What a Wacky World

Two dispatches from the "what were they thinking?" department:

North Korea. Seriously, nuclear weapons? Do they realize how isolated they are now?

France. A D-Day celebration without the Queen of England. How can you make a mistake like this? Oversight? Really?

There. And now, from the "I can't believe I'm saying I'm lucky" department:

When I immigrated to Canada, it took about six months to complete my paperwork. That's not full-time work, of course, but elapsed time. I did it myself, no lawyers necessary. Then it took them about nine months to process and grant me approval. I had been told that that was fast.

Wednesday I chatted with two Canadians working in the U.S. After several years, they're both applying for green cards. Their employers are using attorneys. One of them submitted his paperwork first in November of 2001 (talk about bad timing) and received acknowledgment that it had entered the review process in 2005. That's four years.

So I'll say it once more: I was lucky. Of course, I was also smart to cross the border in the correct direction.

Ponderables

A few observations, unrelated to anything much or even each other.

Goslings are cute, but not after a few months. Then they're just geese, like their parents, drooling green slime behind them.

Fawns are really cute. They stay cute as they age. Even when they eat our lilies, they're cute. Even when they're older and pregnant with fawns of their own, they're cute. Sometimes they're beautiful, but they're always at least cute.

Better to be a fawn than a gosling, huh?

Marriage between two adults, regardless of gender, is legal in Canada. Some people don't like it. Some churches don't consecrate these marriages. But the marriages remain legal--even ultra-conservative/ultra-political Stephen Harper (Americans: he's the Prime Minister) won't reopen debate about it. And yet, Canadian society has not broken down. The yawning gates of hell have not appeared, ready to engulf us all, either--and no handbaskets (or handcarts) are in evidence. Take note, California and the rest of you moronic states lagging behind.

It shouldn't take someone's death (or a national holiday) to make people get together to share stories and honor people who have been important to us. (No, I'm not planning to attend any reunions anytime soon. This is one of those Great Ideas for Other People (TM).)

Now that I don't have to peer over a snowbank to see the lake from my office, it's hard to believe it was ever that snowy. That's because summer is my default season. I know this, yet I still marvel.

Even when you live in paradise, you have to do the laundry. And it's never completely done unless everything is washed, dried, folded, put away--and you're naked. You can't even be wrapped in a towel. And the sheets on the bed, all the beds, have to be clean. THEN it's completely done. Which makes then never.

OK, I didn't say any of these were particularly deep. Just random thoughts at the end of the month of May.

Destination: Winnipeg

We're just home from four days in Winnipeg: two days of walking bookended by two days of driving.

I enjoyed the whole experience. Winnipeg is a large city but not so large as to be daunting. As we would say in the south, Winnipeg is not "all eat up with" its own importance. It was like visiting a U.S. city that's larger than Des Moines (but with that prairie feel) but smaller than Minneapolis/St. Paul (but with that sense of nearness of trees).

It has a functional downtown, although the buildings have their fair share of empty storefronts. I also saw few amenities for people who live and work downtown. For example, I didn't see a regular grocery store in the heart of downtown, as you would find in other cities, though some markets had some fruit and packaged stuff.

Skywalks and tunnels make it possible to get around in inclement weather, though they're set up less for convenience (they meander) and more as dowtown revitalization projects. The shops ranged from your basic mall stores to collections of inexpensive imports and the ubiquitous (in Canada ) A Buck or Two dollar-amas. We didn't investigate the bus system, but the city would need a really good bus system to make life navigable without a car.

However, for geeks, it's a pretty fun place. It has a surprisingly large museum and planetarium (and two children's museums) and an Imax theatre. If you're into walking to see what's around, both sides of the Red River have interesting buildings. We happened into a tour of the St. Boniface cathedral, which burned and was rebuilt 40 years ago. Interesting story and interesting choices by the architect.

The Forks is an indoor/outdoor market/waterfront area (and a natural, government-protected area) that is the envy of (and possibly the model for) the new Thunder Bay waterfront development. Throughout Saturday, people (tourists, locals) actually showed up there to hang around. The photo above is from a special display of mining equipment (it was Manitoba Mining Week or some such) there.

Those with sincere interests in things like ballet, opera, concerts/shows, comedy, music festivals, cultural and ethnic displays, history, or food can find entertainment and stimulation.

But one of the strangest parts of the experience, for me, was driving somewhere that wasn't into the U.S. No border crossing and passports. No translating currency; no need for a dual-wallet system. Just a trip--not even to visit family. Just for relaxation. A getaway. A vacation. In the same country where I already live. Huh.

Putting the "Wild" in "Wildlife"

In semi-rural northwestern Ontario, we see ravens and crows, as well as various types of woodpeckers and chickadees, year-round. Deer, too. The smaller birds--white-throated sparrows, warblers, some plover-like things, northern flickers--mostly disappear in the winter but are around spring, summer, and fall. Gulls, too. And of course the migratory birds (ducks, teals, wigeons, geese, cormorants) do their thing in the fall (flock and disappear) and spring (reappear and pair up).

The point is that some of what I used to think of as "wildlife" doesn't seem as wild as it once did.

But there are still exceptions, and twice this weekend I saw what still "counts" as wildlife to me.

Friday morning, a bear cub nosed around the entrance to the dump. I didn't see the mother, but there no doubt was one not far off, monitoring the situation.

Last night at about 8:30, WHEN THE SUN WAS STILL UP!!!! though setting behind the house, a hummingbird flew past the sliders on the lake side. No, it wasn't a bat or a moth. I know a hummer when I see one, and he did, too, though he fortunately didn't attack the bird in the glass.

So spring arrives, along with the chores Yang Time brings. Once again I'm slightly distracted by all the outdoor projects I could do and am trying to focus on one to get it finished.

Meanwhile, the weather is conducive to outdoor work on days when I have town commitments and precipitates when I'm free.

And yesterday I bought a new shiny electronic object that's clean: a Netbook. An extravagance but oh so fun.

Yep. Spring. And summer is next.

A Canadian Question

Yesterday, the "Ontario Today" program on CBC Radio One included the question, "Is the seal hunt any of our business in Ontario?" (A 30-day archive of their call-in show is available here.)

I have felt that I should have something to say about the seal hunt, since it's one of the ways in which Canada is consistently in the international news. The seal hunt occurs in Atlantic Canada, by the way--the Canadian Sealers Association represents the industry in Newfoundland, the Quebec North Shore, and the Magdalen Islands, according to its website.

The seal hunt is part of the Janus-face of Canadian culture, best demonstrated by extreme statements. One half: Canada is a polite cultural mosaic that justifiably prides itself on its peacekeeping role around the world. The other half: Canada is barbaric, with a history that includes World War II internment camps for Japanese and Italian citizens, unfair treatment of natives and Metis, and reckless exploitation of natural resources ranging from fur-producing animals to trees and minerals.

Understand that I know that the truth about Canada and Canadians doesn't lie in these two extremes.

And perhaps I should have something to say about the seal hunt, but I don't.

What I can comment on is the unique Canadian nature of the question, "Is the seal hunt any of our business in Ontario?"

You'd never see a similar question asked in the U.S., because the answer is a given: "Of course it's our business. We're all in this together."

For example, when a state like Iowa or California recognizes gay marriage, U.S. citizens in Oklahoma and Oregon and Idaho and Florida don't say "Oh well. Not our business." They don't even consider that as an option. In fact, people from Idaho may well have gone to Iowa to demonstrate for or against that state's legislation.

In Canada, however, the answer isn't a given. In fact, the attitude is more likely to be something like, "We're all in this apart."

Yesterday, that attitude was less evident than I've seen at other times, possibly because the seal hunt raises strong responses (as does gay marriage legislation). About the seal hunt, the comments I heard yesterday tended to echo Donne's "no man is an island; entire of itself" meditation, which I decree that we now all understand to apply to women also. Many of the callers expressed opinions through the lens of their own experience as hunters and trappers; others expressed disagreement with the hunt. But nobody that I heard said it wasn't Ontario's business.

Officially, however, provinces operate quite separately. Quebec has its own immigration policies. Each province has its own health care system--and when New Brunswick has consistent problems with its pathology labs, Ontario residents don't seem to adopt the issue as their own.

So is it important to Canadians that the seal hunt happens only in Atlantic Canada? Perhaps to Newfoundlanders, but apparently not to Ontarians. Which brings up a very interesting question to pose in Atlantic Canada: "Do you care what others across Canada think about the seal hunt?"

I Wish Everyone

Would go out and buy Molly Johnson's Lucky. The title track alone is guaranteed to brighten today and every Monday. Who knows--it might even cure road rage, the economic blues, and the surfeit of hockey.

Warning: the video below is a bit shaky, so don't watch if you have issues with motion sickness.



The CD has a few misses, notably an uptempo version of "Mean to Me" in which the sparkly music doesn't welcome the black-and-blue lyrics. I'm also not nuts about the Westminster Chime intro (the three-quarter-hour version, for those who are into that) to "If I had a Bell" but once she's in it, she sells it.

Molly Johnson layers meaning deep into the classics and makes you hear them in a whole new way. "Ode to Billy Joe" becomes more than the cliche of young doomed love--she makes it sexy and mysterious and tragic. In "I Loves You Porgy," her Bess goes beyond self-indulgent to show the honesty and self-deception of a woman who can't resist what's bad for her. "Lush Life," which I have thought of as "theme and variations on feeling jaded," becomes rueful and honest.

So go buy it. Or, because it's possible these days, buy at least the charming title track. Her official website, with ordering information and more background (including her bio) is here.

Because the whole damn world should be as lucky as I am!

Turn Around...

Early May is a "perfect storm" of remembrance days for my family. My mother's birthday was May 3; she died near midnight between May 7 and 8; Mother's Day is always in here somewhere.

Because I live where she grew up, in a place she loved, I think about her often even though she died nine years ago. I'm fortunate because to me, as time passes, she is becoming all different ages. She's more than the failing woman she became at the end of her life, the strict disciplinarian from my childhood, or the interesting woman I knew in between. She's a baby, a confident child. A young scholar. A young wife.

At the family home in town.

Posing at the big flat rock just around the corner from our family
camp, which is "just over there" from where I now sit.

Receiving her Ph.D. in mathematics from Radcliffe (really Harvard) in 1941.

Young marrieds. You can't see this, but my grandmother wrote
"And so, they lived happily ever after"
next to this picture.

And so they did, pretty much.

At the Crapture, I became custodian of a lot of family papers. I have grand plans for these papers. Someday. However, at the moment, I tend to lose time reading around in a five-year diary my grandmother kept from 1934 through 1938. It's fascinating to me in no small part because I see my mother's relationship with her own mother.

In 1938, my mother was in Boston at graduate school, away from her own mother for the first time. Money was scarce and travel difficult, but my grandparents managed to bring my mother home to Port Arthur for Christmas that year.

On December 23, 1938, my grandmother wrote "Friday--Jeanne arrived at home--beautiful and beloved."

It all makes me think of that Kodak commercial from the 1960s. This one:


Someday perhaps I'll have the technical chops to replace the images with scenes from my mother's life. I'll add it to my Grand Plan list. For now, I just enjoy being in touch with all the ways in which my mother was beautiful and beloved.

Practice Brings Mastery

What the CBC unrepentantly calls swine flu is still in the news. I think that's a good thing, but I may be alone. Lots of people are simply bored. Others are bewildered by the attention this flu gets. Their reasons include, but are not limited to, "it's tiresome" arguments.

• This flu is less lethal than the "regular old flu," and trying to correct those factual misconceptions is tiresome.
• The media is hyping the flu as a sign of the apocalypse and is desperate for someone to blame (Mexico, anyone? porous borders?) and that's tiresome.
• The public is getting het up and freaked out and that's tiresome.

They're right--those things are tiresome. However, I think the current flu pandemic is still newsworthy, and that's because handling this situation gives us practice--practice that's valuable and necessary.

Here's the context. In Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell cites studies from the early 1990s about achievement. (Say whatever disparaging things you like about this Canadian's books, and people do. He's still extremely good at finding interesting scientific studies and musing about them.) These studies show that world-class violinists practice more than those who are average violinists. Further studies show that it takes about 10,000 hours of practice to master any skill.

Ten thousand hours. That's five YEARS of 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year (two weeks of vacation). More realistically, it's ten years of 4 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year (still two weeks of vacation). That's focused, attentive practice with the intent to improve.

Five years, ten years--hours of practice, every single day. A lot of time.

And how much time do epidemiologists, public health officials, policy-makers, and virologists get to practice handling pandemics? How many chances?

This outbreak is an opportunity for all of them to practice. We should applaud that, because when another outbreak of disease does occur, especially if another outbreak is more lethal than this virus seems to be, we want them to be skilled. We want them to have mastered their work.

We want them to be able to track the disease accurately and find its source. We want them to be able to find and explain the risk factors, the transmission routes, the possible and necessary steps. We want them to be able to predict useful actions governments and individuals can take, evaluate those suggested actions, and recommend different ones if the suggested ones don't work.

Scientists have computer models. But biological creatures, like viruses and humans, also behave in unexpected and essentially unpredictable ways. Ask any computer scientist--she spends a lot of time tweaking her model's assumptions and algorithms.

And guess what? We, the public, have a role here, too. This outbreak represents a chance for us. We can listen as specialists tell us information; we can ask clarifying questions. We can learn to assess risk more accurately. We can also evaluate the media coverage--is it hype? what is being downplayed? how big a leap are they making to get to that conclusion? And we can give them useful feedback that will help their performance--and ours.

Furthermore, we can extend that learning beyond the science to international relations, the role of government, even to history. For example, why might China be extra-sensitive about this flu outbreak--to the point of quarantining Canadians simply for being from Canada? Would a group of American students have submitted to a quarantine (while presenting no flu symptoms) as cheerfully? Why or why not?

The good news for us is that we have the chance to practice these skills every day, far more often than the epidemiologists et al. can.

So let's do that, instead of moaning about how boring it is, or ignoring the story, or freaking out. Please?

My Old Canadian Home

He's one of us: Yesterday's winner of the Kentucky Derby, Mine the Bird, spent his formative year in Canada.

He was born in a humble log stable in Kentucky but was bought for $9500 (all amounts in US dollars) as a yearling and brought to Canada. As a two-year-old, he won four races in Canada and became Canada's champion two-year-old male. Somewhere in there, he was gelded. He was sold to owners in New Mexico for $400,000. Not a bad return on investment.

And then he won the Derby: more than $1.4 million.

Not that it's all about the money.

Because besides spending time here and getting into the Derby only on the basis of his performance in Canada, he's at least part-Canadian for two other reasons.

1. He didn't get much respect before the win. The Racing Form called him, as one of the "bottom feeders," "really really weak." He was known as the horse "in the plain brown wrapper." (All information from the Globe and Mail.) At post time, the odds on him were 50 to 1.

2. He developed into a real racer--a winner, a figure to respect--in Canada. But it was in the U.S. that he achieved real recognition and a seven-figure salary.

In other words, he's like a Mike: Mike Myers, Michael J. Fox, Michael Ignatieff.

However he is or is not tied to Canada--that's OK. Canadians will claim him as one of their own. Because Canadians are nice like that.