Big City Attitude--Melville, Saskatchewan

 In the early evening of  January 17, 2015 a friend of mine, a woman  who is of obvious Native Ancestry walked into a Melville establishment where there are Video Lottery Terminals.  She went straight to  the VLT machines and sat with her back to the rest of the room. She was aware  that there was a  table of other people sitting not far from her but she paid no attention to the group and focused on playing the VLT machines as she had done in the past to pass a quiet January evening. She was the only one at the machines.






After a few minutes she heard one of the males at the table behind her say " What ? They let Indians in here now?"




My friend felt her face turn red with shame and embarrassment.  She told me that she just kept staring at the VLT  as she relived those moments years ago when she sat in an all white school hearing the teacher read from the Social Studies text about savage wild Indians living in North America.


My friend wanted to leave but felt that perhaps if she just ignored the comment she would avoid any further barbs thrown her way.  She said she didn't even want to move or draw any more attention to herself.  She said that fear was the biggest emotion she felt while she was sitting there.  She was worried that if she left maybe she would be followed.  She was worried that if she confronted the racist speaker he would find out where she lived, find out what kind of vehicle she drove,  or harass her even more in some other unknown way. So she just sat at the VLT and pretended that she hadn't heard the slur, although she did text her partner in the next town telling him what she was experiencing.




 A few moments later another comment came in the form  of  " First time I've been in here that there aren't any Squaws." from the same voice behind her.   My friend said she heard some  whispered 'Shs shs' coming from other people at the table  and  someone whispering  "She's right there....."


It was about this time that my friend's partner arrived as a result of the text he had received.  They left  the bar together immediately without further incident or comment from anyone at the other table.


One may think that the incident ended there.  The victim left the building.  The main bully and his counterparts continued their evening at the bar.   There was no confrontation.  Just a few little harmless comments for laughs.  No big deal.




Wrong!




  An innocent person was made to feel uncomfortable and fearful due to the mere fact that they walked into a public place alone. An innocent person felt so  trapped and vulnerable in a public place  that they had to call for support  outside of  the building not sensing that anyone in the building could be counted on for support.  An innocent person has to now take the memory of this attack and  process it enough to ensure that if will not affect other choices she makes when it comes to her freely choosing to go out in public alone  for fear of something like this will happen again.


 
This incident was a racially motivated attack  with a victim and  perpetrators.  I use the plural here as the people who were sitting at the same table are every bit as responsible for the situation as the one who was actually making the comments for  "If you aren't part  of the solution you are part of the problem."






I always used to think that Melville was just a small city with not much to make it stand out from any other small city.  But in light of the above incident and the recent labeling of Winnipeg as the most racist city in Canada I guess Melville has more Big City Ideas than I first thought.

A Journey that Changed My Life

A Journey that Changed My Life










There is a contest on the radio that invites participants to write about a journey--a journey that changed their life to be precise.










Now not being anyone who has travelled much, often, or recently it seemed to me, at first flush, that this contest was way beyond my life experience non fictionally or even fictionally for that matter.




I thought of writing about the day that I followed the cat around the countryside forcing my mother and several neighbours to start considering cutting down 100 acres of barley thinking that my four year old little lost body was sleeping somewhere in the middle.


  By the way,  I learned that cats do catch quite a few mice daily ...but as I couldn't count as yet I have no accurate calculation of just how many.  






I thought of discussing the day that I journeyed to my grandmother's house on my tricycle  over 2 1/2 miles of dirt country road.  I learned that the next time I did that I would be in quite a bit of trouble if I didn't tell my mom first.   I also learned thanks  again to my mom that one must drive on a certain side of the road as indicated by the pink ribbon that was permanently tied to the right? hand side of the handlebars.




Another journey that comes to mind is the day that my older sister and I, while riding double bareback on our favourite horse across  pastures and unbroken fields to the nearest country school,  fell off. I started falling first  and then due to my 'hanging on'  to my sister,  her following.   As a consequence, both of us were late for school  as walking with horse on the rein is not nearly as efficient transportation wise as riding the  horse.


 The lesson learned from this journey came from   Dear Sis which was quite well impressed upon me for all time  and it sort of following the philosophy of Let Go and Let God...especially if you feel you are falling.












Then it occurred to me that I did visit the British Isles about 45 years ago and that perhaps I did have a bona fide journey to recount.

I did fly to the Bahamas that following Christmas  and I did  fly to California within the same twelve months.












I traveled alone for the most part.










I planned the trips by myself in that I purchased the tickets, decided when, where, and the how of getting to and from the airport, made  necessary hotel arrangements through a travel agent and purchased the necessary (in those days ) Traveller's Cheques  and filled out copious  passport forms.












I figured out how to use various currencies, ask for directions usually more than once  due to not understanding accents and different terminology, and to finally figure out how to use the London Underground without getting too lost, trapped, or 'falling in front of the 'bloody  train'' by watching others and reading the coloured signs.










I learned that getting food poisoning in a foreign country really makes you appreciate your mother more and that no matter how much you wish you were home you have to make the best of the situation regardless of how many times your bodily functions betray your youth and health.








I also learned literally that if you do "Let Go" and  fall off a horse  (rented) you have to get up and climb back on and ride it back to the Office because walking back with a crushed knee would have been more painful than  efficient in light of the heat and terrain that would have to be crossed.








 Yes, I journeyed  a lot that year.  I met many many different people from all over the world--Australia, South Africa, Germans, Americans, Great Britain, and Holland.


 I learned to cope with a varied cross section of cultural norms and 'misnorms'.   The women who washed 'all over' in the public washrooms, the dangerously overcrowded nightclubs with only one exit,  the humble but adequate housing of the regular Briton, and the children selling Conch shells to tourists are just a few.






Did my journeys of that year change me in any ways that were important?  Did they affect my future life choices,  change what I value in life or make me a better person in any way?








I like to think so.




I learned that North American culture is not necessarily the be all and end all.  I learned that there are many people who are very happy and content with living with less than what would be a standard fare here in Canada.







I learned that in general people just want to get along the best they can by taking joy where they can find it,  lend a  hand to a stranger when they are asked, and live  in peace as much as possible.












I also learned that one should never--ever--drink the cordial made from horse trough water-- no matter how tasty it looks or how thirsty you are.

Bowing ..I Hope Not ...to the Absurd

We are in the midst of typical winter weather where frost hangs on the trees with every bit of tenacity as it does on windows and windshields; where the  sharp and inexplicable sound of  a nail being 'pulled' in the middle of the cold dark night can jolt one awake with same burst of terror that one has when awakened by a door slamming or something falling to the floor *.  You know something wakened you but you are quite sure what it was.


It is the type of cold that makes the butter hard in the cupboard, the cloths that one has wedged into the edges of the door  freeze onto the jam, and the wood when placed on top of the glowing embers start to flame even before one finishes filling the stove. 


 It is the type of cold that harkens a cloud of frost filled air to follow anyone who returns from the  outside   become a fog bank of ice and frigidity whose chilly fingers scurry over the floor  seeking warming solace in the feet, legs, and ultimately  spine of any living being six feet from the door  resulting in goose bumps and shivers to its host.


It is during this type of cold that one can only be thankful that wood  and  fibreglass are reasonable
insulation and that the discovery that air between two or three  panes of glass can ward off both wind and freezing temperatures.   It is truly a marvel indeed that within a space of about 6 inches  the destiny of human life is allowed to survive and even thrive in sub zero temperatures.


It is one of these types of cold days that I chose to stop in for a midmorning coffee at a neighbour's unannounced .


It was one of those winter days where footsteps crunch, frosty breath lurks around one's head and quickly freezes the 'all hairs' of one's facial features.


  It was one of these winter days that  I left my vehicle, climbed noisily up the steps of the deck and  I pushed the doorbell and heard the welcoming call of  'Come In the Door Is Open'. 


 It was one of these winter days that I  opened the frost jammed door with a bit of a jerk and went inside  and was immediately accompanied by a cloak of foggy  ice crystals as the cold air met warmth. 


It was one of these winter days that my glasses  fogged up as I entered the house and as I took my mitts off to lift them off my nose I looked in at my hosts and saw  evidence of the beneficial effect of fibreglass insulation and trapped air pockets between two panes of glass, although I was not immediately conscious of that scientific analysis right at that moment. 


What did impress me at that very moment when I returned my defogged glasses to my face is something so image filled, so mind etching, so visually inerasable   that it  can and should only be expressed in rhyme .

Bowing....I Hope Not to the Absurd

Stopping for warmth on a cold winter's day
For a short little chat and a friendly Good Day
My mind became confounded and really confused. 
And not because of the frost or the fog that ensued
 
I saw three great big men at the round table 
And through my frosted specs able 
To see they were naked from the chest up
Eating their cheerios and  slurping from cups.


 As I stood there in shock, I looked in dismay
I said a short  prayer to quickly convey
My hope that I would not ever be able
While during that visit, see under that table.




* I refer to the sound  of a dresser situated  at the end of the bed in the middle of the night falling over because the drawers weren't properly closed.  Apparently it was a traumatic experience for a new bridegroom so much so that it has been referred to at least 4 times a year for the past 30 years of marriage. The tirade usually starts out with..."just like the time you didn't close the drawer of that dresser....."  So the unexpected and unexplained sounds in the middle of the night can bother a person for years to come...or so it seems.

KISS..*.

 In my quest to live minimally, I am attempting to what my  former owner of a TRS 80  Model I husband would refer to as defragging my house. 


   I even have a Social Media feed about living minimally from which I receive daily reminders about how happy, productive, spiritual , and rich I will become when I live a truly minimalistic simple  life.


The main barrier between living the life I live and the life with minimal belongings, things, and general over abundance is that in order to do so I must not not only stop buying stuff, but I must also stop owning stuff.   My cupboards must become decluttered, the bottom of the shelves in my closets must become readily visible, and my knick knack shelves filled with my collection of owls, elephants, and fish have to be limited to only things that are usable, memory laden, or  that which, due to its own physical properties, will become used passively and thus naturally disappear over time...such as candles, candies, and in my house...plants.


I started this process of minimization on a two day binge of cleaning, sorting, wiping, piling, bagging, boxing, and throwing and I have come to the conclusion that  there really isn't anything minimal about becoming living minimally. 


 It takes  quite a lot of work to pick up, examine, evaluate, decide, sort and sacrifice something that one has kept sometimes for decades 'just in case', something that has become like an old friend that one has touched, and yes it must be admitted, even fondled from time to time.


If not buying stuff would automatically make me a minimalist and thus make me and my house  happier, cleaner, and  more organized I could do so in a heartbeat as I live about an hour from any real venue of non necessities.  This fact and the wonderful ability to daily raconteur one's bank account online has proven to be a wonderful deterrent (if not actual hobby) in keeping the balance from being in the red.


Simply saying KISS takes more effort than it looks, takes more courage than it seems, and  takes more faith in the future than one would ever believe. 


May the  expiry date of the food in your pantry  be at least a month away; may your socks sometimes match, and may you learn to own less than you want but just what you need.




*KISS...  refers to KISS it Goodbye.....