We're sliding into the middle of June 2021, and a bunch of things occurred last week that left me in a head-scratching moment, thoughts swirling and coursing through my brain, most being of a positive nature, but a few leaving the pangs of anguish gnawing at my soul.
The announcement of a mass burial site at the former Kamloops Residential School containing 215 innocent victims of Canada's shameful legacy in aboriginal affairs left me in a funk-filled quandary, the flames of anger further fanned at the announcement of additional victims found at the site of a Manitoba Residential School site. I have a number of friends and family members that proudly display their aboriginal heritage, and I feel strongly that I have always supported the fair and equal treatment of all Canadians, regardless of culture or ethnicity, but I'm awash in shame with the knowledge that my ancestors could have treated their fellow man in such an egregious manner. While restitution for all families affected is paramount to movement forward, for me the more important issue is our complacency as a people that we have allowed politicians to skirt the issue for so long. Action is needed and I will begin my small part with demands that locally elected officials take this forward to their respective legislatures.
Whew! That's an emotional way to begin!
The moving process has continued this week, bolstered by the continual treks down the backroads to the new-to-us condo in Guelph, the Tacoma packed to the roof with mementoes of 30 years deemed too valuable to leave at the mercy of a moving van. As we reduce the contents of our familiar surroundings, double checking the necessity of each, attempting to keep the emotional attachment at bay, the quantity that will be relocated shrinks faster than my Johnson in a frigid lake. Even with all possible scrutiny, I know there will be some things that we simply can't part with that will be taken with us, only to be re-evaluated at a later date in 2021, but the emotions and memories win out for the time being. I like to hold the opinion that I have a fair amount on the ball thanks to a self-diagnosed above average intelligence, but do you think that I can visualize the various quantities of furniture that fill our new condo? Without them being physically present? It's a colossal struggle, but I guess that's all a part of the excitement of moving, as the oh-so-familiar gives way to a refreshingly new perspective.
One of my self-diagnosed character flaws is an OCD-level sensitivity to things that seem out of place.
This "affliction" has resulted in a number of bumps in the road over the years, many of which involved the mechanics of my modern life. It seems, as the proof is in the pudding, that I am extremely aware when sounds emit from things that aren't supposed to make those sounds. In my past, I have been applauded for that. My good friend Craig Shaw who was my go-to auto source of advice (and the reason that my son Keaton chose a career in diesel mechanics) has remarked on a few occasions that most people wouldn't pay heed to the squeak or creak their vehicle was making and seek out advice on whether or not it requires attention.
This "super power" recently reared it's head with my fairly new Argon18 Dark Matter bike when it developed a creak that was definitely out of place, and after confirming that the bike shouldn't be sounding like that with my Uber talented friend Hardy Wind, meant that a trip to Whitby's Impala Bikes was in the cards. Some of you may not know, but when I purchased the Dark Matter, there were no bikes in that price range anywhere near Barrie thanks to the extreme pandemic-infused shortage, and as luck would have it, I happened onto Impala Bikes at the right time to make the purchase. With hopes that the warranty would be honoured, the trip to Whitby was a necessity. What started out as something simple, morphed into something far more complicated ... in true cycling fashion ... resulting in severe withdrawal on my part as the repairs took 5 days thanks to where it fell in the weekly calendar, prompting my wife's comment, "That's the longest time you haven't ridden since you started this whole crazy bike thing!"
The reunion was a sweet as pure Canadian Maple Syrup!
The agony of injustice slapped me straight in the face when the news reported that a 20-something young man willingly and purposefully destroyed an entire family, simply for holding a particular faith. I sat there, slack jawed, staring at the newscast about the murder ... let's call it what it was ... of 3 generations of Pakistani landed immigrants who have been positive, active members of the London area for 14 years. Their Judge, Jury and Executioner? A still wet-behind-the-ears caucasian male who evidently harboured enough hatred in his twisted soul that he felt completely justified to run the family over with his vehicle. The only survivor of the encounter was a 9 year old son who will now have a life of torment and fear as he attempts to recover from losing his entire family. I can't point fingers at a cause, but I sincerely hope that it is discovered that it comes out in the investigation that the accused was not in a sane frame of mind, but as a citizen of this country, and am also hopeful that he is brought to justice.
I am enraged! I am distraught! I am aghast! How did it get to that point?
Many people have taken to Social Media to voice their displeasure or support for the way that Doug Ford's PCs have handled the Covid-19 pandemic and the resulting vaccinations. The roll out of the 3 main players in the immunization effort was, IMHO, a huge Cluster F&*k of proportions not seen in this country for many a year. This came to a crux when Joyce discovered while having her daily conversation with her 91 year old mother, that there are rules that Doug imposes, there are rules that Minister of Health imposes, there are rules that the Simcoe Health Unit imposes, and there are rules that pharmacies impose that are not at all guaranteed to be similar. My MIL had her first shot and had booked her second shot, but thanks to yet another change in the way things are happening, she got her second shot appointment moved up a few weeks. This aforementioned conversation was on the day before she was scheduled to go. It turns out that my MIL's neighbour couldn't get through on the provincial service to move her second shot, so in exasperation, she reached out to her local pharmacy for help. The response? "If you can get 4 friends together and come right now, I'll crack a new bottle, but I can't do that unless I know I can use it all right away." came the reply.
Ummmm, excuse me? Since when was that an option?
Listen, I'm ecstatic that my MIL (and her friends) has been fully vaccinated, but if there are going to be several different sets of rules, all dependent on who you speak to, then we're definitely in deep do-do going forward. I have a science background that, I feel, gives me a solid understanding to viruses, their mutations, infections, and vaccinations meaning that I'm firmly of the opinion that we as a world need to do whatever possible to get ahead of this Coronavirus, and that requires a coordinated, focussed and concerted effort on everyone's part. Having multiple sets of rules will not get that job done. Bearing all of this in mind, I can certainly understand with those that have been vocal opponents of this pandemic and all it's disruptions.
I don't agree with their opposition, but I understand it.
Joyce and I got our first shots of AstraZeneca back in early April, and got appointments for our second dose, waiting the ten mandated 16 weeks. With the government's announcement that AZ receivers can now apply to move up their second shots if it's been 8 weeks, we'll be contacting the pharmacy we used to see if they have flexibility. We discussed it at length, did some reading, and we've decided that if we can get AZ then awesome, but we would also be okay with one of the mRNA versions if it were an option. Who knows, maybe they'll crack a bottle if we can rally the troops?
Thoughts, people.
Thoughts fill my tiny grey noodle.
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