WHAT’S ON PAGE 25? Chick Lit Author Blog Hop

WHAT IS ON PAGE 25?

This week I am a participant in the Chick Lit Author Blog Hop. You can win 25 free books and a Kindle if you solve the puzzle and find the secret word in each of the participating bloggers’ post of their Page 25. The sentence you find from the words makes sense if you found all secret words in the 25 blogs. The complete list on Julie Valerie’s website will go on line at midnight on Sunday, May 20, to give all participants a fair chance. (I am not able to keep my eyes open that late, so I have published my contribution here today).

Read more about it on Julie Valerie’s blog, follow the link: http://wp.me/p318Hj-lD

Today’s blog post talks about page 25 of my novel-in-stories On Thin Ice. It is also the subject of each participant in the Chick Lit Blog Hop’s novels, so the readers will have an opportunity to explore a number of books in the same genre by simply clicking on the various links provided in this blog post.

PAGE 25

Page 25 is an excerpt of the short story Finding Ecstasy, and takes place near the end of the relationship. The story is a coming-of-age story in which the protagonist, Adrienne, explored her sexuality and experienced ecstasy for the first time in her life at age 23 with handsome and sexy Ethan during the early seventies in Amsterdam. As might be expected, Ethan’s beauty also attracted attention from other women; he could not resist. After the inevitable, heart ripping break-up with Adrienne, Ethan called Adrienne a year later asking to meet. You need to read the whole story to really get a feel for how Adrienne’s love object had changed since they first met. I hope that the page 25 excerpt leaves you wanting to read the rest of the book, a novel in stories that reads like the memoir of a baby boomer from the late sixties into the present. It touches on everything you wondered about that generation and how they grew from protesters and the make-love-no-war generation with society changing powers (acceptance of birth control, of divorce, of other than one-male-one-female families, of recreational drug use) to your grandparents of today.

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They set a date and time on the weekend to meet.

She wondered what this was about. Adrienne hoped deep in her heart that he wanted to come back to her and repair the relationship, but she knew this was not likely. She had been heartbroken, but was pretty much over him now. A memory of past joy remained solidly seated in her heart and stirred within her.

When Ethan arrived, he looked completely different from the young man she had known. He had grown a small, thin moustache. His hair was short and shaved closely at the sides, almost a brush cut. He was very clean cut, quite military looking. His eyes were distant; he fidgeted uncomfortably and his gaze seemed so different from what she remembered—introverted, shifty. His clothes were neat and neutral, fitting a future physician. He did not smile.

Adrienne offered the usual beverages and he chose coffee. While she made it, they engaged in small talk. Ethan was doing well, his internships completed and now he worked in his first residency. He had decided that psychiatry was not for him. His studies and residencies had been a long, difficult haul. He would first start working as a general practitioner for a few years before deciding his specialty. They did not talk about his new relationship.

The small talk ended and he tried to get to the reason for his visit after coffee was served. Adrienne didn’t quite understand the crux of his consternation, but it obviously mattered to him. Now that she saw him in person, she realized that he was not the same man with whom she had first fallen in love. (Win the grand prize! The 22nd secret word in the 25-word sentence is: “you”). Ethan had become what his father expected.

She then realized she had done Ethan’s bidding for him, helping him resist his father’s expectations so he could break away from the tight confines of home. In the meantime, she had kept Ethan from being who he apparently wanted to be, after all. Good lord! How blind had she been? She had been Ethan’s little rebellion.

“I’m sorry about having treated you so badly when we split up,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know how to end it and I didn’t want to get into more fights. I have become aware of my vulnerabilities now, after seeing a therapist for a while. I was confused and wanted to quit my studies, or at least switch. I didn’t feel I was suitable material for a doctor.” He stayed vague about what those vulnerabilities were. “I apologize for having put your things outside, and also for not being at home at the time. It was not nice of me and you did not deserve that, sorry.”

After the conversation, Adrienne and Ethan parted on friendly, and expectedly distant, terms. She pondered the purpose of Ethan’s visit. Did he come to soothe his conscience, relieved to see she had not become depressed, suicidal, or had gone off the deep end, like one of his study buddies? She realized his visit was still all about Ethan’s own struggles in life.

She had noticed that Ethan wasn’t returning any of the precious art etchings or vinyl records she had paid for with her hard-earned money, nor had he brought up the subject. It’s not important anymore. Adrienne was relieved she had survived her first broken heart and had come out the other side a better person.

She had made new friends, was almost graduated from her fine arts program and had landed a fabulous job in a drug treatment centre. She had a good income that allowed her to go on vacations and buy nice shoes. She had a great first floor apartment in a central and lively neighbourhood in Amsterdam. She was a single woman, adventurous, independent, and able to seek out partners for short-term fun, if she felt like it. She enjoyed her life. She vowed not to seek out a committed relationship for the time being.

Now what was a girl to do?

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Keep hopping! Click here to return to the list of blogs: http://wp.me/p318Hj-lD
Julie’s blog

The winners of the What’s On Page 25 contest Raffle Copter will be announced on May 27 at 11:59 pm by Julie Valerie who will hit “random select” and a winner will be selected. Their first and last initial will be automatically posted on the Rafflecopter widget and the name should automatically appear on any of the blogs that showed the widget.
Alternatively, you can go to Julie Valerie’s website or come back here at http://www.babyboomerwrites.wordpress.com. The bloggers-participants will all post a notice as well on their blog, after which we authors each will send out a free book to the winner.

TAKE NOTE: The WHAT’S ON PAGE 25 give away is open to all Canadian and American contestants. Again, Julie’s blog will be life at midnight on Sunday May 20.Julie’s blog

LOOKING FOR TROUBLE

In follow up of the latest destruction of the previous week, I am posting a copy of the Globe and Mail article of today Looking For Trouble by Patrick Martin that I think is very important and says better than I ever could why we need to pay attention to our newcomers, make them feel welcome and wanted in our society especially if we want to avoid second (or first) generation disenfranchised youth within our nation.

Globe and Mail, 2013-04-27, Patrick Martin
LOOKING FOR TROUBLE
A tip from a local imam may have thwarted a major train attack. But if Canada has moved on from security failures of the past, Patrick Martin reports, we’ve also solved only part of the problem. More effective than stopping violence, say community leaders
Two boys are in high school in London, Ont. One attends A.B. Lucas Secondary, the other is across town at London South. Both are Muslims and doing well, and both are athletic – one plays hockey, the other football.

A few years later, both come to public attention.
Nazem Kadri has a breakout season with the Toronto Maple Leafs. He is one of the leading scorers on the National Hockey League team, and finds himself being kissed on national television by Don Cherry after recording his second three-goal game.
Ali Medlej is found dead in North Africa. He and another Canadian appear to have been among 29 members of al-Qaeda of the Maghreb, a deadly terrorist group, who died after attacking an Algerian gas plant. No fewer than 38 of the hostages they had taken perished when Algerian forces moved in to end the attack.
What made Mr. Medlej choose the road that led to Algeria?
“I have no idea,” says Sikander Hashmi, the 30-year-old Canadian-born imam of a mosque in Kingston, Ont. “But it would have come as he was trying to figure out just who he was,” he adds. “So many cases are about identity.”
Mr. Hashmi welcomed the announcement this week that Canadian police and intelligence officers had arrested two young men and broken up an alleged plot to bomb a Via Rail/Amtrak train en route to New York from Toronto.
“At first, I thought, ‘Uh-oh, here we go again,’ ” he says, remembering past accusations of terror. “Then I saw the diverse Muslim leaders who were also at the press conference, and breathed easy. It was very impressive.”
Including community and religious leaders when the RCMP met the media was both novel and substantive.
One imam, reportedly working through a Toronto law firm, is said to have been a source of information that assisted the investigation and led to the charging of two Muslim men.
“It’s a step in the right direction,” Mr. Hashmi says. He is concerned not only with detecting extremists but with an equally grave issue: how to keep Canadian Muslims, or members of any religious, ethnic or political group, from becoming such radicals in the first place.
The Air India failure
The remarkable news conference was a big step forward in winning the trust of Canadian Muslims, many of whom are skeptical of government policy and the security forces’ practices.
It was also the culmination of a journey that began almost 28 years ago – on June 23, 1985, when Air India Flight 182, bound from Montreal for New Delhi, was blown out of the sky over the North Atlantic. A bomb planted in the luggage killed 329 people, most of them Canadian, making it the biggest terror attack in Canadian history.
Ron Atkey was then chairman of the Security Intelligence Review Committee (SIRC), the body appointed by Parliament to oversee the operations of the newly formed Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS), which was responsible for gathering intelligence on threats by and against Canadian security.
“Air India,” he says, “was a complete failure on our part.” CSIS knew from international intelligence that Sikh nationalists were plotting attacks on Indian targets, but could not get inside the large Punjabi community in the lower mainland of British Columbia.
“It was impenetrable,” Mr. Atkey says. As a consequence, the plot to down the Air India flight was never detected. “It was the darkest day in Canadian security history.”
And, from that day, Canadian intelligence, police and political leaders have attempted to grapple with the issue of homegrown terrorism, and the radicalization of Canadians. “Everything that changed in Canadian strategy and tactics, came as a result of that failure,” Mr. Atkey contends.
The developments along the way weren’t always pretty. They included the 2002 case of Maher Arar and his rendition by the United States to Syria, where he was tortured in an attempt to reveal sources and information that might lead Canadian and U.S. officials, both barred from conducting torture themselves, to terrorist plots.
It yielded nothing of the kind; only lawsuits and a black eye for the security service, says Mr. Atkey, who helped with the subsequent inquiry into the Arar debacle.
Also uncovered was the only other case that has resulted in charges: the 2006 plot by the “Toronto 18” to bomb several Canadian institutions, including Parliament, CSIS headquarters and the CBC in Toronto.
Ar first, the plan seemed amateurish to the point of being ridiculous, but in the end proved real enough, and now 11 of the 18 defendants are serving serious jail time.
The means by which the plot was detected and the culprits captured, however, were questionable.
CSIS used two paid informants who participated in planning and preparing for the attacks. One informant purchased the large quantity of fertilizer needed for the bombs, and received a payment of about $4-million from Ottawa.
Such large-scale payouts risk becoming incentives for informants to push some people into planning acts of terrorism. “It’s a big concern,” Mr. Atkey says, “something that SIRC is constantly on the lookout for.”
Further corrections in CSIS’s practices flowed from both the Arar inquiry and the Toronto 18 case, leading to an extensive array of outreach efforts. These included round-table sessions at which members of ethnic and religious groups joined CSIS and police representatives to discuss each other’s concerns, as well as community policing, informal meet-and-greet events.
Under the radar
The many attempts to build trust were effective – but identifying a potential terrorist remains extremely difficult.
For starters, Mr. Hashmi says, Muslims and other hyphenated Canadians often live dual lives. “By day, at school, they are Westerners. In their home and at the mosque, they are Muslim, often changing their clothes to look the part and please their parents.
“It frustrates many young people, especially if they feel alienated because they are Muslim.”
If the goal of Canadian officials is to get the kind of tip that led to this week’s charges, he adds, the goal of Canadian Muslims, Sikhs, Tamils or any other group must be to derail radicalism.
However, a lot of people who turn to jihad are already outside the mainstream religious and community groups. “They fly under the radar,” Mr. Hashmi explains, and are difficult to detect. “That’s the big challenge.”
It’s not likely the police or community leaders who will learn of these people – the discovery has to come from family and friends.
That is why Mr. Hashmi begins meeting with kids in his mosque when they are as young as Grade 4. He fears that global jihad is the most widespread ideology now available, and “young people need to hear alternatives.”
“The problem is that a lot of imams in Canada are uncomfortable using the ‘j-word,’ ” he says. “They are defensive. They worry that security officials will hear that they’re talking about jihad. They avoid it.”
And then there is the role played by technology – the immediacy and intimacy of satellite TV and social media.
Mr. Hashmi also meets regularly with university-age Muslims in Kingston. “I asked them recently where they turn for information on the big questions [such as
jihad and radical Islamic beliefs]. Every one of them said they go to the Internet.”
Even in discussing the subject, he says, community leaders run the risk of losing credibility, of raising suspicions that they don’t really care but are just hoping to file a report to the police. You can’t be both a partner and a suspect.

Which is why Mr. Hashmi considers the Leafs’ Mr. Kadri a godsend. “He is a great role model. He shows that you can be both a Muslim and a real Canadian.”

Experience Required: The Real F-Word

Experience Required: The Real F-Word.

Aftermath and sober thoughts on the mayhem in Boston

On March 17, 1776 the British departed from Boston for Halifax, Nova Scotia, and American forces entered the city. Having been taken after an eleven-month siege, Boston remained in American hands for the remainder of the war. This is a brief excerpt from the website http://www.militaryhistory/about.com/ about the siege of Boston during the American revolution and fight for independence from the British, many years ago.

Last week it seemed like another major military intervention laid the town under a siege, awaiting a resolution. After a week of extreme emotional responses to a disaster in terms of security that happened at the public event of the marathon race in Boston, I am sure everybody has an opinion. I need to say first that I am sorry for all of the relatives of the three deaths and the individuals that got killed, maimed for life, or injured. I am sorry as well for the USA citizens and the nation for being unable to put things in perspective and am concerned for their future.

I personally am weary in the extreme about mass hysteria, and always have been, a reason that I am reluctant to join groups. My basis for this fear is that a ‘group think’ situation might develop that does not allow for dissent. That having a different opinion (mine) would mean being ostracised and possibly even being hurt in some ways.
Speaking up is part of my upbringing in post war Netherlands, where the mass murder of millions of fellow citizens took place exterminated for reasons of race, or disability, or being dark colored foreigners, such as the Roma, without any significant opposition from the majority of citizens. Citizens remained quiet during the war years for fear of being drawn in and themselves be imprisoned, or shot by the occupying German army, or its Dutch collaborators.

Whether rational, or not, I fear knee jerk mass emotional responses, because I feel that most people are pretty much cowards, trying to save themselves and will be hiding within the crowd of public opinion. Mass responses can be very destructive and irrational, such as lynching and stoning that is still going on in the world.

Last year, Americans were dancing in the streets in front of the US White House, after it became known that a crew of paratroopers, or whatever the technical term might be, had illegally entered the air space of an autonomous nation without that nation’s knowledge (not even one secret service staff person knew). The goal was to invade a private home in Pakistan and kill Osama Bin Laden. The commandos indeed killed a few family members and abducted the man who had put himself in the role of the leader of a terrorist organization, Al Qaeda, and then they threw him out of a helicopter into the ocean.

I was taken aback by this unrestrained response of the American public to the news. I wondered whether nobody had any thoughts about how unethical this action had been. It violated all rules of war and of international diplomacy. The dance and jubilation of the people in the street looked like a response of victory, similar to a national team winning the soccer world cup, a comparison that I have seen and can understand, with one difference: no lives were lost, no killings took place at a soccer victory.

Bin Laden could not be brought to justice. No evidence was presented in a court of law, or even in a court-martial (if you consider the terrorist acts to be acts of war), or even before an international court of justice, or tribunal.

No proof was tested in a court of law, no defence lawyer was defending the accused or explaining the acts that supposedly linked Bin Laden directly to the events that changed the US self image forever: the high jacking of planes and the subsequent thousands of deaths resulting from the planes crashing into the Twin Tower buildings.

No views were shown on TV of Osama Bin Laden being tried and put to death, what undoubtedly the verdict from a trial would have been. I thought a video taped speech only is never enough evidence for the claims to be a leader and no evidence of being actually directly connected to an act of terrorism. That’s what makes justice so difficult in these cases of terrorist acts. Does that justify breaking one’s own rules of justice and throw a suspect in the ocean, untried? What about freedom of expression? Was the man not allowed to say what he wanted?
Another point: aren’t the actual perpetrators (if can be proven guilty) not responsible for their own actions, regardless of what a leader tell them to do? Wasn’t that the excuse of every German Nazi: we were just following orders?

The response of public mass emotions last week after the recent Boston Marathon was similarly out of range of rationality, in my view. It seemed more like indicators of a traumatic response to a previous incident after a trigger.
National celebration began when the lone, injured young man was hunted down in a spectacular military-style operation worthy of capturing an Al Capone-like gang. He was caught, like a hunted down, injured fox, trapped in a hole. His brother was already killed. An army against two dangerous criminals after a siege.
They are suspected to be the perpetrators of the bombs placed and detonated at the finish line that killed three and injured many at the Boston marathon. I hope that at least one of the accused can stand trial and given his life story, for us all to be educated how this came about.

Since the bombs went off and caused the public mayhem, talks on TV went on for every minute of the day, because nobody claimed responsibility and little was known about the reasons for it.
It seemed to me as if the nation was re-traumatized and their fears reactivated, to an irrational and very high level.

These types of attacks were, and still are, almost routinely taking place in other nations where there is political and/or religious strive, to name a few: Afghanistan, Palestine, Israel, India, Somalia, Syria, Chechnya, and so on. Those places are far away from the US and at a safe distance, or so you might think. European courts and the UN security council has dealt with atrocities for decades, trying to solve the political aspects and improve global cooperation to stop the worst perpetrators. It seems that the public in the US was (and maybe still is) not very aware of what goes on globally, until the 9-11 attacks on the Twin Towers centre.

So far, the USA government has been taking the prerogative to act with impunity as they see fit, like as a rogue state itself without UN backing for its military actions, punishing people that are perceived to have done the USA an injustice, with the population behind it; few objections are heard among politicians, for fear of being called unamerican.

Catching a suspect of such a public assault as the bombings last week was cheered on and celebrated publicly. One would have to wonder if this was overkill, in light of the as of yet unproven facts. After the arrest, if one can call it that, the youngest of the two young citizens that are alleged perpetrators was barely alive, critically wounded.
I suspect that these two young men were probably trying to do their own thing to get to heaven, alienated from their society and their peer group, in search of meaning in their lives, like so many young men who are the first or second generation offspring of newcomers to the nation.

How can this nation get their own responses under control, back to more normal levels? What is the self reflection about their culture and life styles, if there even is any reflection? What could lead to young people that grow up in their midst to become so alienated? How are newcomers treated? Is there much discrimination? These are the questions that should be asked next and answers that are not glib or superficial be sought out.

This is not the first incident of domestic unrest born out of religious zealotry or perceived victimization by individuals in acts against the state or ruling class. The massacre at Waco, Texas under leadership of David Koresh of the religious sect Branch Divinians in 1993 left 54 adults and 28 children dead after the troops were done and the ensuing fire was out. Timothy McVeigh, a veteran in the US Persian war sought revenge on the government in April 1995 for their action against Koresh’ group and was the sole perpetrator of the Oklahoma City bombing, with 168 deaths and 800 injured.

In Canada, Sikh terrorists were responsible for the downing of a plane with all occupants dead in the ocean off Lockebie, to attract attention for the fight for an independent Sikh nation in India, a very familiar history of imported political strive that came to our doorstep. Our nation’s response was that, although the culprits were known, they were let go, as the justice system could not get a conviction; the proof was not there and the case took too long to go to trial.
We did not send a commando to India, where some of the accused took refuge, to kill the alleged offenders. That would be wrong and probably cause a tremendous political rift with that autonomous nation.
Since then, the Canadian police, the secret service and the successive governments have learned their lesson: improved surveillance of political and religious zealots takes place and action if needed with arrests. Social engineering also helped, such as assistance to newcomers to establish, to adjust their expectations to the Canadian reality and requirements of our culture, and help them settling in, so important, because we desperately need newcomers to keep our sparsely populated nation functioning.

International strive has also entered the US, not surprisingly, as the world is getting very small, relatively speaking. As well, US soldiers have been involved with conflicts all over the world. I say, welcome to the reality of being global citizens. We all will have to come to the point that we have to take our blinkers off and see the world and our political allies as they are. For example, the US government and Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of Osama Bin Laden, have a strong connection that cost the US dearly. We have to take responsibility for our own actions and judge others with the same measuring stick as we judge ourselves with, as nations, as well as private citizens. We can do that by casting our votes intelligently for our governments and for the leaders and by demanding that our governments act ethically as well, nationally and internationally.

As an example of the old thinking in the US as I observed it, I am going to give a scenario.
What would people think if let’s say, just for the sake or argument, a Canadian secret mission went up to Alaska and kidnapped what’s her name, the woman Tina Fey did a better impersonation of than the woman herself, not to kill her, but to bring her before a tribunal. Or when she was vacationing in the Bahamas and we took her from there.

We Canadians would like to see Sarah Palin submit her evidence for having her racist and fear mongering ideas that she has been spouting, putting our nation at risk, making it more unsafe for our citizens, simply by the fact of living next door to us. We want to see her in a court of law defending herself for charges of hate mongering. We think she is a dangerous leader who perpetuates hate and instigates people to act against the government and against those minorities and non-Caucasians, wanting to take away their rights as citizens, or deny them the right to settle after years of living and working in the US. Maybe, she and her supporters might cause terrorist attacks. We don’t really know, do we?

The Canadian government could justify this action, in an attempt to prevent the deaths and the oppressive life people of non-Caucasian background in the future, if her government would get into power. We cannot trust our USA neighbours to take care of preventing that.
We want to protect our life style of tolerance and unarmed citizens, for registered gun possession for hunters only, of equality for all and equal access to the benefits of our country including health care, abortion and protection under the law, be they new immigrants or not. Canada does not let new residents wait for years: after 3 years of living responsibly one is eligible to apply for citizenship.

In analogy with US interventions abroad, Canadian commandos kidnapping people with extremist ideas on our borders, such as the Alaska ex-senator, would not be that far-fetched, considering the woman was/is popular and was a VP candidate at some point, and had a real chance of becoming a president’s right hand woman. If she would come into power, would that not be the will of the population? We will say to that: Never mind, we know better than the Americans and we could justify taking her out and imprison her, preventative, because we can see what her reign will lead to. Their own government is too weak to prevent her rising to power. We do it for their own good! Too many Americans still adore her and hold the same extremist views.

Now I am going a step further with this scenario.

Combining the threat of reactionary and racist politics that seems very prevalent in the US, the statistics on gun ownership are even more threatening: the fact that 330 million guns are dispersed throughout that country, next door to us: it scares the hell out of us.
And on top of that, many, if not most of those gun owners, are unchecked, might even carry concealed weapons, and own more than one gun, including possibly automatic weapons and military style weapons.
Those guns might be in the hands of crooks and extremists, and racists, and mentally unstable people. Many of the guns are being smuggled to our country together with drugs to be exchanged for our BC pot.

Don’t you think we Canadians should be fearful of our American neighbours?
And yet, we do not have that fear and we do still kindly look upon the American visitors coming to our country. Aren’t we simple and naive?

This simple Canadian would like to call the events at the Boston marathon a domestic problem. After Americans individually and communally have settled down I think they should deal with their past traumas as soon as possible, as a nation and as individuals, before it all escalates from a domestic problem to terrorist hysteria again.

For the Obama administration I have some suggestions as well: I hope that they can clean up the domestic mess. The leaders need to stop catering to the national need for adrenaline through trumped up military actions and political rhetoric on how they are going to root out attacks on their culture. Their political alliances should be questioned and maybe changed, internationally. Some introspection is warranted; changes in their culture would not be a bad idea, in my opinion….

I would love to hear your reactions and ideas. All comments welcome. I would love it if you would rate this article at the top.

Battle for Acceptance – Jan Wong’s OUT OF THE BLUE –

Review of OUT OF THE BLUE, by Jan Wong

The subtitle is: A Memoir of Workplace Depression, Recovery, Redemption and Yes, Happiness

http://www.amazon.com/Out-Blue-Workplace-Depression-Redemption/dp/0987868500/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366475873&sr=8-1&keywords=jan+wong%2C+Out+of+the+blue

As a person with first hand experience with a bout of mental illness last year, I was curious about journalist Jan Wong’s autobiographical book about her experiences. Mental illness is a rather common prevalence: 1 in 5 people will have it. Jan Wong’s battle with depression was extended and aggravated by her employer’s denial of short-term illness benefits, as the people in charge did not think she was legitimately ill and believed that Jan was not unable to do her job as a journalist, in spite of doctor’s assessments.

Jan first went off work ill after a complete mental breakdown in 2006, when she was completely exhausted and obsessed with work. She had been receiving an endless stream of hate mail addressed to her and her family after her article about the shooting in Montreal at Dawson College was published in the newspaper The Globe and Mail. She had been assigned the job on the day of the shooting and went there immediately. She had a special connection, as her sister worked there, only not that day.

A 25-year old man had shot 20 people on the Dawson campus. The shooter was of East-Indian descent, a college drop out, living in his parents’ basement.
In 1989 Marc Lepine (born as Gamil Gharbi, son of parents from Algeria) in a shooting spree at the Concordia University’s Ecole Politechnique in Montreal killed similar devastating numbers of people on campus, in that case all were women.
Because there had been a third shooting in Montreal by a Russian, Valery Fabrikant, Jan Wong had concluded in her article that an issue of racial discrimination in Quebec society might be the cause of such unrestrained retaliation attacks by individuals who felt alienated from the Quebec society at large.

She mentioned the PQ’s leader Jacque Pariseau’s remark after the referendum about separation of the province of Quebec from Canada was defeated: …that Quebec almost was a country, if it hadn’t been for the ethnic vote (meaning anybody who is not born francophone) and the money (referring to the Jewish business world)…, in summary, anybody who is not “pure laine”, (a French indication for 100 % wool, a label sewn in sweaters), in Quebec used as slang for generations of francophone Quebecois.

She researched the suicide rate in the nation and found that Quebec had the highest rate. Jan’s conclusion was that the discrimination and alienation of many members in Quebec society might have generated this vengeful action by the second-generation sons of immigrants, unhappy and likely mentally ill young people who are failing in their own lives and falling between the cracks of existing support systems.

Jan’s article was badly received by the public in Quebec, as well as by the national political leaders in the country. She had used the term “pure laine” in her article to indicate the racial undertones in Quebec society. A motion was past in the (national) parliament that the newspaper and Jan Wong must apologize to the people of Quebec for her offensive remarks.
Her employer, The Globe and Mail, did not back her up and left her hanging, advised her to keep her head down, and not to talk about it, and put an convoluted apology in the paper. Jan complied with the gag order to the best of her abilities and refused all interviews. Then a website appeared, discrediting her family and calling attention to, and discrediting Chinese food, questioning what sort of animals were routinely eaten by Chinese people.

It was Jan’s first personal experience with racism; her family of Chinese descent had lived for a century in Quebec. The francophone newspaper Le Quebecois published a call for a boycott of her father’s restaurants. When Jan received a package at work with her two published books, cut in pieces, with a letter with a death threat and the ominous words: I know where you live, she ran home and had a complete emotional breakdown. That was the start of it all.

The employer’s insurer, Manulife, denied Jan her short-term illness claim. Jan being whom she is, a fighter and whistleblower, did not give up the fight to get acknowledgement for her illness and the payment of her benefits that were due. Jan had completed the appropriate medical exams and had received the recommendation from her doctor that she was ill and could not work.

A long battle ensued described in the book, with many grievances filed, arbitration, medical reports not accepted or not forwarded to the people who should have it, and union lawyers involved with mediation meetings. During her illness, her trips out of the country away from the situation to visit with friends and relatives, approved and recommended by her doctors as therapeutic, were not approved by the union and the employer–reason for another grievance and mediation.

After six months of illness, she went back to work, still believing she would be OK at work and that she should not really be ill and off work. She had not accepted her own illness yet. When she started to receive another stream of hate mail at her work address including a death threat, she had a relapse of crying and irrational responses and went off again. Somebody impersonating Jan had started a website with nonsense on it generating the second bout of hate mail.

This so far is only about the battle with her employer and the insurance company. Jan Wong’s book also described in detail how her functioning was impaired, and her ideas about what caused the illness. It took a long time before she herself accepted that she, as a very strong person–seemingly invincible–could become this weak and collapse. Completely.
Jan’s long road to recovery was at times agonizing to read. You want her to accept and be quiet at times, just to focus on getting well, but Jan would not become herself again by giving in and keeling over, although suicidal ideation was her companion for a time.

When Jan Wong was ordered by her employer to return to work after a trip to France, and she did not do so, she was fired, after having worked for 21 years at the newspaper. Her doctors (GP and psychiatrist) did not assess her healthy and would not sign her off for return for work. Even the independent medical examiner assigned by her employer would not declare her healthy. Jan and her legal advisor from the union filed a law suit for wrongful dismissal.

photos from the CBC website

In the meantime, Jan tried to write and publish her book about China that she had taken time off from work for at the start of her illness. She was at times rather functional and never lost her will to fight—-a reason why it was for others hard to see that she was still ill. She and her editor took years to complete re-writes to finish the book. Jan at first refused medication, until she could not deny any more that she would not recover without treatments, medical as well as psychiatric.

The whole “affair Wong” revealed the facts of current workplace treatment of the ill. Jan Wong exposed the way her workplace and its insurance company treated a mentally ill person: bulling her back to work and denying sickness benefits. Just because one is not visibly ill, does not mean that person is able to work.
Depression is a devastating illness, not in the least for the person herself. It is a fallacy to think a strong person cannot get mental illness. A strong person generally takes on more and is given more difficult assignments than an employee with less stamina, but even the strongest person has a breaking point. A mental illness changes an individual forever, even after recovery. Jan points out that, “Once you’ve lost your mind, you never feel secure again.”

I bought the book for my Kindle when I was off work with a mental illness, induced by work circumstances and aggravated by lack of support for the initial diagnosis, similar to Jan’s situation. When I told my therapist about having bought the book, she advised me to wait with reading it, until I was fully recovered myself, as its contents might not be helpful at this time for me.
Indeed, now a year after my own recovery reading the book, I admit it was good to take that distance, so I could observe the process Jan went through more objectively and would not be triggered into my own vulnerabilities.
I would agree with Jan Wong that the modern workplace is ill suited to recognize, respect, and allow recovery of employees’ mental illness while working. I would say that high stress work environments in a substantial way can contribute to a break down, such as Jan’s assignments in war zones and the campus shooting on as a journalist. Especially when an employer is not having your back, mental illness can escalate and cause the continuation of the illness.

I found the novel well written; it illustrates Jan’s desperation during her illness, and also her affected–but still strong–spirit. She is a whistle blower and a courageous one, taking on the national newspaper, and Manulife. Regardless of where one stands on the politics of Quebec, I would like to say Thank You to Jan for her book.

Book Reviews

Book Review

Please, rate this essay with stars above.

In the book publishing world book reviews seem to have taken an inordinate position in the self-publishers’ arsenal of market strategies. How else is anyone going to decide to buy this book or that one. The idea is to create a buzz in the reader’s world for one’s book so readers get curious and want to read it.

Without a publishing machine behind me as a self-published author, that is easier said than done. I have been at it now for about a year, steadily working at it. One of the ways to get noticed is to write reviews, to visit other people’s blog, to participate in blog hops, etc. One would need almost unlimited time to produce an effect from those strategies. My question is: what is the purpose purpose of the individual author?

The idea to meet with instant success after having thrown your novel out there, into the mass of launched books on line, is the same as thinking you will win the Lotto Max 30 million, although I haven’t worked out the exact odds. I leave it to the number geeks to find that out.
Just to mention the current cliché for success: everyone wished they had been the author of the poorly written book with-an-edge Fifty Shades of Grey. I concluded that as I noticed all the copycat books flooding the market.

Did I really wish I had written that trilogy? On the one hand, yes, as that author is now rich and can write whatever she likes; she doesn’t have to fight for a place under the sun in book-world any more, and financially she sits on roses, not on something hard and unpredictable.

On the other side of things, E.L. James’ writing skills are debatable and already widely discussed elsewhere. Lets’ just say she tried to project the voice of her protagonist, the gullible Anastasia, who, in spite of having acquired a college degree recently, seems to have a limited vocabulary, does not possess a great deal of social and emotional intelligence and is quite immature, in spite of her age. Her character reads more like a 16-year old teenager than a twenty-something young woman. In my view, Anastasia is a troubled young lady, at least in the first book of the trilogy. I couldn’t get myself to read the other two volumes.

Within the context of writing and its purpose: balancing the quality of the writing versus the quantity of sales of a published work, the question is not that easy for me to answer. I want to be an accomplished author, known for being good at my craft. I also would not mind at all becoming rich and famous, so I could write all day, if I want to, and have the financial freedom to travel and live in warm climates and beautiful surroundings. Would I want to achieve that by writing anything that I ethically could not justify for my own peace of mind?

E. L. James wrote 3 books of soft sado-masochistic fare that sort of justifies the powerful and rich lover-boy using women as lust objects through their degradation. I have been told that Anastasia finally conquers the man at the end of part 3 and that he leaves his S&M needs behind, is cured, and loves her in a less demeaning way.

That ending is a fallacy and not realistic, as sexual arousal patterns do not change very much, once solidly ingrained in one’s brain in young adulthood. After that our sexual arousal patterns are pretty much hard wired in, hence we have to deal in society with (incurable) paedophiles and the next step: rapists. I see that untrue ending in E.L.James’ work as distorting the reality and romanticizing an abusive relationship.

Abusive relationships between couples and the murder rate of women are already serious problems of ethical, social and criminal significance for our current society. Highly publicized reports of teen suicides after having been exposed in sexually demeaning situations on the web do not shock us that much any more.

What is the message to our readers if we present the practices of SM books to young women as OK and the message is absorbed that we, women, can change that man? Do they get it that it’s just fantasy? Is that the price of freedom of expression?

The currency now to acquire a boyfriend, or to get attention from a male seems to be offering sex. I am not against sex and sexual freedom and have had my share of it. I am concerned about current youth being less equal, gender being the determinant of one’s role: victimizer or victim.

One could argue that the author’s job is to record and broadcast what is going on in the world and the author is only the messenger, and not to shoot the messenger. Although that is very true, any book in my view also has to be truthful in its depiction of human conditions and human psychology. Fantasy is great, but even fantasy and romance novels are known for being fantasy—a world that is not real.

E.L. James messed up the boundaries between those territories in my view, as well as what happened in so many other depictions of female degradation in music videos and U-tube clips, going around on line. The myth that mainly adult housewives are reading the millions of copies sold of 50 Shades, thereby reviving their marriages, and not young adolescents, is most likely just that: a myth, even if Dr. Oz says so in his TV show. Is this the next blueprint for young woman of today?
I am worried for our young women, but also for the young men who think demanding or taking power over women through sex would be OK, even if substance use leading up to a rape often is the excuse for both genders’ behaviours.

My novel ON THIN ICE deals with relationships and the struggle of women to be in an equal relationship with their partner. It talks about a personal struggle, but also of a societal one, and possibly very much a generational one. In North American diverse societies I have found that people keep many secrets that remain between couples; privacy is very highly valued, more so than in the northern European societies, especially my home country of the Netherlands. The stories in On Thin Ice throw open the door to that inner, private world and expose the protagonist’s battle–and that of her friends–on how to be a woman in a relationship with a man, with all it problems. Nothing is shoved under the carpet.

I welcome and really appreciate any comments about this subject and your views. Anything you recognize? Or any comments about the reviews?
Would you like to receive a free E copy of ON THIN ICE in exchange for a your review afterwards?

For more reviews see:
http://www.readersfavorite.com/book-review/8674

Review of LUIS ALBERTO URREA’s: HUMMINGBIRD’S DAUGHTER

 

Review of THE HUMMINGBIRD’S DAUGHTER by Luis Alberto Urrea.

 

This novel was recommended to me by a ferocious reader of Canadian Indigenous heritage. She knows that I am very interested in indigenous cultures and history and that I love Mexico, so this book was a shoo-in for being appreciated.

 

And she was right, I thoroughly enjoyed reading the 500 page novel brimming with Mexican history. The story starts in 1898 and tells the development of a young girl,  Teresita, during the first 20 years of her life: a girl born to a Indio farm girl but fathered by the master of the hacienda, the wealthy rancher Don Tomas Urrea, who reluctantly accepts her parentage. Tomas is a real Don Juan and has many affairs and some extra children, his latest mistress one young and beautiful, but loving Gabriela, the reason his wife finally sets him straight when he starts living openly with Gaby on the country hacienda, after which the demanding wife is banned by Tomas from the ranch, to live on their property in the city with their young children.

 

Teresita is destined to follow in the footsteps of the local healer, the sage Huila, who is an elder in the community and also functions as the midwife for the village and surroundings in the state of Sinaloa. Huila rescued Teresita from her abusive aunt, where she landed after her very young mother was sent away.

 

Early in the story the main characters are moving away to another of Tomas’  properties, in Cabora, after word has been received that the Urrea hacienda in the country is demolished by raiding bands: some sort of massacre  occurred. The company arrives after a long and arduous trek through the desert, and then rebuild the house and other needed housing for staff and the stables, with the help of a number of local Indio labourors and vaqueros (cowboys) hired by Tomas to do the work.

In the meantime, Tomas, without fear and with great curiosity, is seeking out the bands that razed his property and killed three of his staff. He finds the indigenous Yaqui band and after hearing the reason for their action against the Urrea ranch, makes peace with the Yaquis. They were upset with the diminishing lands they can call theirs and were very hungry while such riches were right around the corner, destined for an absent owner. Tomas and the Yaquis form a pact of peaceful coexistence, with mutual favours when called for.

 

Over a period of roughly twenty years Teresita grows from a half-wild rejected child into the revered spiritual and physical healer and leader of the People called La Santa de Cabora.

Admired and loved by the believers, she is hated by the government and its deputies, and feared for her influence. She is then targeted as the cause of the insurrection of the Indiginous tribes of the area and persecuted by the Rurales (federal Mexican police/army), and ultimately, expelled from Mexico as a suspected revolutionary instigator of uprisings by the indigenous populations. The army stops short of executing her, for fear that she will turn into a martyr, with even more power from beyond the grave.

 

This story is taking place in a historical context of the brutal regime of General Porfirio Diaz towards the end of the 19th century when the revolution is brewing and the Indigenous Mexicans (defined as those who have not mixed with the descendants of the Spanish colonizers and who still maintained their own indigenous languages and culrural practices). The Indigenous tribes had started to fight for their beliefs and for keeping possession of their lands.

The book ends when Teresita is expelled to Arizona together with her father Don Tomas Urrea, in a scene describing the last stand-off between Yaquis and Mayos against the army, just short of the Arizona border at a time where the Mexican revolution is already in progress. This history of Mexico that the author Urrea spent two years researching, is embedded in a riveting tale of the Saint of Cabora, as the indigenous Mexicans, the People, still called her. The author, born from a Mexican parent and an American parent was under the impression that Teresita was a relative and in that spirit started his research.

 

Much of the Mexican culture is described, as well as many Native rituals and beliefs, that provides a fascinating look at Mexico as it still exists. The Mexican culture is a mixed culture, with the strongest influences from the old Indigenous spiritual beliefs, then the Roman Catholic doctrines and beliefs, and also with some minor influences of old Spanish-European culture, although other than in its language and the imported RC religion, that influence is not so obvious in everyday life, in my view. Most  people are obviously of Indigenous mixed heritage.

 

As a traveller to Mexico I am staying away as far as I can from the gringo resorts, preferring to live in the heart of a small town among the Mexican locals.I recognized many of the mannerisms of the Mexicans and the regional foods, corn being one of the most important. The book transported me to my favourite places in Jalisco and I wished I could linger there forever.

 

You might think that this was historic and now the indigenous peoples are safer.  Sure, it appeared to be the practice in the past in newly occupied territories to remove the local Indians, or more appropriately called Indigenous populations, from their lands, with tricks or with violence. The purpose of businesses and governments working together was to make money, or as they say “develop the country”. You’d think that this can’t be any more the case in this day and age. If you thought that, you’d be wrong.

 

A few weeks back I saw the documentary Heart of Sky, Heart of Earth by Frauke Sandig and Erik Black at the Okanagan College, filmed in the independent state of Chiapas, a territory in the south of Mexico, where we know from the media that  the so-called “rebels” were keeping the Mexican government on its toes.

That seems to me a miscasting of the situation. From the documentary that breaks one’s heart, we see that, yes, the speakers are local, Indigenous people. Although cast by the Mexican government as rebels, they really are victims, objecting to being thrown off their lands, and to having their homes and lands  polluted by mines.

 

To clear the areas for the mines, huge landmasses were bulldozed and the remaining landscape is now bare, vulnerable to erosion, where once special stands of sacred trees stood and pre-Columbian, ancient Maya buildings had been preserved in the jungle, until that day the machines came.

For those who drink coffee: Chiapas is also the area of the coffee culture, its coffee is dark and its taste lush, like the jungle it grows in). Whenever I get the chance, I buy it. The coffee culture might very well be in danger too.

 

The results of this literal  upheaval of the earth and the local environment are that its residents are getting ill, the water is polluted, the crops affected, and they do not know why their lives and their peaceful way of living deserves so little respect from their government.

Chiapas has one of the largest indigenous populations of Mexico, with twelve recognized ethnicities, what we in Canada would call First Nations. In 1994 a Zapatista uprising took place that succeeded to get more rights for the indigenous population.

 

The documentary reminded me of Canadian film maker James Cameron’s  award winning movie Avatar made in 2009  that grossed him 2-plus billion in revenues. His material and the idea for the movie seem to have been copied from what is actually happening in the Chiapas and Guatemala  jungles. It so happened that when I was travelling to Guadalajara I first saw Avatar in Spanish on the bus’ TV–apparently a bootlegged version, as the movie was still running at that time in the theatres in 2010.

 

After having seen the documentary–curious–I checked the Internet and to my surprise, found an article that stated the Mexican government had last year made an announcement that the moratorium on mine development in the Chiapas area is ending. It appears that Canada is one of the largest gold producers involved in Mexico, if not the largest, and I am ashamed by my nation’s ruthless push for economic exploitation while disregarding Indigenous people’s rights and ruining sensitive environments.

  

 

The following are excerpts from a post by Herman Bellinghausen from the blog about mining, http://www.chiapassolidarity.wordpress.com/2012/07/08 originally in Spanish, translated into English by the international Chiapas Zappatista  translation service.

 

The “Mining Truce” in Chiapas is at the Point of Ending.

Chiapas, July 5, 2012

 

Everything indicates that the truce granted by the out-going Chiapas government for mining exploitation is about to end. In this state the federal government has delivered 97 concessions to a group of transnationals, the majority of them Canadian, for periods of up to 50 years, frequently bypassing environmental standards.

This will occur with the Titan of the Andes Mine, in the coastal municipality of Acacoyagua.

 

According to a source consulted, who asked for anonymity, “to authorize work of that magnitude in the Sierra Madre of Chiapas, one of the states with the country’s greatest biodiversity, is a flagrant violation of nature and of all the conservation treaties about biodiversity signed by Mexico.”

 

…….work of this magnitude would impact directly on the mangrove ecosystems in La Encrucijada Biosphere Reserve………

 

….”.Two mines are already operating, “while others are still in the exploration or construction stages”. They are looking for gold and silver, but also extract barite, titanium, magnetite and copper. It is important to remember that extraction was suspended following the 2009 murder of Mariano Abarca, opponent of mining in Chicomuselo and a member of Rema.

 

One of the principal companies is Blackfire Exploration Ltd, with headquarters in Alberta, Canada, whose slogan is “Aggressively Exploring and Developing Chiapas.” It has acquired 27,412 hectares through subsidiaries or intermediaries. It has opened a barite mine in Chicomuselo and this year plans to open two more in the Sierra. In its turn, Linear Gold Corp shows it has exploration rights on 198,416 hectares and operates a gold mine through two intermediaries in Ixuatán, in the northern part of the state. Among its other projects is a gold mine in Motozintla.

 

…..there are four other companies that, although they have not yet started operations, have concessions for exploration and in certain cases exploitation in 31 municipalities, the majority in the Sierra.

 

They are the Canadian companies Radius Gold Corp (103,210 hectares), Fronteer Development Group (208,392), New Gold Inc (246,249) and the Chilean copper company Codelco (12,831), which in 2009 “was the mining company that registered the greatest increase in the production of copper,” according to the Mining Directory of Chile.

 

Of the 97 total concessions, 37 expire in 2050, and four more in 2054 in Escuintla, Pijijiapan and Solusuchiapa, “where the majority of mining concessions are until 2057”.

 

17 permits expire in 2056 in Amatenango del Valle, Coapilla, Copainalá, Motozintla, Pichucalco, Rayón, Siltepec, Tapachula and Villa Comaltitlán. Of them, nine belong to Linear Gold with a total of 120,744 hectares.

 

The permits for 11 mines would terminate in 2057, after 50 years in Ocozocoautla, Chicomuselo, Angel Albino Corzo, Venustiano Carranza, Villa Flores, Motozintla, Escuintla and Mazapa de Madero.

 

For its part, the Canadian Radius Gold/Geo-metals of the North is the owner of 103,210 hectares, with six projects in Ocozocoautla, Chicomuselo, Angel Albino Corzo, Venustiano Carranza and Villa Flores.

(Originally published in Spanish by La Jornada, July 6, 2012…..

 

So far the quote from the blog.

 

When all this work is completed, by 2057, when I will be passed on, and my daughter might be a grandmother at age 72, I am pretty sure that no more Mayas will be living in their home territory in Chiapas, and that the number of “rebels” will have increased.

If the indigenous peoples of Chiapas have not been part of the plan and were not offered relocation to similar territory, with a fair change to maintain their way of living as they please, this might just be the point where another civil war is brewing, purely out of self defence. What else could locals do?

It seems that history in Mexico might repeat itself, no thanks to the Canadian businesses and the international mining industry.

 

My question is: did you ever stop to think where your gold product is from, that beautiful gold ring, those great ear rings?

 

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IS ABSTINENCE OVERRATED?

During the last 40 days, the Christian world was preoccupied with abstinence, as that is what gives meaning to the observance of lent: the practice of abstaining from indulgence (fasting), doing penance for past mistakes, and praying for improvement while remembering that Jesus, the son of God, was killed on Good Friday as a sacrifice for the people. Easter is celebrated as the day Jesus was resurrected from the dead, or so the Christians believe. Not that I do accept that practice, but I think it is nevertheless a good point in the year for reflection: spring. How are you going to conduct yourself in this new year with new life beginning everywhere?

This is a story about abstinence posted on Easter Sunday, the day of the ending of abstinence. The reader can take anything or nothing from it, as you please. Please, rate this story in the top and I would greatly appreciate any comments you might leave on the bottom of the story.

ABSTINENCE

Slogging together knee deep through the greasy mud of the Wadden Sea between the islands and the mainland of Groningen in an attempt to try to beat the turning tide during a four hour window: that’s how it started with Aaron. This hike was without question a challenging physical endeavour on a holiday weekend for our group of addicts in recovery and their counsellors—all city people. Let’s face it: that would have been hard work for anybody.
I was not particularly athletic, although I developed muscles in my legs from years of peddling my bike 30 clicks to high school every day, not by free will, but on account of my parents’ parsimonious refusal to let me travel by public transit. “It’s healthy for you, take the bike”. My parents did not believe in spoiling the child, although they spared the rod.
Both in our early thirties and unhitched, Aaron and I hit it off. He was funny and generous, friendly and sweet. He seemed to care about others. He was also good-looking, tall and well built, although with a bit of extras around the waist. No problem, he just needed to move a bit more, I thought. I would take care of that. Aaron had successfully graduated from the treatment centre some time before I had started working there.
We made it in time, although we felt the undertow pull at our calves: nothing like the fear of drowning in the strong North Sea currents to keep one moving. Tired and dirty we cleaned ourselves up at the inn’s outdoor taps at our end destination. We had a bite to eat before returning home. The weekend had been a success. Aaron and I started dating.

In the experimental treatment centre in Amsterdam all preconceived notions about addiction treatment had been thrown out the window. When the sixties wave of drug use led to admitting a different type of patient, the medical model and the “twelve steps” based practices ended. Every new theory was open for testing. Patients were now called residents and their pyjamas only used at night: nobody was permitted to go to bed during the day. Residents were actively running the house together with staff for the duration of their nine months’ stay. Every newcomer was put on a methadone or another medication program and was clean and sober within two weeks after arrival, without exception.

I had not known Aaron as a resident. “You know, he is one of those rare birds that can drink socially after treatment and keep a handle on it,” his former therapist said.
Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic, meaning that complete abstinence is the only true path: Aaron might just have proven that old paradigm of addiction wrong.

I liked Aaron a lot and admired his sense of fun. His small home was a true testament of his passion for a long bygone era: the sturdy replica-imperial furniture around his place and his heavy oak poster bed fitted well with Aaron’s physical appearance and his old fashioned ideas. Aaron was getting along great with my other friends. Just like them, he drank a beer or two.

We planned a vacation. Aaron had not been out of the country in a long time and was excited. We picked Portugal where I had visited once before and I knew just the place to go: the Algarve on its south coast with its wild, untamed beaches and beautiful sheer rock formations rising straight up from the golden sand. My friends lent us a tent and air mattresses.
Faro was a short flight from Amsterdam and we arrived midday, found a campground, on the outskirts of town, and after eating a thin, greasy steak with French fries at a local café down the street, settled in for the night.
The next day we continued on to Lagos, our end destination. We packed up our few belongings and caught a bus. By the end of the day we had found a great spot on a campsite overlooking the Atlantic Ocean just outside of Lagos.
The eucalyptus trees wafted their medicinal scent across the landscape and the setting sun felt still warm on our bare arms and legs. The place looked exotic, with palm trees growing along the edges of the paths. Many colourful shrubs of Oleanders and Hibiscus seemed to have sprouted from the hard and yellow-orange soil like weeds without a plan.

We needed something to eat and had noticed the restaurant, just off the campground along the road back to town. Yes, they offered the fare I loved, although Aaron was less happy with the octopus and calamari and such on the menu and he chose a plate of French fries and beefsteak, and a beer, just like last night.
“I am disappointed with the beef. It’s too thin and is overcooked,” he complained.
“Yes, to our northern standards, I have to admit it is, I replied and added “Only slowly braised meat is really good in Portugal, in my experience. If you expect steak like back home, you can’t get that here. They cook everything in olive oil. The seafood is just excellent. That’s the specialty so close to the ocean; this is fishermen’s country. Try the freshly grilled sardines next time.”

We calculated that, to catch our flight back in time in six days, we needed to leave at the latest in three days from this spot. Not much time to waste, so we’d better enjoy the beach while we could, so we took off to the beach. The ocean and the beach were as expected glorious and we spent our day relaxing, talking, some necking, and had a seafood lunch at a beach shack.

The evening was mild and still warm. We lolled around outside the tent on the air mattresses converted to easy chairs, feeling rejuvenated, our skin all rosy looking having absorbed the sun. I was happily reading a book. Aaron seemed restless. He was not much of a talker.
“Aaron, are you bored? You seem restless. Didn’t you bring a book?”
“No, I am not much of a reader. Do you I feel like going to the bowling alley? I saw one attached to a bar further down the road.”
“Sure, if you like.” Although I was not a great bowler and was perfectly happy relaxing and reading, I went along. I knew very little then about what really motivated Aaron.

We got to the place, ordered a drink, and then we started a game. The place was not that busy and the local bar tender was visibly bored. After our game was finished, he joined us at our table and we made friendly small talk. His English—our common language–was half-decent; he was putting in a good effort entertaining us. More drinks were ordered. Aaron was drinking more than his usual two. I was beginning to worry.

Aaron wasn’t his usual self since we had left Amsterdam. He was quiet and seemed to be out of his element. At first I chalked it up to his admitted fear of flying; once landed he should have recovered his equilibrium, I told myself, but he hadn’t. He did not show any indication of wanting sex; my seduction attempts fell flat. “I’m just tired,” he said. I decided I would give him some time to get acclimatized.

I realized I didn’t really know him. I wondered whether it had been too early in our relationship to go on a vacation together. I always thought travelling together a good way of getting to know each other, but maybe I was wrong this time. Aaron was so different than before–now that we were alone together. He had nothing to say, had no conversation.
We seemed to have nothing in common. My attempts to have a conversation felt desperate, so I keep silence after a few attempts.

When the bartender started to talk to us, Aaron’s face lit up, like a baby who sees his mother arrive at his crib in the morning. Aaron was smiling and suddenly animated again, like the Aaron I knew before this trip. This chameleon-like change confused me.
It felt like we had said everything we wanted to say to each other and now he had found the new territory he was looking for. I knew I was not the jealous type; I just didn’t understand.
I observed the dynamics between those two men who seemed to become instant friends.
Aaron sought this man’s company—no, his approval—even more so than anything I could say or do. Men’s company; buddies. Yes, he was seeking a buddy. But did he have to do that with so many drinks? He was getting wasted.

“Hey, Aaron, what do you say, shall we call it a night? I think we should go back to the camp ground now.”
“Hey, why? We are having fun. The night is still young.”
“We could come back again tomorrow. We have a few days left, don’t we? I really want to go now. Are you coming?”
“Aw, chucks, well, if you have to go, I will go with you. Well, see you maybe again tomorrow?” This last remark was directed to the barkeeper, whose name turned out to be Julio.
Julio obviously liked our company and replied: “Sure, if you come tomorrow again, I will take you to a party somewhere else after closing time, if you like…”
“Oh, yes, that’s great, we will go, won’t we?” Now Aaron looked at me. I had my doubts and was reluctant to commit.
“Maybe, we will see how things roll during the day.” And to Julio: “Nice meeting you. Have a good night then, bye.”

I wanted to get out of the place; the way this whole trip rolled had all my systems on alert. I didn’t want to start a fight, but I would like Aaron to stop drinking. He had pretty much been drinking all day: at lunch, at dinner and at the bowling. I lost count, but knew it was way more than his usual, especially at the bowling alley, and way more than me.
I considered my conundrum: was I responsible for him, or not? Well, good question. I didn’t want to be. We were dating, and I wasn’t his therapist. Maybe I should try opening up this conversation, as a good girlfriend would.

After arrival at our camp site, Aaron was staying outside the tent. I came back out and sat down next to him.
“Aaron, are you okay? What is happening?”
“ Oh, don’t know, nothing. I just wanted to stay at the bar and you are forcing me to leave.” He sounded like a petulant child.
“Well, you don’t have to leave if you want to stay, you know. You are a grown man and can do whatever you like.”
“Yes, I am and I can. Why did you want to leave, was it not great for you?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, you are getting pissed, that’s why I wanted to leave. I have never seen you drink that much. This seems a problem to me. I know I am not your therapist, but I don’t want a drunk for a boyfriend either. Why do you drink so much?”
“I am? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, come on, Aaron. Usually you have two beers, that’s it. Have you kept count today?”
“No, but you apparently have. Get off my back, will you? I am on vacation.”
“Jeez, Aaron, thanks for that. Why should I even worry, right?”
“Yes, why would you?”
“ Well, I care for you and if you keep drinking I will not be here with you for long. Just so you know. I know I am not your therapist, but let me be the one that said it first: I think you have relapsed into addiction and can’t stop. You seem to spot the bar before anything else and have been drinking without fail every day.”
“Damn you, I so can stop and I will show you. I’m going to sleep now, goodnight.” With that he got up and put his tall body inside the pup tent with arms poking wildly into its navvy nylon sides, before he finally lay down, with much sighing and muttering under his breath.

I stayed outside and stared at the sky without seeing. When I heard snoring coming from the tent, I quietly slipped inside too and lay down on top of my air mattress and sleeping bag. It simply was too hot to cover up. My thoughts milled about like a school of small fry darting this way and that, unpredictable and in a frantic tempo.
Was I wrong to bring Aaron to this foreign country? Was I too bossy? Were we even compatible? It was beginning to dawn on me that Aaron is definitively not “cured”. The experiment is finished: proof is abundant that to tame the dragon of alcoholism, abstinence is required.
Did I want to invest any energy in a relationship with an addict? I knew the answer: definitely not. How much of me was an addiction worker, how much of me was a disappointed woman and which one will prevail? Maybe I was too pessimistic and our little talk might have smartened him up. After what seemed hours I finally must have fallen asleep.

The next morning the sun’s brightness hurt our eyes when we crawled out of the tent with an hour between us.
“Good morning, Aaron. How are you feeling? If you’re up to it, I would like to do some shopping in town today. What do you say?” I ask.
Aaron didn’t want to look me in the eye and mumbled without much enthusiasm: “Fine.”
“You don’t have you, if you don’t want to. What would you want to do today?”
“Nothing. That’s fine.”
“I would be okay going by myself, no pressure. If you like, you could stay here, or go to the beach to swim, or whatever.” Aaron was a strong swimmer and I admired his lack of fear for the strong, Atlantic surf.
“ No I will come with you.”

After our brunch, we spent the afternoon roaming around the fresh food market. I admired the variety of fish and sea creatures that were on sale: everything edible the ocean beholds was offered here: marlin, swordfish, tuna, shark, and conger eel, as well as many kinds of muscles and crustaceans displayed in large heaps on ice. Piles of fresh fruit and vegetables attractively displayed beckoned the local shoppers.
The trip to town was a welcome distraction. Aaron seemed to have perked up a bit and was more talkative than at any time since we had landed. I felt a ray of hope glow into my heart.
“Where are we going to eat today? Let’s eat in town, there are some nice places here,” Aaron said. “If we want to go out with Julio after closing time, we have plenty of time to have dinner.”
“Good idea.”

By ten that night we headed back to Julio’s bar. He was entertaining a few late guests. By eleven the place was empty. “Time to close,” he said and started cleaning up. It didn’t take him long. We all got into his compact and drove off into the dark. It took at least 40 minutes before he stopped at another beach with a lone restaurant right on its edge. The patio overlooked the ocean. A glorious spot, we agreed.
There was a bit of a party going on inside with about eight people still there. Julio introduced us; we got a lukewarm reception. Aaron enthusiastically sat down beside Julio in a booth and they started drinking from the bottle Julio brought–serious drinking. I wanted to scream and rip the bottle away and throw it in the ocean, but I didn’t.

I sat on the other side of Julio and just watched what was happening. Aaron and Julio and the others across the table were engaged in banter back and forth about football, talk steeped in competition back and forth—Portugal against the Netherlands. This went on for a while and I saw Aaron get drunk, really drunk.
I had a couple of glasses of wine, but refused the hard liquor. My heart was dark and I didn’t care any more. I was just waiting for the end. Then, without warning, I felt a hand on my thigh. I looked up: Julio was looking at me and softly asked: “Would you like to go for a walk on the beach?”
I hesitated and looked at Aaron. He was in conversation with the Portuguese guys spicing his slurred English with Dutch words.
“Okay, it’s a nice night, sure, let’s go for a walk,” I said.

Julio took my hand and we walked out onto the beach via the patio. It was indeed a glorious night. I felt faint and weird. The only light was coming from the restaurant; the rest of the world was hidden in the dark. I could see an irregular ribbon of light moving along the beach. It retreated and then returned—it was the surf and sounded lovely, calming, and almost serene. We silently walked hand in hand and I liked it.

At a fair distance away from the light, Julio stopped walking, put his hands on my shoulders and turned me towards him; he started kissing me. I kissed back. I raised my arms to embrace him, desire washing over me. His hands started roving and I wanted it, I needed it, I took it and I gave back. This embrace felt delicious, unexpected and illicit, unconscionable even. I completely surrendered and we lay down together on the soft sand—still warm from the day’s sunshine. We made love. I forgot where I was.

Suddenly I heard a slurred voice say, “So tha’sss where you guyssss went.”
I looked sideways and first saw Aaron’s legs and feet planted in the soft sand a few feet away, and then his body, swaying lightly. I couldn’t see the expression on his face, as it was really dark that night on the beach and I did not want to see it.
“Yes, go back to the house, we will join you in a minute, “ I called out, jolted back to reality.
Aaron turned his back and slowly, with apparent difficulty, he walked away from us into the direction of the lights. I wondered what he saw and what he comprehended from what he had seen. I told Julio “We have to go.”

Julio got up and stretched out his hand to pull me up to standing. We both straightened out our clothes without speaking, then started the walk back to the house, hand in hand.

Aaron was sitting in his booth in the bar; all others except the barkeeper had left.
“I will take you both back to your camp ground,” Julio said to Aaron, as if nothing had happened.
“Thank you,” I say. Aaron mumbled something.
The trip to the camp site took place in silence, Aaron in the passenger seat up front, I in the back seat. I noticed that Aaron was slumping and had passed out.

The next morning I packed my things and read my book while waiting till Aaron would come back to the living. When he finally crawled out of the tent close to noon, he saw me with my backpack sitting next to me, ready to leave.
“Are you leaving?” he asked obtusely.
“Yes. I don’t think we have a future together. I am sorry I left with Julio last night; I shouldn’t have done that. I will leave you the tent and will take a hotel myself. Don’t forget to leave in time to catch the return flight from Faro. See you back in Faro. ”

I made my way to Faro by bus and got a hotel. I spent the rest of my vacation in the city. The flight to Amsterdam would leave at 9:00 a.m. On arriving I looked around the airport for Aaron and again at the gate, but he did not show.

A week later I got a call from Aaron: he wanted to drop off the tent. “Yes, please,” I said and we set up a time. He looked dishevelled when I opened the door.
“I started drinking the morning you left me and I missed my flight. I was allowed to take that return flight without paying for it again, but only if I waited another week. Because I had run out of money I camped all that time by the airport and ate bread for a week. I am sick of bread.” He smiled sheepishly.
I couldn’t look him in the eye when I said: “I am sorry that happened to you. I did not mean for this to happen. It was bad of me to leave you behind like that and also going off with Julio.”
“That’s OK, I am not angry at you. Why did you leave anyway?”
“I was angry that you started drinking full-out, especially after I told you I thought you relapsed into addiction. I couldn’t pass up a chance to have some fun for myself, so I went off with Julio. I guess you never really stopped drinking at all after treatment, did you?”
“No, but I thought I could manage social drinking.”
“Thanks for getting the tent back.”
What more was there to say? We said our goodbyes.

Abstinence according to the dictionary means “the act or practice of refraining from indulging an appetite or desire, especially for alcoholic drink or sexual intercourse”. We had the intention to abstain, but discovered when we least expected it that we could not. Aaron and I both failed miserably at the art of abstinence.

MARRIAGE–Differences between Quebec and British Columbia

The differences between British Columbia and Quebec

 

Two Standard Happy Couples

A few posts back I wrote about Quebec couples who are not obliged to share in their wealth, if a couple was not married and they break up. Only official marriage guaranteed that both spouses have the  usual property rights, such as property sharing (50-50) and spousal support if reasonable. Of course a different arrangement between partners is still an option, but no sharing of accumulated property and no spousal support payment are enforceable after the partners in these de facto unions break up. Going to court will make no difference, even if 35% of Quebecois live in such de facto unions. I questioned this arrangement and called it discriminative.

 

Now the province of British Columbia has declared the rather opposite stance of marriage, compared to Quebec. The law has been changed, so that a couple living together for two years will be considered as married. There will be no differences between the two forms of unions when it comes to property. It needed no referendum apparently,  and we as voters were not told by any political party that it had campaigned on that platform. It was just done.

 

I feel a bit taken aback by that on first reaction. Marriage always was a hot potato in many societies. It was the cause of the Anglican church coming into existence when British king Henry VIII wanted a new wife and the pope would not annul his previous marriage. Wars were started over it and peace pacts sealed with a marriage. People killed others for it. Popes thought it second best and preferred all priest be not in any relationship, not even married. The marriage: overall a situation worth debating.

 

Photographer
Ferli Achirulli
From Indonesia

I never wanted to be married, as I always found it an institution that did not serve women very well, looking around me while growing up and later, when entering the years of the sexual revolution during the sixties and seventies (previous century).

Over the years, the property laws and divorce options, as well as social acceptance of divorce became more women-friendly and thus the option of leaving a loveless or abusive marriage was created. Still, marriage was not really my “thing”, although I was married once when I came to Canada. It lasted pretty much 17 years-enough to raise a child; our daughter was 16 when it all fell apart.

 

A whole lot of duties and assumptions of each partner’s roles are implied when people get married. Yes, they set out to make it last forever and grow old together, assuming eternal love. More commonly, the women still do most of the household tasks, raising the children, and work a job out of the home as well. That attitude seems to fortunately be changing with the last generation and I see many young men become more actively involved with their families, in Canada at least.

 

In more than half of the marriages this expectation of togetherness “till death do us part” is false and people divorce or just separate, if they were not married.

I personally see no difference between the couples who needed the official certificate stating they are legally married and those whose words say they are committed to each other. I would not need that expensive party, the diamond ring or the other trappings of a wedding that are so coveted by many who still believe in the form.

The only difference that I noticed was in how people responded to me after I was married. Somehow I was made legitimate and joined their crowd, although I never ever felt myself that I had joined any particular crowd.

“Like seeks like”. Now I was welcome in groups of married people. That stopped after I divorced; the married couples stopped (for most part) inviting me to their events.

I saw that in Canada, but not so much in the Netherlands, where among my friends singles and couples freely mixed, including gay unions or singles, including drug using or alcohol using friends.  It might be a cultural thing. The two nations are separated by a traditional-conservative belief system.

 

People love and fall out of love. For some couples, children are the glue that binds them together. That is a laudable commitment and I am all for it. Children need to be raised and, in these times, two incomes are better than one and yes, raising kids is expensive.

 

There are also many who do not see it that way and feel that when the sexual attraction is gone, it’s time to move on. They have serial relationships or marriages. In those cases, child support payments after divorce is a good thing and should be maintained. 

 

In BC from now on it will now not matter whether you were married or not when you leave your partner: you will have to share your accumulated property. As well, if your house that you owned before marriage or the start of living together increased in value, you will have to share that increase in value with the partner when you are leaving him/her after a minimum of two years living together.

I think that is a fair law and it equalizes the relationships between men and women, in a time  where most men earn more than most women, generally speaking. In my view money and assets between them should be shared to raise their offspring. “The interest of the child” has become the only consideration: the New Family Law as it is called stipulates this principle.

 

On the other hand, this new law might cause those naive people to wake up and smell the coffee that think they are loved for their beautiful mind or body and start living together without any thoughts about who they are and especially, what their material assets are.

 

To all men I would say: be aware, there’s no more moving in without considering the consequences, and no more creating children and hoping to walk away relatively unscathed.

Of course, there are loopholes, but that will take money and a legal process to be set aside, with good reasons, in specific cases. It’s like negative billing: you get charged, but need to be assertive to opt out.

 

In my cynical view, I see another reason why our government has come to develop this law: many children are raised in poverty. I believe it is said to be a third of all children in BC. That is enough of a reason for me to do something about this shameful statistic.

 

To our provincial government I say Good For You: our children’s welfare should be the first consideration.

 

What do you think about this law?

Do you think that couples see their commitment represented though marriage only?

 

What about sharing financial burdens for children between parents?

THE REAL DANGER OF NORTH AMERICA’S WEST COAST

The real danger to North America’s west coast.

http://ts3.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4643264280922078&pid=1.7&w=191&h=137&c=7&rs=1

We hear a lot about the Keystone XL pipe line project through the sensitive North American areas and the issue of oil tankers potentially polluting the coast of British Columbia in an accident and damaging its pristine northern Pacific Ocean environment, with its rich biosphere.

In the meantime, from the US Oregon coast via Tofino on Vancouver Island to the Haida Gwaii islands, the coast from Prince Rupert to the uppermost tip of the islands at Masset, pretty much the whole west coast to the north, possibly including the Alaskan coast, is currently being polluted by plastics.
We know that plastics release estrogen-mimicking hormones into the environment. If you like to know more about the various chemicals released by plastics, click here.(http://www.environmentalhealthnews.org/ehs/news/dangers-of-plastic)

This process happens directly by the deteriorating plastic releasing its chemicals into the ocean water, as well as indirectly by the sea creatures swallowing the plastic pieces, thinking it is food. Then that chemical mix is transferred to humans at the top of the food chain eating the seafood, and depending on how much seafood one eats, humans will be poisoned, silently and secretly.

Vast quantities of plastic and other debris, estimated at five million tons of it, are washing up. This debris arrives currently all the way from Japan 5000 miles away, where two years ago a tsunami swept whole towns into the ocean. It is estimated that 70% of the debris has sunk to the bottom of the ocean already. The illustration below is from the National Post that indicates the progression of the debris field and its size.

The debris contains among other things many plastic articles of all kinds, from lawn chairs to plastic floats used in the farming of fish, barrels, twenty-liter containers, bottles and all types of other plastic products. A spectacular find in May last year was widely publicized in the media when a steel box container still had a Harley Davidson motorbike in it with a Japanese license plate, washed up on the shore of Naikoon Provincial Park on Graham Island on BC’s coast.

http://ts1.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4702783925650072&pid=1.7&w=193&h=138&c=7&rs=1

The Fifth Estate with Mark Kelly has produced a documentary titled Second Wave about this problem that is underestimated in its effects on our environment and kept quiet by the mainstream media. Why is this not a sexy news item? Maybe the photos explain it.

http://ts1.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4980676891117688&pid=1.7&w=204&h=142&c=7&rs=1

The documentary shows the influence of plastic in the debris. Plastic is notoriously slow to deteriorate, some say it will take centuries, and so it stays in the environment for a long, long time–many human generations long. Sharks and other teethed creatures play with and bite at the objects until these objects are damaged and easily break off into smaller pieces.
Until that time of complete deterioration, sea creatures will be eating plastic, generation after generation, mistaking those bits floating in front of their noses for food, gobbling up and gobbling up some more, until they die from an inability to digest this plastic mass in their stomachs.
The photo below is published by the US Navy.

Fish caught with this in their stomachs are processed for human food consumption anyway. As consumers we do not know how much oestrogen-like substance has been absorbed by the fish in its yummy salmon steak or lox before it got caught. We do not question when it arrives on our table.

That fish’s reproductive cycle is most likely also disturbed by the chemicals released in its body. Male reproduction is negatively affected by oestrogens; that is valid for humans and possibly also for animals. We might be anticipating a future crash in fish populations, as well as in human populations that eat a fair quantity of seafood. How much seafood is safe? Not a particularly sexy or welcome subject to write about in the media.

http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR3VxEkT1AQxA1vdcw2P6q7n-bhWz1TGWtrNwSYphr0RI2hohHV

There is not much we can do. Nobody is to blame, as a tsunami is a natural disaster, not a man-made disaster in the case of a pipe line break or a oil tanker shipwreck.We felt sorry for the Japanese affected by this disaster. We donated to the relief efforts. The newsworthy quality has passed. We don’t want to hear about it anymore.

The media was full of photos and stories then. However, two years later, the effects are not a news item. The public’s attention is short-lived. As well, if we cannot blame anybody, the news reporters and their editors are not that quick to get involved, is my thesis. It is much sexier to vilify a political leader or a whole party, or even a whole nation, or a culture that has a different take on what religion or societal structure they want to maintain.
An illustration of this is what happened recently in the media in India, where suddenly a whole nation becomes aware of how they treat their female population after one young girl was gang raped on a public transportation bus and died. This sparked large demonstrations in the streets to protest the injustices women experience by being assaulted and raped with impunity as a common occurrence.

Without being able to point the finger at anybody or any group in particular, a news item like this debris pollution on our west coast just becomes a depressing item. Who really wants to know about another disaster that is localized, has no solution, and does not affect the reader? Or so they think.

In this case the British Columbia provincial government and possibly also the state of Alaska become the aggrieved parties who will have to deal with, and clean up the millions of tons of debris that washes up daily now. It will costs many billions to clean up that waste.
Although I am not advocating oil exploration, or for oil tankers to move through ecological sensitive areas, an oil spill will be a lesser mishap in comparison. Surface oil can be seen and can be quite effectively cleaned up, as the worst oil spill disaster of 2010 demonstrated, when a BP owned Deepwater Horizon drilling rig exploded and released an estimated 5 billion barrels of oil over 3 months into the Gulf of Mexico. BP is an huge multinational corporation and was able to pay the costs for clean-up.
In the case of the tsunami debris field the national governments must be part of the solution, including the Japanese government, as the burden is too much to bear by a local government. In my view Japan has some moral responsibility to chip in for the clean-up, even if the earthquake and the resulting tsunami was a natural disaster.

Not only that which is visible, what about the 70% of tsunami debris that lies on the ocean floor somewhere between Japan and the west coast of North America? Whose responsibility is that? Is the international community prepared to address a problem that nobody can see and its effects that are not immediately noticeable? Who will pay, who will collect the global community’s tax payable for clean-up and who will organize this impossibly difficult endeavor?

Many will say that the ocean can absorb any pollution. It absorbs the pollution of ships dumping their waste and used oil–already a long standing well-known practice. A bit of debris is nothing and the oceans can handle that. Yes, dumping waste is illegal, but unenforceable. Or is it?

We overfish the waters already; our fish stocks are continuously studied by Fish and Wildlife Department officials and guesses made as to how much we can catch safely without driving certain fish populations into extinction. At this moment, the Japanese are engaged in the controversial acts of killing whales for food, populations that are elsewhere a protected species. Do we really need to be that reckless as a species driving other species into extinction?
Should we not as nations get on the same environmental page and have an international agreement about when and where to harvest other species and enforce the agreements or laws with an army of seaworthy ships that can arrest and bring to trial those that breaks the laws, similar to the Somalia situation?

The route along the Somalia coast is patrolled by war ships of the international community to prevent the Somali pirates from hijacking the oil tankers passing by their coast. The international community is protecting the unencumbered trade in oil and the delivery of the product to its end destination. The international community can band together to protect and enforce protection of its business profit schemes and maintain the international waters for trade. If so inclined, it also could give the same priority to environmental pirates that still dump oil and waste in the ocean and might very well do serious, irreversible damage to our food sources in the long run.
At this time I don’t think that this abuse and criminal neglect of our environment on the oceans is an item that is being addressed. Indeed, the ocean can take some abuse and absorb some pollution. My question is, how much abuse? How can we get back to address this accidental pollution and its clean-up and deal with this issue effectively?

How much unchecked and unknown food contamination are you, as a British Columbian or Alaska resident, willing to take?
I also have a warning for other nations: it could happen to your world as well and how would you feel then?

My suggestion? I would really soon check the research on the effects of plastic in your body and make a decision whether to continue eating the lovely fresh seafood from our coast. Knowing now about the effects of the tsunami, I am looking at local seafood with different eyes.

In the next elections, I will be voting for those politicians that see the environment and us–the people living in it–as strongly connected and interdependent. I will vote for candidates who see the environment as the source of our food, vote for that candidate who equally protects the food safety, as well as jobs and economic and social benefits. The ocean and its creatures are essential to our lives and worth of our attention and protection.

What do you think about this debris field issue?
Do you think it is a national or a global issue?
Any thoughts at all or any comments you have, I would really appreciate.