Gay in the Middle East?

The other day, my mother posed this question to me:  "If you were a corporate psychiatrist and you just got a job at [major corporation] which required you to work in Qatar, would you be openly gay while there?  Would it be safe?"

I thought about it for a few seconds and this was my response:  "In an ideal world, yes; you can be openly gay in Qatar and not have to fear persecution or worse.  However, we're not living in an ideal world, so there are a few things that need to be considered before answering that question.  First, and most importantly, in this equation: DoesQKatar adhere to Sharia Law?  If they do (which is pretty much a certainty), how rigidly do they follow the Laws?  The next thing to consider is whether or not American owned companies (or companies/corporations that aren't based in the Middle East) and their employees working in Qatar are subject to Sharia Law."

For those who are unaware of Sharia Law and it's importance to those of the Islamic faith, it is the code of conduct and or religious law of Islam.  The punishment for acts of sodomy and homosexual activities in Sharia Law varies in different Muslim-majority countries: in some, it's punishable by death; in others, it's illegal and will result in varying sentences; in others still, it's not illegal at all.

My mother and I continued discussing this back and forth, as both of us are staunch supporters of LGBT equality.  She expressed concerns that if being open threatens your very life, then maybe it's best to stay closeted until you're back in a land that won't actively persecute based solely on your orientation.  Sadly, there are few countries (if any at all) where you can live openly without someone taking issue with your orientation and making it your problem.  I'd like to believe that it's easier here in Canada; after all, here you can get married!  Dan Savage himself got hitched here.  Not being a member of the LGTB community, however, I can't say with absolute certainty that living openly in Canada is all that much easier than living openly in England, USA or Germany.  I do believe it's better and easier than in most Muslim-majority countries, however I digress. 

My counterpoint to my mother's (legitimate) personal safety concern was this: People who lived openly in the 1950's, 1960's and 1970's in Canada and the US (just as a couple of examples. I'm sure this holds true to many other progressive countries) did so under great risk to their personal safety.  Them doing so however, made it possible for people to live openly for the last 20 or so years and it keeps getting better.  They were the Rosa Parks', the Jackie Robinson's, the Elizabeth Stanton's of the LGBT communities - and many of them remain nameless today (to those not within the LGTB community at any rate) with the exception, perhaps, of Harvey Milk and Freddie Mercury.

This psychiatrist is certainly not the only gay person living in Qatar.  If this man, coming from another country is able to live openly gay, and not have to face any recriminations then it may just provide strength for Qatari men and women to continue or start to live openly.  It may provide them with the strength and encouragement for people, gay or straight, to fight for rights (not more rights, because there aren't any right now), acceptance and equality.  Someone has to make the first (second, third, four hundredth) move.  It certainly won't be an easy fight.  The sad reality of it is, fighting for LGBT rights in the Middle East may cost some people their very lives. 

I dream of a world for my child where anyone, from any country, of any religion, creed, colour or orientation is treated with the same amount of respect.

("I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.")

I dream of a world for my child where people who have battled through homophobic based persecution can now live in harmony with those who once hated them.

("I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.")

I dream of a world for my child where he knows only of war and the fight for equal rights for all is something he reads about in history books.

("I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.") 

I dream of a world for my child where he can go to school without fear of bullying.  Where LGTBQ kids, as well as straight kids, can walk through the halls with their heads held high.

("I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.") 

I dream of a world where we don't have to wait for this.

("I have a dream today.")

I dream of a world for my child where politicians don't spout words of hate and fight to demoralize, deminish and dehumanize LGTB people.  Where they can work side by side with one another and promote peace.

("I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers.")

I dream of a world where we don't have to wait for this.

("I have a dream today.")

People living in fear because of who they are, and who they love really bothers me.  When will it stop?  

That's retarded.

Today, a friend of mine on Facebook shared a wonderful link to another blog.  It wasn't a particularly long post, but it had an impact on me.

How many of you, like me, respond to things we disagree with,don't like, think is awful or just have a negative reaction to with, "That's retarded" or, "That's gay"?  I'm very guilty of using the latter phrase. 

I have a coworker of mine who is an incredibly beautiful man.  He's generous (almost to a fault), funny, kind, hard working, always smiling and just plain awesome.  He's also gay.  For whatever reason, it never occurred to me that when I say "That's gay" that it was hurtful to him.  I was using the word gay as a pejorative, and therefore saying that he is someone to think less of.  Of course I don't mean or even think that.  But I also wasn't thinking of what I was saying. 

One day, he was telling me a story about a weird call he had taken, or some not very happy situation in his life that I was commiserating with him on and said "That's gay".  He just looked at me and said, "Thanks."  Nothing else.  He didn't go off on me, didn't tell me off, didn't call me hurtful things, didn't react negatively in any way.  That's not his style.  He'd sooner gut himself than willingly hurt someone, even if it was in defense of himself.  All he said was, "Thanks." 

There was so much hurt in that single word.  So much disappointment.  So much sorrow.  And I had caused it.  I felt about half an inch tall and immediately apologized for saying that.  There was no excuse for saying it.  All I could do was beg his forgiveness.  Being the amazing guy he is, he accepted my apology and we moved on.  I have tried to be more cognizant of my words since then, but I can't promise that I have never used that phrase or "That's retarded" since.  It's become such an entrenched part of society's (the Western society at any rate) lexicon that we literally don't know what we're saying when we say it. 

Many of my friends have children who have Autism or are on the spectrum or have something in their brains/bodies that keeps them from living like "normal" kids.  A lot of my friends do, in fact.  Never, never would it occur to me to call them retarded.  They're not (not in the way that people think of the word, at any rate - because let's face it, when you hear the word retarded, you're not thinking happy thoughts, are you?  It's a sad, and frankly disgusting reality).  They're some of the most beautiful kids I've had the pleasure of seeing grow up through pictures, stories and videos posted on Facebook and their respective blogs.  They have some of the biggest smiles I have ever seen, and I absolutely love reading stories of them coming to grips with their situation and learning how to cope with it.  When their parents struggle, or when they struggle and their parents vent online, I hurt for them.  When they're over the moon because their child said "I love you." to them, I rejoice with them.

I don't know how or why "That's retarded" and "That's gay" became an accepted turn of phrase but we really need to think about who we are saying that about, and stop saying it.  You wouldn't say "That's so cancerous" or "That's Chinese" as a pejorative, would you?  No, because people who run you out of town for saying something like that.  You'd be labeled at best insensitive or callous, and at worst a bigot or a racist.   Well guess what?  Every time you (and I) say "That's gay" and/or "That's retarded" that's exactly what you are.  An insensitive, callous, bigot. 

Let's end the use of the R word, okay?

Hug your children tonight.

Faith the Warrior Princess, has lost her battle with cancer today.  She was just shy of her ninth birthday, but she decided that she wanted to be ten for her birthday.  They celebrated her birthday a few weeks ago, so she and her family had a chance to all be together.

She's just a baby, but she was so strong and seemed to always have a smile in every photo her family has shared with us on Facebook.  It's not fair.  There aren't any words that can be said that would make it fair. 

Yesterday, Kienan was brought back to his mother's loving arms.  Today, Faith was taken from her mother's loving arms.

Both are reasons you should go hug your children right now, and every other opportunity you get.

9/11

I remember exactly what I was doing, where I was and what I was thinking/feeling on 9/11. 

I was 18 years old, and I had spent the night at a former friend's house.  I was crashing on the couch, and her dad just came in from his early morning job delivering news papers.  I used the crash at their house a lot, so I was used to hearing her dad coming in at around 6am.  Normally, I'd just ignore the noise he made and go back to sleep.   On rare occasions I'd say a quick hello, ask him how his day was and then go back to sleep.

This time, it was different.  He came in and immediately woke me up and said, "You need to turn on the TV.  Now."  I was stunned, but did as he said.  I asked him if there was any channel in particular he wanted me to go to and he told me to turn it on to MSNBC.  As I was still pushing away the cobwebs of sleep I was having a hard time really latching on to what was being talked about, but everyone was sounding very tense and worried.  Then, I saw it.  The backdrop to the coverage was a live image of the Twin Towers.  On one of them was a huge plume of smoke. 

"Is that....?" I asked.

"Yeah.  A plane crashed into one of the Twin Towers.  They think it was an accident, but they're not sure." the dad replies. 

"When did this happen?  Do they know who did it?" I'm completely glued to the TV at this point. 

"It just happened.  I heard about it on the radio as I was driving home.  I don't think they know who did it, yet."

We sat there watching the news, quietly contemplating all the repercussions of this.  How many people were hurt?  What happened to the pilot?  Was there something wrong with the plane?  A thousand thoughts, feelings, concerns, questions were racing through my head and then the second plane hit.  I couldn't believe it.  Two planes??  Right then, I knew.  Everything will be forever changed.  In less than ten minutes, the way we look at the world won't ever be the same.  There was no question any more.  This was an attack.

What was really difficult for me was watching the anchor people really struggle with what they were seeing.  I think Brian Williams was on that morning, along with another woman and they didn't have a clue of what to say.  They were seeing this at the exact time we were, so they had no time to process what they were seeing.  No time to compose themselves.  No time to come to terms with the fact that one of their city's greatest landmarks was literally going up in smoke. 

My friend woke up and came out of her room at this point.  I can't remember who got her; it may have been me.  I told her what had happened and it was around this point that we learned about the other planes going down in Pennsylvanian and the Pentagon.  Everyone was quiet in the house.  My friend's toddler son was up and being loud (as toddlers are wont to do) so she put him in their room to play with his toys as we all watched in horror.  More and more footage was coming in, and more and more people were calling in.  Experts, witnesses, politicians.  All of them were trying to keep their cool as they were seeing what was happening.  

Tunnels, bridges, borders, airports; everything was shutting down.  America was locking it's doors. 

It seemed like we were watching the news for days when, two hours after the first plane hit, the southern tower collapsed in itself.  What was odd was the that people watching the coverage were aware of it before the anchor people.  Tears came to my eyes as I watched, knowing that if someone survived that, it would be a miracle. As reports came in that the tower had indeed collapsed, the anchor people just couldn't believe what they were hearing and seeing.  They kept asking the people who were reporting this if they meant something had fallen off the building, or if just a part of the building collapsed, and the people reporting would say, "No. The whole building has collapsed.  There's nothing left.  It's gone."  You could hear them fight back tears as they were fighting to stay professional, trying not to incite fear or panic from their viewers. 

September 11th has always had special meaning to me.  My older brother's birthday was that day.  One of my oldest friends birthday was that day also.  I have always had a reason to celebrate and be thankful for September 11th.  As I was watching New York go up in a plume of smoke, my thoughts went out to these two very important people in my life and about what was possibly going through their minds.  Were they feeling guilty for celebrating their birthdays?  Would they even want to celebrate it anymore?  Would they feel like they shouldn't?  I imagine I would be thinking along those lines if this happened on my birthday.

2,996 died as a result of the 9/11 attacks.  2,977 were innocent victims.  The number of victims of the attacks perhaps cannot be counted.  So many families are grieving the loss of their loved ones who died on that day.  So many people who managed to survive the attacks will be forever haunted by what happened that day. So many people were injured that day, have suffered or perhaps are still suffering from survivor's guilt, post traumatic stress disorder.  Many of those people will forever wear a scar on their bodies that mark that day.  Dozens, if not hundreds, of firefighters, police officers, paramedics, doctors, nurses and other medical, emergency and military personnel have died or were injured as a result of trying to save as many people as they could from the attacks. 

Children lost their parents.  Parents lost their children. 

Everyone around the world watched the day the world changed, just like I did.


*****Writer's Note*****

For many in BC, while this is a day for remembering, it's also a day of joy as a little boy was returned to his parent's loving arms.  Kienan Hebert has been found!  Sparwood RCMP received a call at around 2:00am this morning and were told that Kienan was brought back to his family home.  The Heberts were staying at a friends' house down the road and they saw a large police presence in front of their house.  They went over to their house to see what was going on and they saw Kienan, in the living room, holding his blankie. 

The suspect, still believed to be Randall Hopley, is still at large so please keep your eyes out for him and let the police know if you spot him or his vehicle, a light brown 1987 Toyota Camry, BC License plate 098 RAL.

Kienan Hebert

Kienan Hebert - last seen wearing Scooby Doo boxer shorts

On September 7th, 2011 three year-old Kienan Hebert went missing from his Sparwood, BC home.  His parents put him to bed the night before and at around 8:30 the next morning, they went to check in on him to get him up and ready for the day when they realized that he is missing.  By 9:00pm that day, the local RCMP issued an Amber Alert.

RCMP suspect that a person (I won't call him a man) by the name of Randall Hopley is the one who took the child.  They believe he is driving his light brown, 1987 Toyota Camry with a BC license plate 098 RAL.  Randall Hopley is 46 year-old with a long history with the RCMP.  In 2008, Hopley attempted to kidnap a special needs child from his foster home and return the child to his biological parents, for a fee of $2800.  There wasn't enough evidence to convict him on the count of unlawful confinement and of abduction, but he did go to jail for 18 months for break and entry.  Prior to that, he had 11 other break-in convictions as well as having been found guilt of a sexual assault in 1985.  He looks like a real douche-bag and his rap sheet proves it.

A week ago, my partner wanted to surprise me with a morning/afternoon to myself by taking our child with him to the PNE.  When either one of us leaves the house before the other wakes up (and it's something that wasn't discussed ahead of time), the standard operating procedure (SOP) is to write a note on a white board to let the other know where they've gone, if they took the kid with them and usually and ETA on their return home.  For some reason, I didn't think to check the white board when I woke up.  All I knew was I was awake and my child was no where to be seen.  I called out his name, went throughout the house to look at all possible hiding spots, checked the front door (which was locked - dead bolt).  He was no where.  Irrationally, I thought maybe he was with my sister, so I called her to see if that was the case.  She was the level headed one of the two of us and told me to call my partner.  For some bizarre reason, I was holding off calling him because I didn't want to worry him on his day off.  So here I am, in this gut wrenching panic, about to call the police to say someone stole my child and I call my partner.  In tears, I ask if he has our kid and he seemed confused that I was as panicked as I was.  He said, "Well, yeah I have him.  Didn't you check the white board?"  Sure enough, there was a note from him that he took our child with him to the Fair.

That was the single most terrifying moment of my life.  I nearly died in a trucking accident 7 years ago, and the fear I felt in those few seconds from when I knew we were about to collide to when the collision occurred didn't even come close to the fear I felt when I thought (rather irrationally.  Seriously, had I checked the white board, I wouldn't have had to feel that fear) that someone had my baby.  I saw my life flash before my eyes, convinced I was going to die on that snowy highway, and I would rather go through that experience every day for the rest of my life than feel what it felt like when I thought someone had my kid for even one millisecond.

The thing is, I know - without a shadow of doubt  - that what I felt can't even come close, can't even compare to what Kienan's mother, father and family are feeling right know.  I felt as though someone had clawed my heart, my very soul, from my body with their bare hands and I know that while that feeling only lasted a few minutes, Kienan's mother is feeling it minute after minute.  Hour after hour.  Day after day.  God, I can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to not only know that your baby is gone, that some evil person STOLE your little angel, but to know that that bastard took him from your very house!  While you were there!  Your house is the one place your child should always, ALWAYS feel safe.  The person didn't just take their child; he took away their home.  Their feeling of safety, of security, of comfort.  He took away everything that that house is supposed to be to that family when he took their child.

My heart aches for Kienan and his family.  There have been some possible sightings, in Kamloops, Dawson Creek, Chetwynd and on the ferry heading from Tsawwassen to Vancouver Island.  Sadly, nothing has come from either of those sightings.  I can't imagine how it feels to think that your child may be finally coming home only to have that too, ripped away from you.

In all of my melodramatic writing, I will say that I am really impressed with how the cities around them, around us all, seem to be responding.  As soon as the Amber Alert came out, TransLink busses have been alerting riders that the alert is still in effect.  SkyTrain stations are posting information about Kienan, Hopley and Hopley's vehicle.  When the RCMP and BC Ferry found out that there was a possible sighting on one of the ferries, they immediately turned the ship around and brought it back to Tsawwassen.  Alberta RCMP, and Canadian Border Services are on full alert.  Even on Facebook and Twitter, everyone is sharing information, updates or simply wishing for the best possible outcome for the Hebert family.

If the Heberts somehow reads this post: I am so sorry that this is happening to you.  I am fighting back tears as I write this because no one should have to feel the pain you are feeling right now.  I imagine the only thing that can possibly the ache in your soul right is to have your son safely in your arms and I hope, with every fiber of my being that tonight is the last night that you will ever have to go to bed (if you are even able to sleep) wondering where your baby boy is. 

If Hopley (or whomever has Kienan right now) reads this: bring that little boy back to where he belongs.  Bring him back his family.  You have brought so much pain to the Heberts, the people of Sparwood and all the communities - big or small - that have been hurting with and for the Heberts, to your mother.  For once in your life, do something right and let that sweet little boy go home to his parents and siblings.

To everyone else reading this (especially those in BC, Alberta and Washington):  it is the RCMP's belief that if they find the car belonging to Hopley, they'll find Hopley and they'll find Kienan.  Please keep your eyes peeled for a light brown, 1987 Toyota Camry with a BC license plate 098 RAL.  If you see this vehicle, don't be a hero! Don't be a vigilante!  Get as good a look as you safely can and immediately call the police and let them know exactly where you saw the vehicle, exactly when, and exactly what it was doing (is the vehicle parked?  Driving north towards Fort St. John?  Is the driver driving erratically?) and by all means, KEEP YOURSELF SAFE!!  You won't be helping anyone if you engage Hopley, least of all that little boy.

Randall Hopley, the person suspected of abducting Kienan Hebert.

.

Hopley drives a 1987 Toyota Camry, believed to look like this one.  BC license plate is 098 RAL

________________________________________________________

 *****UPDATE 9.10.2011*****

• Please go to the Find Kienan Hebert page for important updates and information.  When there, print out a photo of Kienan and post it around your neighbourhood with a yellow ribbon.  There are vigils being held in communities all over BC and Alberta.  If there's one in your area, please consider going.   
• The Amber Alert has been officially extended to Alberta, Canada and Washington, USA. 
• For the fourth day, 500 volunteers are actively searching for Kienan in and around Sparwood, including a search party headed by Sarah Gasparetto who is searching off the beaten path. 
• Police confirm that there was an attempted abduction in Sparwood earlier on the day Kienan was taken.
• The follow quote is a message from Kienan's parents to the abductor:

  "Speaking to whoever has Kienan right now.  We are just asking please bring Kienan to a safe place right now.  Okay.  Like a gas station or a store parking lot where he is visibly seen and you can just drop him off there.  Walk away.  We just want him safe.  Kienan is only three-years-old right now, and as you know and we know, Kienan can't speak.  So he can't tell us who you are.  This is your chance now to get away. All we want is Kienan to come back with us and to be safe in our arms again.  Thank you,"

The evils of Wal-Mart

So yesterday, I posted a status on my Facebook.  It was "Wal-Mart + Labour Day = Really Bad Idea!!"  It was unbelievably busy there, yesterday!  It was like it was Boxing Day there.  Busier, in fact! Unfortunately it was unavoidable because I had a prescription that needed filling and Wal-Mart is the cheapest option.   To the uninitiated, Facebook has this feature that will sometimes show you your status (or a friends' status) from exactly a year ago.  I put that post up to A) Warn people to stay away from Wal-Mart that day, to save them a headache and B) To serve as a reminder in case I or my partner gets a thought to go to Wal-Mart next year on Labour Day to stay the hell away.

Turns out this status was incredibly controversial. A well meaning friend of mine took issue with the fact that we spend our money at a place like Wal-Mart.  Other friends, and myself, defended our decisions to shop there.  It wound up being rather heated, so I thought that maybe this is worth a blog post.

I don't think too many people actually like to shop at Wal-Mart.  So often, I see friends posting on their Facebook that they have to go shopping at Wal-Mart and ask us to wish them luck.  Alternatively, I will see posts where they returned from Wal-Mart and they're asking themselves (on Facebook) just what they were thinking going there.  I imagine, if people actually enjoyed shopping at Wal-Mart, the website People of Wal-Mart wouldn't be nearly as popular.  You don't see websites like People of Superstore, People of Sears, People of Zellers.  Shopping at Wal-Mart carries a certain social stigma.

We all know, that Wal-Mart is more concerned with lining their coffers than they are with supporting fair trade, local businesses, ethical business practices.  We all know this.  The fact of the matter is: due to the current financial climate, aforementioned questionable/unethical business practices of big box stores, inability to work/find work, etc. many of us are in a position where we need to weigh our need to support our family and make every dollar stretch as far as possible with our need to stand on ethical/moral high ground.  When you're living from paycheque to paycheque or worse, you can't afford to have morals.  You're not proud of that, you don't say it out loud, but it's the truth.

In an ideal world, we'd be able to afford to shop locally.  We'd buy our books from the small bookstores (and those bookstores would be able to stock the books that we wish to buy), we'd buy our clothes from local boutiques (and those boutiques would be able to sell clothes in all sizes), we'd buy our groceries from local grocery stores (and they'd be able to afford to stock the shelves with what we need/want at a competitive price, and we wouldn't have to go to one store to buy produce, another to buy meat, another to buy bread.. so on and so forth.  I find it hard to argue the ethics of shopping locally, when you're driving from store to store to store wasting fuel and polluting the earth with the exhaust from your vehicle), and we'd be able to ALSO rail against big box stores' and their refusal of fair trade practices. 

Having said that, when the choice is my child's well being or someone else's well being the decision will just about always be my child.  Maybe, just maybe, choosing my child will enable him to grow up and go into a profession that provides him with the means and/or opportunity to defend those (possibly even those making wares for Wal-Mart and their ilk) who need defending.

I can live with that, and my child won't want for food, clothing and shelter. 


Writer's Note: 

I have attached links that provide those with the means to donate to organizations that focus on putting an end to child labour, articles about child labour, support fair trade practices, and a list of articles that list items made using fair trade practices.  It's a short list so far but please, if you know of other links that will help educate consumers or aid in the fight for fair trade and a stop to forced/child labour let me know, and I will add it to the list.

UNICEF
Save the Children - India
FairTrade.net
Where to buy Fair Trade products

Father of Mine

Father of mine
Come talk to me
Father of mine
See what I have come to be
Father of mine
I miss you
Father of mine
Do you think of me, too?
Father of mine
Mom holds my hand
Father of mine
She's with a new man
Father of mine
You have been replaced
Father of mine

I wrote this poem about eleven or twelve years ago when /I was struggling with the relationship I had with my biological father - or lack thereof, really.  A lot has changed since then.  I stopped going to school, got a job, moved out of my parents' house, moved to another city, got another job, met a guy, fell in love, almost died in a car accident, left the guy, moved back to my parents' house, got a new job, met a new guy, fell in love and somewhere along the way, I stopped caring about having a relationship with my biological father.  The most significant change however, was that I had a child.

You change in so many ways when you have a child.  The changes are different for every new parent.  Me, I felt stronger, more focused, less stressed out, more grounded.  those who now me best are probably laughing to themselves a little.  Let's just say... usually I'm less stressed, more grounded, yadda, yadda, yadda. 

One of the most positive changes, I feel, is that I have learned to appreciate my step-father more.  He and my mother have been married for just over 15 years.  He's been a part of our lives for just about 19 years.  Our relationship have been... well indescribable.  For the first few years, we were pals.  Then I entered my teenage years at the same time my kid sister was born.  Now anyone with teenaged daughters know that this is a powder-keg situation just waiting to explode.  Again, anyone with teenaged daughters knows that she will use just about any excuse she can take to explode.  Especially if it means she's going to get her way, or better yet, attention. 

I wasn't a bad kid; I wasn't rebellious, didn't do drugs, didn't get mixed up with the wrong crowd.  I would just get... frustrated at times that my parents (I thought) would get in the way.  Add to that some jealousy towards my kid sister and I would look for someone to blame.  Usually it was my mother who would suffer my teenaged wrath, but there were a couple of memorable times where my step-dad and I would butt heads.

A result of those couple of times was that our initially amicable relationship grew lukewarm; at least on my part.  For his part though, he was really patient.  He was always very aware of the face that a step-father/step-daughter relationship can be very volatile and I guess he knew to wait.

Having a child of my own helped me to realize that my step-dad has always been there for me in exactly the way I needed him to be there.  I have always known that he is a terrific father to my kid sister, but it wasn't until I had my own child that I realized what a great father he has always been to me. 

Everyone knows the adage that any idiot can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a dad.  My biological father may have contributed to my very existence and for that I am forever thankful(though it's my mother to who, I will attribute most of the credit to).  However it is my step-dad I am lucky enough to call Dad (thought it too me a long time to get there).  To  me, that is a wonderful give that I have finally learned to cherish. 

I love you, Dad.  Thanks. 

Dad and I playing hockey, about 16 years ago.

Whatever happened to cursive writing?

I was watching an episode of Antiques Roadshow (yes, I know.  I'm cool like that) and this woman had a journal that was kept by the first mate of some expedition back in the early - mid 1900's (soon weird to write that, by the way) and I was struck by how beautiful this man's penmanship. Again later on in the show, there was yet another letter (or series of letters) from the early 19th C. that was on display and fetched someone a pretty penny or two, with even more beautiful penmanship.

In another episode, this person's granddaddy (as he called him) started a collection of letters and autographs from many different pioneers in aviation.  Part of that collection was a letter from Neil Armstrong.  As you can probably imagine, I thought his penmanship was equally impressive as the previous two examples.

This led me to think of my own penmanship (and by penmanship, I mean cursive writing) and that of those around me, and I felt saddened that this seems to be a lost art.  Not 40 or 50 years ago, men and women alike had it drilled into them the importance of good and proper cursive writing abilities and with the advent of the home computer, it slowly started going the way of the Dodo.

I was taught cursive writing when I was in school but it wasn't drilled into you.  Unless you were working on some Language Arts project in school and you were specifically told to write in cursive, you were allowed to write any which way you wanted (more or less).  I have to wonder if they're even going to bother teaching my son how to write in cursive writing when he goes to school or if the schools will be satisfied with the fact that they even know how to put pen to paper, rather than typing everything out.  My kid sister tells me often that her assignments have to be typed out, not hand written.

I propose we bring back cursive writing!  It's such a beautiful writing technique that really doesn't require a whole lot of effort and makes the reader of whatever it is you're writing think you may actually have a care as to what you are presenting (provided it's legible, of course).  Wouldn't you love to get a letter from a loved one with writing that looked as beautiful as the one shown below?  I know I would.  I think after this, I'm going to brush up on my cursive. 

 

Speaking of writing, my dad is going to write a whole novel in three days!  He's streaming it online and hoping to raise money for the Vancouver Fringe Festival.  Why not pop in and say hi?