A SEPTEMBER LEAF FALLS.
IT BLUSHES CONTRITELY.
I BID IT FAREWELL.
Sunday, 30 September 2007
Friday, 28 September 2007
Thursday, 27 September 2007
Three geese soared high above me, majestic-looking against the cerulean sky. Chicanery in motion, ostentatious cries proclaimed their journey started. Oh bilking beauties…
The leaves keep falling off the near-barren trees, unconcerned that I am not prepared for my migration from sunny street-side cafés to that fauteuil near the fireplace. I am not at peace with bare branches and silver skies and the early dark outside my window. I am not okay with the smell of rotting earth that will soon invade those damp nocturnal walks. I do not look forward to the chill that will claim and form its own government in my bones, eased only by frequent hot steamy baths.
Less and less pedestrians amble through these bustling summer streets and my neighbourhood will soon go to sleep. They also will migrate indoors and their windows will close with a thunk. I will no longer hear what I was never meant to and the pace of my walks will accelerate against the quickening drop in degrees of these autumnal evenings.
My neighbours will set free their flannelette pyjamas and down duvets from their moth-balled plastic storage sleeves. They will equip themselves with a new subscription to TV guide and fresh batteries for their remote controllers. They will line their cupboards with microwave popcorn and extra soda to save them that suddenly undesired trip. Others will embrace their hot cup of jasmine tea and that book that’s been sitting on the landing for weeks, waiting to be remembered.
I suspect I will do some (or all) of these things myself, but only while I mourn the death of yet another prairie summer.
PHOTO: P. Haywood
Tuesday, 25 September 2007
Monday, 24 September 2007
Stating Saddam..Again?
Today was the start of my second year as volunteer tutor/facilitator at a local literacy centre for Adults. I admit that it felt a bit scary to walk in and face a new group of anxious and willing students, each individual always standing out from the others. As adult students they bring with them the stories and experiences which have been their lives for decades, and I commend them for their courage in facing such a challenge.
What I wasn't prepared for today was seeing familiar faces, the returning students. Kudos to them! Their goals are varied, some hoping only to write out a grocery list, others wanting to read bedtime stories to their children, almost all of them hoping for -and in need of- employment at the end of this road.
One man stood out. I hid my surprise (and joy) at seeing "M". I thought I'd never see him again after witnessing his departure from our school in December 2006. Thoughts of him have often since been with me, this man who had been forced to serve in Saddam's army, too young to realize his childhood was gone forever. It took several years to succeed in his escape and find his way across the ocean, where he yearns for his mother's face and voice and love, hoping he will some day be able to return to his home. He yearns, also, for God's forgiveness, the first words written on his list of wishes. He lives a shell-shock existence.
His neighbours don't appreciate the rooster he keeps in his appartment, the one who wakes him for prayer every morning. He needs something to remember home by, his religion, his culture, his essence... And so I smile at knowing M has a rooster for company, although I must admit that I am glad I am not his neighbour.
What M also possesses is a love of words. Poetry, to be specific. It's where he finds his solace. And when his search for words overwhelms him, I show him an itty-bitty picture frame and remind him he need only fill IT up. I've yet to make him understand that it all happens one word at a time...for all of us...but a new school year begins!
For facts on Literacy statistics in Manitoba, go to:
http://www.mb.literacy.ca/mstats.htm
What I wasn't prepared for today was seeing familiar faces, the returning students. Kudos to them! Their goals are varied, some hoping only to write out a grocery list, others wanting to read bedtime stories to their children, almost all of them hoping for -and in need of- employment at the end of this road.
One man stood out. I hid my surprise (and joy) at seeing "M". I thought I'd never see him again after witnessing his departure from our school in December 2006. Thoughts of him have often since been with me, this man who had been forced to serve in Saddam's army, too young to realize his childhood was gone forever. It took several years to succeed in his escape and find his way across the ocean, where he yearns for his mother's face and voice and love, hoping he will some day be able to return to his home. He yearns, also, for God's forgiveness, the first words written on his list of wishes. He lives a shell-shock existence.
His neighbours don't appreciate the rooster he keeps in his appartment, the one who wakes him for prayer every morning. He needs something to remember home by, his religion, his culture, his essence... And so I smile at knowing M has a rooster for company, although I must admit that I am glad I am not his neighbour.
What M also possesses is a love of words. Poetry, to be specific. It's where he finds his solace. And when his search for words overwhelms him, I show him an itty-bitty picture frame and remind him he need only fill IT up. I've yet to make him understand that it all happens one word at a time...for all of us...but a new school year begins!
For facts on Literacy statistics in Manitoba, go to:
http://www.mb.literacy.ca/mstats.htm
Sunday, 23 September 2007
IN THE NAME OF RELIGION
President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was interviewed this week by 60 minute reporter, Scott Pelly. To say that it introduced a deeper decline in objective journalism would be an understatement and it was dissapointing to me to witness this level of subjectivity on the part of 60 minutes, a source I still respected until tonight. Mr. Pelly told the Iranian president that he (Ahmadinejad) owed American president George W. Bush for having killed Saddam Hussein and accused Ahmadinejad of having American blood on his hands for recently helping in the supply of weapons to Iraq.
Mr. Pelly? Are we speaking about the same president? The one who went to war with Iraq over oil and in the process spilled the blood of his own people, young American boys and girls who naively and faithfully fought in the name of 9/11 victims, both countries armed with American weapons?
I do not mean by these words to proclaim Ahmadinejad's innocence, and certainly not Saddam's, but to imply Bush's hands are not bloodied by too many deaths is painfully absurd. My incensement is directed at those trusted at seeking the truth, to report facts and letting the people determine their significance. This reporter was so slanted by his own beliefs as to have the Iranian president ask him if he was an American politician, or a reporter?
"Tell me one thing you admire about president Bush," continued Scott Pelly.
Taken off guard, Ahmadinejad responded with a quizzical look, a pause...
"Don't you admire anything about president Bush?"
I truly felt for the man sitting across from this reporter. Can any intelligent American be so blind to the world's view of his country's crimes?
His hesitation dissipated, Ahmadinejad simply returned the question to the American, asking: "What trait do you admire about your president?"
Pelly: "Well...He's a religious man."
Interview archived at: http://www.cbsnews.com/sections/i_video/main500251.shtml?id=3290029n
New season...novel words
La Charpente represents that which can be built upon. To this I added, then quickly took away, et l'escarpe, an archaic word that translates to the thief in the night, the dangerous stranger, the assassin. I cannot let him in so easily if I am to build upon my skeleton, this charpente of mine. I shall leave the fearful cynic at the door, allowing the idealist to remain unmarked for now.
Bienvenue Marjo : -)
Bienvenue Marjo : -)
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