Movin' On Back

 While I hear constantly, "move on", "look to the future", "don't dwell on the past", I am taking a complete turn and am looking back. Today I began my first food dehydrating attempt. I am not good with food additives, thus packaged foods that are laden with preservatives and other chemicals to heighten the colour and flavours are not my friends. I can't use the famous soups that come in little parcels or the noodles that form student fare. There is something put in most of them called MSG. It makes me very ill.  But all that aside, I love to have a cup of soup, just one nice warm mug of it as my comfort food. I've tried cooking up a big pot and freezing it in smaller portions but somehow it isn't as easy. I like something faster than thawing and heating. I want to scoop out a couple of spoonsful and mixing in some boiling water and partaking with a smile. More than that since I have taken up drying green onion that makes my home smell like a garden, I am moving on back. Most of us who live in Canada, cannot boast growing out of its soil. We came here and settled here and yes, developed it but not always favorably. My opinion. Those who had been here for thousands of years before us ARE the land. We forgot to learn from these, our elders. How these ancient cultures existed without electricity or big box stores with all of their conveniences, living within Nature as part of it, intrigues me. They survived the icy winters and times of non-growth, of sparsity and enduring the forces all around them in complete bravery and harmony is to me, a miracle. The people then, grew from the very soil and waters and air. When we go into the woods and forests and mountains we take along all of our gear and batteries and should be filled with admiration for those who had none of these but lived every day of their lives in the wilds. They learned, out of need and created ways to live with their surroundings unlike those of us now, who have no idea how we could do that, if we had to. The old ways are forgotten in favour of cell phones and computers and governments in far away places that we pay money to, to take care of us and tell us how to live. Back then, the people of the land, were their own government and formed their laws and practices from their environment and lived by their findings, because if they didn't, they could not survive. They needed each other, the protection and guidance of their own people. The elders were given honour and were listened to. These days, elders are tolerated and pampered, but when their stories are told, few want to listen. We do not learn but continue to make the same mistakes over and over again. To me, food supplies of the ancient peoples and how they preserved and stored it, is very interesting. They dried much of their summer foods and stored them in places that allowed for preservation. They knew the herbs for flavouring and the ones that were medicine. When I smell the vegetables and fish, drying in my dehydrator, even though it runs by electricity rather than the sun this winter, I respect and admire those who came long before, those who ARE this land. 

Blame Game

Blame is rampant. In a news report today, a family member is looking to sue law enforcement for not being successful in stopping the crime which resulted in the death of the young relative. A saddened family member sees the death caused solely by the individual himself, as the Law's fault for not anticipating it. Clearly to most of us, the criminal caused his own death. All too often we read or hear or see in the news daily, some one or group blamed for what one has done to itself. The individual may have made a very bad choice. It seems that few of the offended look in the proverbial mirror and ask the crucial question: who really did this? The answer is "you did it yourself because you made a bad choice". You were the one who chose to do it. No one else. In the day, if you did something wrong,  you knew it was your fault and you owned up to it. That was the requirement in good homes. If you did the deed, you confessed honestly and were honored for doing so. You took your punishment "like a Man". Not now. The first step is usually looking around for whom to blame. It happens in families and other social groups who seem unable to face the truths of their own actions.  The new criminals facing court, look about for who or what caused them to commit crimes.  Often individuals plead a medical condition, a dysfunctional family, a bad crowd. Perhaps criminals should take out insurance against the results of their committing crimes? Small children on playgrounds say things such as, "he started it so it's his fault". Or, "she made me do it, so it's not my fault". Adults can't use these sorts of excuses. Fault often begins when someone, usually the victim, makes a bad decision. The outcome may not have been what the person intended, but the result is damage done. Threats to sue those who are said to cause misdemeanors are usually groundless. Suing is costly and time-consuming and is seldom successful.  Suing doesn't solve a problem. It pays for a portion of it, but doesn't always end the root cause that prevents it from happening again. We hear about the big money in sue trails but  never about the ones that result in nothing at all. So what is the solution? Fixing a situation is not about pointing fingers, but in finding ways to allow the matter never to happen again. It starts with individuals making sure that choices are okay and will not result in harming oneself or others and that are not criminal. And if caught, admitting that the blame lies with the oneself, the one who made the choice. If the choice was unduly influenced so that the victim was no able to make it, then there is cause for investigation, but most of the time, the blame lies with those who chose to participate on their own volition. Hindsight is not as clear as one might think. Choice is very broad in these liberal times and before making questionable choices, much needs doing. Researching, referring to prime sources and finding  all possible resources, is best before choosing. What looks too good, generally is. What's exciting bears consideration. What tempts can corrupt. What flatters may cost. What asks might demand. And when the end turns out badly, asking "who made the choice?".  There is only one answer.

For The Birds

 On my daily coffee deck session this late January morning, before I slid the door open, I could hear a concert happening. The sky was a perfect blue, the cedar sentinels were festooned with sapphire glints through their long fronds and the air was crisp. A tiny bird, unlike the usual larger seaside kinds, was pealing his little set of hearts out in long, trilling bursts of song. It is unusual to hear such music in my city by the sea with its cars, skate boards, yipping dogs and yakkers passing by on the sidewalks between condo buildings. But here was a pair of small songsters unaware of these human distractions doing what Spring birds do and have always done. I rushed inside to get my opera glasses, yes, bird lovers, some of us use any kind of device we can get our hands on. The big binocs on the book shelf, were too far away at the moment and furthermore I wasn't interested in counting how many feathers covered birdie ears and other statistics. I simply wanted to see who this very welcome singer was that graced our little town at this hour of the day. The bird, about the size of a house sparrow and could have been  a Chipping Sparrow since it had a very rusty red head and a gray breast, but then, I am no expert and depend mostly on my Peterson Field Guide with its wonderful collection of bird drawings and notations. I went later to check to see who this delightful creature was and where he may have hailed from. There was, in the cedars, a pair of these little feathered friends and they seemed to be full of joy according to the length and complexity of their musical presentations. Since we also have Sparrow Hawks, crows and eagles plus other larger predator birds here, I hoped these two might find a suitably safe place to nest if that were their intention. Most of all, I just wanted to sit, sip and listen. I have to admit when the little concert with its small singing star was beginning to lag, I tried to do some imitation tweets, the real kind, to encourage more song from them and it worked for awhile. Watching with my glasses, the little fellow bobbing its head as it sang, I knew that it would be off to feed soon and if I were lucky, perhaps I might see him either tonight or  tomorrow morning. Or he and his little companion may merely be passing through, as happens anywhere on the Pacific Coast. When the two finally flitted off, I began to think how little in this age of technical overkill, that most of us listen when we are outside. Not only are we inflicted by myriads of various sounds: construction, traffic and loud human blasts that disallow the sounds of nature, but we persist in sticking little wires in our ears so that we don't miss the beat of what we call music or business into every step we happen to take beyond the home or office. Who do you see on the street who dares to take all the electronic junk off their heads and hands, and actually listens to anything but what shallowly they think "really matters"? What really matters isn't being constantly bombarded with words and numbers but sometimes, what old Mother Nature is trying to tell us. Once in awhile, we should listen to Her.  I heard what She said this morning and it was more perfect than anything made by Man.

Forever Green

 Well, maybe not forever, but for a long enough time, green onions stay green.  I keep a mug full of green onions standing in cold water changed daily, right beside my kitchen tap. The greenness freshens up my space with a smell that reminds me of being on a farm and the colour makes me feel that I am looking out on a garden even though I am not.  Green onions are ignored by many ignorant of their value, people mostly because they think their breath will smell like onion. What? Who said onions were an ugly smell? I always thought they smelled pretty sexy on someone else. They must have good taste in what they eat just as garlic lovers do. Did you know that onions are an antioxidant and provide you with untold benefits for your general health. Look it up on line or in your other references. I love green onions because, to me, a sprinkle of fresh green onion in soups, on vegetables and meats or fish, adds life to it. The taste is not overwhelming as much as its bigger cousins, but they, like salt, add that certain element to make everything seem gourmet.  Their green freshens everything up as well. Buying a couple of packs of green onion every week, is also a very wise buy for what all the food value you get for so little.  Chefs have been known to keep, in their cuisines, a glass of green onion that grows daily while stowed in their fresh water homes. You can almost watch your green onions grow. Overnight you will find they have stretched up and up and put out  nice new stalks all pointy and inviting. I keep my bouquet of green onion handy and when I am about to eat scrambled egg in the morning, I cut off a sprinkling of them to add, not only vitamins, but also colour. And then there is the spicy taste unlike any other. Onions have vitamins galore that help our bodies and who would know? They are humble and secretive.  Add a bit on your sandwiches and just about everything else you eat and you will find them delightful. For lunch today I feasted on whole grain open faced bread, my own of course, topped with a generous smear of cream cheese and the ever present green onion over top with n added dollop of my favorite sweet hot chili sauce. Oh yum. A cheese sandwich is much tastier when you lay a couple of green onions on top. It gives the snack a twist and zip. I highly recommend adding green onion to your home's ambience also. The fragrance is marvellous and broad.  When I come into my door, yes, there is a waft of garden as witnessed by green onion that is undeniably fresh, not something sweet, floral and dead, but green and fresh. If you prefer rose garden to green onion, you are on the "other" side. I used to be an avid gardener who loved to grow my own veggies but now I do it on my sun deck and guess which veg to grow, is the most popular one? You've got it: green onion. Well, then again, I love to watch the lettuce spring up, too.

PR

 P and R. There is a difference between politics and religion. A religion is something people make a decision to practise. Their lives are directed by their chosen religion and they find comfort in the friends they have and the dedication they set their lives to in the company of such persons. They hope to see their closest others also decide to take up what they love and what has become parts of their very lives. Politics are what also we do in the company of others but they are done to determine our leaders that we can trust in to make decisions that effect and affect the outcomes of our broader society. While religion is a serious enough commitment with principles one uses to set a pattern in how we live our lives, politics is  a tool in keeping a social economic order in our lives. The latter presents order that is flexible from time to time according to how our political structure is formed. We can change it according to how it works, if it works. Religion is deeper. It sets a pattern for our personal lives and it, too, while a choice  can be  adjusted or changed according to our needs. It doesn't or shouldn't cause emotional or physical harm and should never cause harm to others. It has nothing much to do with economic matters. Religion is something on top of the skin but shouldn't go so skin-deep so that reason and truth don't become confused. Its leaders are there to suggest, not to dictate. There is a difference between a religion and a cult that is more dictatorial.  Religion is a kind of uniform we don that can be changed as we see fit. Never, should it become the skin of our being itself. If that happens, we are in a dangerous situation because the leaders of it could step over their boundaries and  become dictators in our lives and not just advisors. We would lose our human freedoms to make decisions to live our own ways. Spiritual leaders can be strong in their guidance but are not there to punish. That's not their work. Politicians have even less power even though they are part of a body that makes punishing laws but those are only laws that are approved by electors who put the politicians there. Most politicians enter their field out of a belief they intend to do the will of those they have been elected by. They shouldn't, though often they eventually fall into the trap of believing they can rise above their mandates, begin to carry out the law themselves. Fortunately, elections are spaced to avoid this human weakness that can occur sometimes among those who hold  influence but go too far beyond their  legal powers. While religion has no true legal power, it does have a powerful influence by those who enlist in its structures. Political power is legal and thus safeguards are placed to prevent politicians from overstepping their roles, ones that may affect those who elected them. They have a time line to follow and many laws to hold them in check. Their decisions do directly influence how we live since the economics in our systems determine many aspects of our everyday lives. This influence is why we have to take our votes to elect political leaders very seriously and make sure that we vote with deep thought about which direction we want our very lives to go. We need vision of a kind so that we and our predecessors will be kind and safe and well guided. How we vote matters, and matters crucially. To not vote is to not care about the future of our world, the one and only place that we are responsible for. 

Super Parents Super Kids

 A few decades ago when I became a grandparent, I was able, through neighborhood invitations to attend the birthday parties of little kids. I would see what changes in parenting had evolved over the past decade or so. My own grand kids were beyond typical birthday parties. I found myself sitting in birthday living rooms with other grandparents. In those days, unlike today, when child rearing is co-parent, mothers used to take the kids to the birthday parties. They weren't the major entertainment venues, as now, with professional staffs in large child party facilities. Parties for kids,  were held in homes not local restaurants with play rooms or at swimming pools or skating rinks. The children were on the floor in someone's living room with mothers setting up educational toys on the carpet, while cooing and mewling encouragement over the fun of it all. As one of the old ladies observing on couches about the space, we of the Dr. Spock era, were silent but mostly because of shock. Was this supposed to be fun? The so-called toys were devices that were designed to increase certain skills progressively  in children. If this were done, apparently, the kids would excel toward genius standing in school. With three decades of teaching  behind me, including multiple courses in child psychology, I observed that few of the little ones were laughing or smiling as they played the games. As it turned out much later,  none of them became geniuses and most ended up as pleasant ordinary people doing ordinary jobs. Old age does offer perspective. But here we elders were, watching. The mothers down on the carpets were trying hard to disguise their competitiveness. And the children as all kids do, knew it and very wisely tried desperately to meet the parental expectations as the little ones stacked and sorted and shifted the plastics. I was hoping someone would toss in an old carboard carton, germ-free of course, and maybe a large paper bag or two and if not in use, a few kitchen gadgets that made noises. How much fun would they all have with an old blanket or a tablecloth, perhaps a wooden spoon to beat upon an empty box. I so wanted to see the kids freed from having to "achieve" and maybe be just kids. But no, it was almost time to shell out the kale chips, sugarless muffins and vegetable thrills: broccoli, carrots and cauliflower. Whatever happened to ice cream and cake? We old tea sippers didn't dare look at one another for fear we might divulge our dismay. As I bit into my herbal short bread with garlic bits amongst the ginger, I wondered if my shower hadn't worked or perhaps my morning lotion might dare to have a scent of florals in it,  as the reason why the children, when we were introduced, hid behind the parental jeans.  Was it me or was it that I was maybe "the dangerous stranger"?  I had given up smiling at little ones on the sidewalk or in the super market for fear the mothers would instantly drag their kids off as though I were a potential kidnapper or worse. But soon it was time to whisk the little geniuses off home. The nanny had to be called because Mommy had work on Monday and then she had gym after but it was okay because they could make a play date later on in the week between soccer, ballet and kid yoga lessons.