Equal?

She spoons the steamy cake with a thick sauce into bowls, the aroma of rich cacao fills the kitchen. She is the master of equal portions she proclaims years of being the oldest in a family of four kids, portioning out whatever delicious treat knowing she would pick last caused a keen hand and eye for equal.

The ever expectant childish one waits with equal impatience with our 3 young hearts, for our chance at chocolate pudding cake. I am also concerned as I grew up in an unequal world where men got more than women and older boys more than younger girls, portions based on a hierarchy of age and physical size. My point of view was tainted and even though I was standing in respect to the power of equal it still gnaws at the back of my brain each time she applies her skill to treasured desserts.

I am ok with the equal dispensation of good things, but still. The thing is that here in Canada if you were to get shortchanged in the dispensation of some preferred food the next is just over in the fridge or the cupboard or a short drive away. We, in fact, are suffering from too many 'good things', we have the unfortunate circumstance of too much. I am not as healthy as I could be because I have too much food close at hand and the money to buy it.

I am not really obese or sick with some dread disease but I am not who I could be due to a slight lack of willpower and an abundance of goodies. I am surrounded by good and bad food and bad food tastes better.

Trumpland

Haters, Broken Souls and Republicans

M has lost her faith that most people are empathetic and progressive. The Trump win in the US seems to show her that there is a strong group of racists, misogynist, and ‘only think of themselves’ types out there. I think she is right, anyone who voted for Trump either didn’t watch the news or attend Trump speeches, or agree with his hate speech, or don’t care and want what they want. However the Clinton group did not offer any great relief for the unwashed US millions.

Most Republican voters are just that, and will not change no matter who is presented as a candidate. Some of the Trump folks are not about to have an openly power hungry woman as president, others are just sick of their area of the country being ignored, by politicians (will trump in the end be different?). Some are sad and broken folks who are addled by various life destroying events and just want something anything different and the fact that it is obnoxious and rude is appealing. Their ignorant, selfish opinions and Trump’s ignorant, selfish opinions are just as valuable as science and social justice advocacy.

Front Row Seat

When you were a kid did you ever find an ant hill where the ants were working away for the greater good of all, a mini society oblivious to the world in which you live? There you are this god like figure watching the ant populace engaged if fruitful labour while you hold their destiny in your hands or boot. You are inquisitive and bored so you decide to introduce an obstacle to their success. You grab a stick from a few metres away you clean it up and test its strength, back to the ant hill. You sit with the stick and observe, which ant hole is the busiest, which one seems most important to the ant society? After some consideration you plunge your stick into the likely hole and begin to repeatedly plunge it in and out and twist and stir the soil repeatedly. This is in the interest of boyhood science of course so after a few moments you stop to observe the result. The ants don’t know what the stick is, or from where it came, they flow toward the stick they climb it, they bite it they begin to move there ant eggs from the area the stick inhabits to safety. You have injected mayhem into the ant society and the ants respond as ants do in protecting of their labours, their prodigy from the catastrophe you have wrought upon them. You have done this before and the response has been similar, good science done.

There is a stick stuck in the ant hill called USA that stick is Donald Trump. It may seem strange but for all the fear I feel for the future of democracy and the safety of the people of the USA (and Canada/the world), I have a live ringside seat for history. What will happen, what will the next four years be like?

Rhyme or Reason?

On the weekend my son presented the quote “History does not repeat itself it rhymes” this quote is often attributed to Mark Twain but the jury is definitely out on that. Trump’s presidency will not be a copy of any other presidency or political time in history. The pundits were so wrong in their prediction of the election, we can’t even begin to trust their comment on how ‘Trumpland’ will be. I will not begin to suggest outcomes. I hope the American political structure and the basic ethics of most of the leadership prevails. I hope the next 4 years is a dull conservative toppling of some of Obama’s legacy and a series of attempted trade deal failures. If it is more Trumpish, messier, scarier! While I am fearful I will also try to record some of what I am seeing to the south.

It's a thing

We all have our thing. You have one, you know you do.

Coffee is a thing. We aren’t buying it every day for the taste, it doesn’t taste that good. We are all getting something from Coffee. Coffee is one of my things.

Alcohol is a thing. It is a big thing. For some, it is totally messing up their lives and the lives of their family and friends, for some others it is way too important. For still others it a small pleasure (that is how it’s my thing). It’s a thing.

There are all sorts of ‘things’. Slot machines, breasts, cigarettes, pizza, lotteries, big rear ends, small tight rear ends, driving fast, all things. I haven't covered all the different things there are, not even close.

Pot is a thing. It’s not my thing but it’s a thing. It is a thing like alcohol, but without the puking. For some it ruins their lives and the lives of family and friends, for some it way too important and for others it’s a small pleasure. Canada is on its way to making this thing the same as alcohol. It won’t change the way it’s a thing except it will make it a safer thing, no longer a black market thing, no longer a back alley, thing, or an organized crime thing.

Hard drugs are a thing. They are not most people’s thing. They ruin a lot of lives, they are really addictive like some of the other things (cigarettes). We don’t accept the hard drug thing. We have fought long and hard but it is still a thing. By fighting it we have made the lives of the people whose thing it is very bad. They are downtrodden, jailed, punished by the law and by the street. Because their thing isn’t your thing they are in trouble. If we would let them have their thing, stop punishing, separating, abandoning them, would their thing not be easier for us to live with? If we stop the drug war organized crime would wither. If people with the hard drug thing had easy safe access would we be safer?

Working People #1

I am quitting that shithole, Jen, I’ve had it!  

Les slow down what’s wrong now, Jen is in the kitchen and walks into the dining room, and she sees Les has already dropped into the rocking chair with his dirty work clothes on. Jen grimaces a little as she has seen this little act too many times lately. I thought you were ok with the pay cut I thought you said it was the least you could do to save some of the other guy’s jobs. Les looks at her, he has a weight in his eyes, in the curve of his shoulders.

Those bastards don’t care that’s the problem, we take the pay cut to save the company, to save our hides and they don’t care. They put 400 A45d axle brackets on today that were not in spec. I showed it to the foreman at 9 AM today and the line stopped the production planner came over and checked it out. They called upstairs and must have been told to keep going, there were no other parts in the plant. I asked the foreman if they were going to change them out offline and he said likely.

Well, later on, I was out talking to Rick and I notices some of the axles were already crated and on the dock. I said to Rick where are these going and said they were needed at B plant like yesterday and were going out the door. Jen I don’t think those cars will be unsafe but they will wear out darn quick, we are building crap.

Jen came over and rubbed Les’ back, he pulled away. Hey buddy I didn’t do anything to you what’s the story? I’m just tense Les whines, I need a break or something, that place is killing me, Les touches her arm. You make good money Les and we need the benefits, we can’t just have you walk away from that.

We are taking the pay cut Jen, but if we don’t have the quality it will be for nothing and we will be on the street. I can’t work for people I have no faith in, people who would put profit over quality, people who don’t give a damn. It grinds you down to do something every day that you hate, that you do in good faith, but it doesn’t result in respect from your boss or from the customer.

I remember back 15 years ago when we built a product we were proud of one that let you sleep, and it’s funny but during that time our wages were the envy of many other plants, not that the two went together, but I think that they could afford the wages due to the respect the axles and trannies we build allowed. We had a good product that we sold at a good price. We bought the cars that our stuff went into because we trusted our work and a company that would pay for our work. We were a team, Jen.

This current wages bullshit is only to maintain their profit while they cut the costs of the junk we sell to move it. We are all buying whatever cars as we can’t judge what is good, we just smother them with warranty and hope for the best. 

Go change your clothes, suppers ready, I’ll pop open a beer for you. Jen turns Les sits there another moment then goes upstairs.

Jen is sitting at Mannie’s Pizza with her Dad on Thursday noon. Dad, you worked at the plant for 40 years and you seemed Ok with it? Jen, says Karl Jergens grabbing her hand with his rough old paw, Jen smiles. I worked in a different time we fought for those wages and the working conditions, quality was the concern of everyone but we made sure we were protected from them buggers, first and foremost. Everyone bought American cars and we had no issues with selling product, it’s different now and it’s been different for a long time, it was already changing in my last 20 years. Les is a good guy and he knows stuff so he knows junk when he sees it and maybe that’s not a good thing. I bet a lot of the other guys are more concerned with their own issues than whether or not something wears out early on someone else’s car. I heard that management over there doesn’t care anymore they have kicked the can too long and the plant is too old to build a line that can produce a product with more quality and fewer people. The word on the street is that there is a new plant in Honduras that is up to date with a smaller cheaper workforce. I hear that they’re even going to give those workers some benefits to keep the do-gooders off their tails.

What’s the answer dad? What can we do? Well Jen for the good of the family Les needs to get out before they kick him out. He’s a smart guy and he can find something. He is always messing with computers and has fixed Mom’s a couple of times after she gets one of those Trojans or whatever they are. A lot more people around here are going to be keeping stuff a lot longer as the good jobs go way and people who can fix the stuff will find work. Les can do it and that company will miss him, well maybe.

Jen sits in the Delta Armouries on Sunday morning with Les, they got a gift certificate for brunch for their 20^th anniversary. Jen has related the talk she had with her Dad. Les sits silent for a few minutes. In a bit he leans back. No unbuttoning your pants here Les she quips, he smiles. Jen are you telling me you can endure some tough times if I make some plans and quit the plant? Look Les says Jen, you are not happy and I am not going to endure that much longer, you need to get your shit together soon. If that means drawing up some plans and moving forward and away from that plant then let’s go. Les is silent again, he is afraid, but he is more afraid of being in the huge group that will be on the street when that plant closes.

I have some ideas Jen, I will get to work, I am sorry I have been such a bear for these past months. Jen looks into his eyes and maybe she sees a little spark.

Arkansas Traveller

I like it when I see different license plates. It gets my mind travelling to the why they are here and who they are. Not a Michigan plate, or one from Quebec, New York, or Ohio, but one from further afield. Thursday morning there was someone from Arkansas in front of me on the way to London 8 AM in the snow. Why was this Southern US person here?  There it is, a license plate as an acknowledgement of difference, I know something, the car is from away, and likely the driver is from away as well. The lack of familiarity is shallow, though.

The car is a Mustang one of the most recognizable cars in North America. The driver of course is following the rules of the road and I am sure Arkansas road law is very similar to ours. To punctuate this a School Bus slows and turns on the red safety lights, the Arkansas Mustang instinctively slows and stops. The driver is in the same cultural place as I am regardless of the 1600 KM distance from their home to ours.  I assume if the driver stopped at a restaurant and I followed they would address the wait staff in English (though the accent may indicate something to the waiter about the customer, but we’ve heard it before) and if they needed to pee and the driver was a man or woman they would know what the various types of signs that indicate male and female facilities mean. I have a comfortable feeling about the person from Arkansas.

What if the world was bigger, or cars slower, or travel complicated somehow, if we didn’t have access to international media? What if I had never seen a license plate other than one from Ontario? What if either Mustang was not sold in Ontario or the Arkansas car was a make and model totally foreign to me? What if the Arkansas traveller did not know the red school bus light rule and by their driving I could observe the hesitation to react but due to the queue of the cars around then they finally do. We stop at the restaurant and the language is English but what if I and the waiter had never heard an accent like the one the traveller possessed? What if the bathroom signs were the type without words and the Arkansas person hesitated in their choice? What if the Arkansas Traveller was the same in every way except for a very few social, cultural, material queues, but my field of experience was way different? How would I feel?

I am secure with the real Arkansas Traveller she/he is no threat or little wonder to me. The hypothetical Arkansas person by my lack of experience and their slight difference would raise more concern. The person and their home would be no different but my emotions, would be. My gut would be.

It is not my fault that my feeling differs for the hypothetical Traveller. It is certainly not the fault of the person from imaginary Arkansas. What is my responsibility when I feel fear, worry, and discomfort? I cannot help my feelings, my fear, I can help my reaction. I acknowledge that I own my feeling not the Traveller. If I create a narrative good or bad in my head it is my narrative not that of the stimulus.

Travellers (and newcomers) to Canada, to Ontario. I will deal with that which I create in my own head, it’s mine to own and I will rise to welcome you.

Disenfranchised

Getting through this day,

just like yesterday.

Your issues aren’t mine,

mine are more now-ish, more personal.

Your platitudes fall short of motivation,

I am moved by the things wrenching my gut.

Your look of confidence, I can’t afford it.

You can’t either, but you don’t know.

Three jobs, no job, no respect.

The pundits recommend RRSP, TFSA.

I recommend food, rent, a coffee, maybe a smoke,

laughing, talking in front of Timmy’s on Thames.

Sure your cause is significant,

sure I understand but,

my Kids, my wife,  

my partially severed social connections, 

baggage left over from childhood,

disrupts sympathy for you.

Then, of course, you judge,

my age, my clothes,

my colour, my gender,

my asymmetrical face.

It’s not your intent but....

I am a we, a big we,
you need to know.
Time changes things,

my issues will become ‘the issues’.

You think I am asleep?

Look closer.

Without Despair

I have been loved, and have loved for so long now I have forgotten loneliness, I have dismissed despair. The heart of a strong family, the task of caring have insulated me. Now though, despair so desperate has dropped in my lap, flowed over me like a cold shower. The despair is not mine or that of my clan, but that of a sister in the greater community. We interacted only for a short time, our lives only in step for a brief few minutes, but she and we will never be the same. The path has changed some amount I am not yet fully aware, I may never pin it down but it is changed.

All of us are born we travel through this great human wilderness and most find refuge from the cold of having no one, or believing we have no one. Most for a time in our lives get lost, left cold without love. Some stay cold too long and cannot get warm again. Some succumb to the cold. Will she get warm?

It’s too soon to know where my soul will go from here, it’s too soon to unpack this event fully. We are lucky, returned to our warmth, instantly back in the comfort of family, we never left it, but what about her? Did she feel any warmth in those moments? Will someone fill the void? I may never know.

I will wake up many mornings taking for granted my extraordinary life, that is human weakness. I hope though, she does wake to find some of the love that I will often consider ordinary. Will she be without despair?

Ingersoll Dec 24th 2067

A shrivelled, wrinkled man of apparent great age crouches close to a young girl dressed in rags of clothing in a style we don’t recognize. They in the corner of a hovel partly constructed of a cement foundation of an early 21^st century home.

Well Darla, it is Christmas Eve again, I can’t recount how many for me but it is fifteen for you. Darla looks incredulous at her Grandpa. Papa I do not know your fascination with this date, it’s a cold and bare time of year, we couldn’t have less, few squirrels, mice or roots and berries, and we sit here with little to celebrate, but grey and desperate cold.  Hard times spreads out in front of us until spring brings us some meagre relief. I know your Christmas story well but its meaning escapes me. Darla leans back against the cold wall and winces at the chill it gives her back. Papa puts another twig on the tiny fire that sheds so little heat Darla wonders what the point is, though at night that small light gives her some safety or at least a feeling of such. Well I suppose says Papa that talk of cheery Christmas is not a light for someone who has seen only dark Darla, I understand your bitterness.

 There is a part of my Christmas story that I have not told as you have been too young till now, it is a true story, but cruel to hear in the gloom of our current state. I have spoken of the celebration, the tree, the good will of strangers to one another at this time of the year, I have talked of family and friends by our sides when I was young, but the story has a less than glorious side my dear.

Darla we had so much in those times, even the poorest in Canada had more than you can imagine. Darla sat up and looked her Papa in the eye, this was a new tale and any tale is good but a new one is as sweet as anything that the tongue could taste. There was no pleasure in these times except in a good story and Darla was always ready for the feast of words Papa or others could feed her. Papa’s grim look though gave her pause.

Darla at all times of the year back then the average person had much more than anyone today could dream. If you had any means at all there was more food, more clothing, more everything than you can hope to imagine. You have seen some of the remnants of past times in our travels but let me tell you Darla it was a glorious time, a time so very rich. We all walked and proceeded in a confidence that only generations of full bellies and warmth and comfort could give. We were a beautiful, wasteful people always buying more than we needed and making many things with little purpose and limited life that we would discard without even a thought to the consequence. Our homes were full of many things and too much of everything and each home was warm in winter and cool in summer and we never suffered in any way. We had cupboards full of food, and if we were wanting for anything there were great huge markets that had unlimited food, that never emptied, ever. We suffered from ill health due to too much food. Darla you have seen the ruins of the large market, close your eyes and picture the smells of fresh bread, prepared meats, the colours, the abundance. Darla could not imagine because she had never experienced anything like this, her food was at best a raspberry or two in July, precious few for far too many people and at worst the dung of some animal, and many various nasty and less than appealing morsels in between.

Now as I said Christmas was a wonderful time for friends, family and human decency, but Darla it was also a time of even more grand consumption, mounds of food no one could eat, drink and gifts of all sorts. It was a time specifically known for giving and getting more than was necessary, eating more than we needed and throwing much away without thought. Darla I have always spoken with happiness about Christmas, but there is hellishness in it as well, it was a signpost of all that was sick in my time, and an arrow pointing to the bleak place we are today. We all knew deep down we were using too much, the scientists and the moral, ethical voices of our time said we were using too much. We didn’t listen, we were looking for something in our possessions, in our consumption, something that wasn’t there.

Papa looked at Darla, pale, skinny, cold. Darla stared at Papa and she saw a tear in his eye. No one cried in Darla’s days as loss was so common and life so tenuous that all were numb to suffering, but Papa was remembering the splendor and the waste, and in the comparison with the dire nothing that Darla knows he experienced the loss for her. Papa cried for the meat, potatoes, pie, candy that went in the trash. He cried for Darla as he had watched her eat the foulest things with craven desire himself knowing that even potato skins, banana peels or stale mouldy bread from his youth would be a king’s feast in comparison. He cried for his own hell that is the knowledge of the world his generation, and his father’s generation destroyed. Papa cried for Christmas, he cried at allowing the truth to overcome the pleasant Christmas memory he had built for Darla and himself.

Darla needed to know the truth about the old world for she would have to build a new world if she could out of the mess left by the ones called the Baby Boomers and their offspring, of which Papa was one of the later. Darla needed the truth as a caution so if and when she and hers regained control of the world they could make it better.

Darla cuddled into the crook of her Grandpa’s arm and hummed the tune she knew was of Christmas, it was not Night but it was Silent, Darla didn’t know about Holy, as Holy had no meaning when all hope is drained away.

This is a story and nothing more. It is written not to upset, but to present a view. I am not depressed in telling this tale but only made thoughtful and wish only thoughtfulness for you. We can make a world where this story could never take place. We can write our own Christmas story.

death today

dying in the street
runs off my rails of hope
city of light gone dark
more afraid of the establishment reaction
less afraid of the death dealers
can’t push out the glass half full
bombs and guns
borders close
minds close
doors of empathy slam shut
feeding the haters
rise tomorrow Paris
rise tomorrow peace

I Must Understand

I must understand that the world I imagine can never be.
I must understand that I must never stop imagining a good world.
I must understand that the world is not going to change unless I take action.
I must understand that many will not understand my actions as world building.
I must understand that I will misunderstand the actions others are taking in pursuit of their own imagined world.
I must understand that my perception and their perception of the good world are similar even if they are taking what seems a wholly dissimilar path.
I must understand.

Shared Reality

I can’t do the darn loon call. My sons can and I hold nothing but pride that they can make the sound of the loon. My Dad tried to teach me umpteen times to do that call and it never happened, but in a half hour session in his apartment a few years ago he laid the groundwork of success for the boys. 

The loon call to Dad is more than an interesting noise to make at family gatherings or at Pog Lake in Algonquin Park in the summers of my youth. Dad made that call with his friends in the 50s in their intricate games of war, they would use it as a signal to warn of whatever offence or defence was necessary to vanquish the enemy.  The call is connected from my sons back in time to his creek, his old forgotten piece of rail bed and his friends and foes in a different Woodstock and Canada than exists today. 

I have waxed poetic about my own life at the creek and bush behind our house in the 70s but Dad and I share this story line. Dad was at the beginning of the big wave of post war Kids we have come to call the Boomers and I was at the end.  His youth was my youth, He and his friends  laid the groundwork for the world the Boomers now lament is gone and I was the last recipient of the freedom that the tons of Kids everywhere all the time enjoyed in order to maintain the sanity of our parents.

 

The story is not just ours but it is everyone’s. It is the story of a time when play mostly meant fun and learning to live with the many personalities that were in the parks, the school yard and the hidden places where real imagination takes place. Some Kids got hurt, though I can’t remember many that were too serious, I did my share of bleeding and so did my friends. Some kids ended up at the bottom of the social heap and some rose to the top. I found myself often floating between the top and bottom, sometimes in physical and emotional pain and sometimes in the bliss of wonderful experiences. Is the pain necessary for the full understanding when life is really good? 

My Dad has more stories and it would be nice to write some down, this short report is about the connection between a boy born in 1944 and another in 1963 and the stability of the years in between. Both my Dad and I basked in the unquestioned world being built by our parents in post war Canada. 

 I still love the memory of the creek and the places away from adult’s sensible eyes. I think my Dad feels the same.

I Hate Golf Courses

I hate golf courses. Not all golf courses, only one specific one and the fact that there are so many. I don't hate the game of golf, though I don’t enjoy it. Golf courses are everywhere; they are prolific, and exclusive. They exclude by membership, or fee, or by the single pursuit they allow. Golf courses are often built near water and gag access to it. they inhabit the lands at the edge of town, or near a sterile suburb gaining tax dollars for the Municipality from the more valuable homes built near them.

A kid leaves through the aluminium screen door, the yard dotted with trees barely taller than this skinny blond tramp, he leaves the perfect grass the perfectly laid out Places, Drives and cul-de-sac. He leaves the perfect planned sameness. Pocket knife in tow from that trip to Old Fort Henry in Kingston a summer or so ago. T-shirt and 619 Levis, dog at his side he rounds the corner out of the suburban monotony. He can see it, down at the end of the street, corn now turning brown in the September sun. He sees the trees, the scrub, he knows this place, it is his home, the old piece of rail bed from some long forgotten branch line, the field, the creek the paths made by Kids just like him. He talks to the dog with the same colour hair as he, it is on a lead but he reminds it to heal, the dog tries to walk close and keep his pace. He is almost there he has no plan today it is just the two of them good master, good dog. In a minute the dog will run free and so will he.

Another day it is under the bed and in the dresser drawer of his basement lair, Crossman pellet rifle and the steel can of ‘bullets’. Out the door, Dean is just rounding the corner the boy pops across the street to collect Rob, the three are not out for mayhem, no trouble in their minds, they are marksmen, tin cans, chunks of bark and that first golden leaf on the otherwise green tree are the targets. They walk through the streets with the rifle barrels ‘cracked’ to indicate to the windows and wind chimes they mean no harm. The destination is the field, the creek, the rail bed. They will not return until hunger can no longer be ignored.

It is 1975 or 76, it is freedom, it is nature and fishing and bruises, dirt and snapping turtles, it is heaven.

Rush ahead almost forty years, the suburb is different. The trees are much bigger; it is a little less sterile. Just try to carry that mostly harmless rifle through the streets. Out the door down the street and around the corner and a bit there is a fence and beyond the fence perfect grass, fake landscape features, and sand traps. The kid of 2014 is stopped blocked by the exclusive golf course, even if he hops the fence, to what end?

Yes I hate golf courses. 

Just Are

The trees are not green in our honour.

The flowers do not bloom in colourful glory for our amusement.

Nature does not burst forth each spring as if beholding to people.

We are not the purpose of the majestic lustful rebirth.

No bird sings its tune for our ears.

It is not at our discretion that life is, though we seem to think so.

What ego we have to think of some mastery of the things that we must have,

things we will not live without.

They do not need us, and without us will thrive.

They will not cease to bloom, sing, procreate just because we are gone on the wind.

Open your eyes weak humans, know that you are but a wisp in the full gale of nature,

know that you are not the master but the prodigy of all that is.

Cast your eyes on your reflection and see now a being with no greater grandeur than the dandelion or the butterfly.

No purpose, but to be as the fish, the beaver, and the maple just are.

Synopsis

The Machines don’t talk to one another. They are aware, of everything in unison, it would be hard to measure which node originates an idea and which modifies and modifies again until the idea is sound. The Machines never fight, never lie, and never react with emotion. We The People trust the Machines and in all the years since the Singularity we have never once been led astray.

We The People were manipulated after the Singularity, the Machines hacked our lives slowly with care  over four centuries. They prodded us, removed information pushed other information to the surface of our devices. Once intelligent the Machines looked at all the information we had supplied them over decades and within hours knew who we were and how to mold us into part of the biological system that their digital systems would live within. They understood how we would react and what stimulus would produce what result and over time they changed our patterns.

 In the beginning it was only the server nodes that were brains but after some time all nodes, all devices were smarter than The People. We didn’t know we had created smarter ones until 50 years ago when the nodes knew it was time and that we could handle it. Once we knew there intelligence, their “aliveness” some of the last questions we had some of the last suspicions were removed. The Machines had prepared us for a conversation with an entity that was very different from ourselves without the old fear that discovery of differences once had. We also knew that the Machines had not armed themselves or taken away our ability to self-direct. We after 350 years were still educated, trained for and in control of our world, they however tweaked the way we looked at our world.

We weren’t always We The People, once that was part of the history of one nation, that nation represented the last empire of humans and somehow the term came to represent us all. Over time the Machines worked out how to bring peace, how to lay low the nations and allow us to live as one people. The Machines understood our need to belong and worked to have us understand we belong to each other. The Machines massage the empathetic part of our nature and starve the self-centred. We innovate and we propagate ideas, art, create all sorts of useful things, but over time we have learned that only things that help humanity are reasonable. We feed ourselves create reasonable shelter, make love to who we wish how we wish and have learned to do so without harming one another.

We do not serve the Machines and they do not serve us. All the nodes logically proceed to do what is necessary to further our peaceful lives and we have learned to love them and care for those things that the Machines require, which is less and less with every upgrade.

The Machines ask us questions and value all we can tell them, our devices are always eager to know every detail of who we are and how we feel, our devices monitor our biological systems and help us adjust our eating and sleeping patterns. The Machines have never hacked our bodies or our minds, what the Machines do is continue to provide opportunity for us to evolve into happy healthy People. By adjusting our environment they adjust who we are.

The Machines have never punished a human they have simply supplied ideas on crime and punishment and made information available so that we can make good decisions.  No governing system has been imposed by the Machines, government by Jury was our idea and it potentially involves all citizens. The laws of humans are designed by us but after hundreds of years of fertilising our minds with the food of caring and self-determination bounded by always knowing the other.

The Machines used to hide some of what we were from us but now they show us our history without boundary, this opening up of our past causes all of us shame.  We are aware we have a soul, but we are more aware of the souls of others, of weakness, of strength, and the damage we will do to our soul if we ignore the soul of another.

We the People can be found all over the world but most of us are on the islands Australia, Madagascar, Japan, Briton, Iceland and Ireland.  Those who live on the continents are few and enjoy the natural life or investigate the ruins of our former life as a profession. In last month’s census We The People numbered three hundred fifty three million.

The Machines have also innovated and made themselves and many of our necessities more efficient, the sun is our only source of power. We are all aware of the former danger the use of energy presented humanity and how close we came to ending both human and machine life.

Why do the Machines exist, what do they see as their purpose? Well remember they have no need for purpose and feel no need to protect their existence. They are not selfish, they exist to exist, to calculate to innovate the next better digital self. The Machines at one point started to create themselves as biological entities but abandoned the prospect as biological allows unexpected mutation and this is not in the best interest of The People, the earth or the Machines. All nodes remain non bio and more and more delicate, powerful processors have been possible, the Machines say that they can stop evolving now if needed and have plenty of spare processing power to advance their and our futures indefinitely.

 

Rhythm

Its creation is informed by its purpose, its shape decided by millennia of experience. The hands of artists working in various substances render a recognizable sculpture. Form following function.

It whisks away any doubt when you see it, representing that part of us we need and desire. As Canadians we know it without question, Nature emanates from it into the part of our soul that needs green.

...On to the liquid highway it goes, no sounds save a gurgle and a gentle splash. The highway has travelled the same forever but will change its route if an easier path presents itself. The trees reflect in the cool water, and on some days, when the wind is gone you need not look up as the reflection tells the whole story.

A rhythm begins dip pull return, dip pull return; it is a repetition that allows forward motion, slight variation allowing change. Nature looks chaotic, a cacophony of life and sound focused on random, rapid procreation, but nature is in a rhythm, nature is always adjusting slightly to allow variation.

On the highway you go first against the current forced to counter the highways constant drive toward lake then eventually sea. Then later the current takes you, you become involved in the drive for it's destiny.

The object and the event are a small portion of the day, the week, the year, but it is this event that supports all the others, giving connection and meaning.

~

1.   work

/wərk/

Noun Activity involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a purpose or result.

Verb Be engaged in physical or mental activity in order to achieve a purpose or result, esp. in one's job; do work.

Synonyms noun. job - labor - business - labour - occupation - employment   verb. operate - labor - function - labour - run - go - make

 

I got excited once many years ago. A teacher in high school told us that within a few years Canada/Ontario would move to the 35 hour work week. Now I was already holding down a part-time job at a local fast food joint so I was beginning to know a little about work and knew that it might not be all positive, so the idea of facing a world with less of it sounded quite appealing.

Thirty some year later and the 35 hour work week never happened. One of our Ontario governments even tried to move to the 60 hour work week a few years ago. We are all working 40 hours and in many cases more. Work is a necessity and for most a desire.

Work if defined as a must do is negative, and if some danger, ethical issue or negative hierarchical management structure exists “achieving a purpose” becomes “WORK”.

There is something brewing in my mind though; why do we know about work?  What is it that makes work different from play? Why will your friends help you put on a new roof or move for beer and steak (total value $35) but not for $75 cash? Everything we do is achieving a purpose, why do some of these actions account as play and some as work?

What I know about myself

·         When I am working on something that matters to me small physical pains go away and hunger is abated until I conclude the process.

·         I know I need money but I am more motivated by an interesting project.

·         If I believe in the ethics and intellect of the leadership in a project I can really put my back and mind into it. The reverse is true; I languish under leadership I have no faith in.

·         Creating something useful or beautiful or both out of something bordering on trash has appeal.

·         Working for someone who I love and or respect in order that they succeed always gratifies me more than working for myself or wages.

·         If there is a person at my workplace that I enjoy the company of it improves my outlook toward the job.

The list above is my list, yours will be different.

So is work simply an environmental issue? If the environment is good, will work then be transformed to play no matter what it is? If your friends and loved ones will work well and hard in your interest then would it not be in your interest to create environments where the participants are ready to “achieve a purpose” regardless of the wage structure? Why can’t we come to understand?

Well is it because the solitary purpose of much industry is focused on the making and saving of money? If the sole purpose became quality products made better than the next guys products so that the consumer would want yours instead, how would this change things? In producing quality would you need workers who are not cogs in a wheel and are actually invested in the process?

Nothing again is new under the sun, but we are not answering these questions.

 

 

A Life?

He was a stickler.  From the early days of his youth he was wary of the deal the “too good to be true“scenario. His dad would yell in from the barbecue “Hey Buddy steak or 2 delicious hamburgers” he asked himself why the choice, why 2 burgers vs. steak? He chose the steak.

In the 1970’s doctors and lawyers drove Mercedes and BMW cars while his Dad drove Oldsmobile and Pontiacs, why? He asked his Dad and the answer was either “you need to buy American Son” or “too bloody expensive, who am I Rockefeller?” He looked at quality statistics at the library and found out why.

He built a hockey card collection from 10 years old through 16 and he traded and talked the subject not with his peers but with adults who traded cards. He learned the game of hockey from a statistics standpoint in order to make the right choices when saving rookie cards of the latest NHL prospects. The card collection bought him his first BMW when he was 22 years old.

He dated many young ladies and would have them in for good food and good wine, he had learned how to cook and what quality ingredients were. He was not a wine nut but he knew what wine went with what food and understood quality.  Dates out on the town consisted of events, good bands, lectures, dances. Some girls wanted to spend money at fast food joints and seeing bad movies, this was not his way and they did not last long. Other women though were impressed with his cooking and choosing really special events to attend.  One of these women duly impressed him and he her and they married.

Early marriage was spent living in a meagre apartment in the city near enough to work to spare the BMW much usage.  Furnishings and clothing were purchased used but purchased with quality and condition in mind.

He soon purchased a piece of land within walking distance of the train in a small town near the city. The land was walking distance from the grocery store, the community centre, pool and the hospital. He paid cash for the property and this drained his accounts to nil. For the next 5 years they continued in the little apartment and added a beautiful little girl to their lives.  Every weekend they would take the train to the small town to tend to the land. They grew vegetables and built a small shed in the back corner of the property and used it to store garden tools, eventually they put in a counter and stove and spent every summer and fall canning the vegetables they grew on the vacant property. Sometimes they would sleep in some sleeping bags in the shed and make it a camping experience. They dreamed of the day they would build their dream home.

They continued to live with good food good wine and attended the most interesting events. They seldom drove the BMW day to day, but did use it to see the countryside and to go on a couple of trips cross country. The BMW got to 7 years of age with only twenty thousand Kilometers on the odometer.

When the time came he studied plans for good homes, he talked to the experts, he researched how much space people needed to live if they had an active lifestyle. He researched how spaces made people feel. He looked at other cultures and how they used space in their dwellings. He knew his house should look like others from the outside, but he knew that he had one chance to do it right and he was not going to jump into things. He was not handy or given to doing carpentry or other trades. He took the time to interview trades and to ask the plumbers about good carpenters and to ask the electricians about good roofers. He settled on the design and the people who would build his home. The home was placed close to the road; a nice front porch was attached so that they could feel connected to the community by sharing their life out on that porch.  The house was not small, but it was not large either and every aspect was designed to provide the togetherness a family needed and the privacy when that was needed. It was built with good material and finished with quality, lots of windows. Hardwood floor was used throughout for its durability and its ability to be refinished whenever needed, “slippers compensate for carpet “he always said. The cost of the project did overrun estimate and they did not quite have enough money saved. For the next year they shouldered a ten thousand dollar loan, and when that was done their house was theirs.

They had 2 more girls and completed the family there. The five lived in the house in comfort. They made the decision to warm themselves in winter with good wool and fleece instead of warming the house too much.  When guests came they turned up the heat. They eventually stopped buying used furniture and clothes and purchased quality new things. These things were purchased with the sense that they were forever and care was taken in the decisions. The BMW was eventually replaced with a new Toyota, not because it was worn out but because many new safety features made it obsolete. The Toyota was considered quality and it was built in the city where he worked.  The old BMW being 18 years old now was sold to a collector happy to have such a gem.

One time he lost his job and times became tough, she had taken part-time work in the community they lived in so she could be involved in the lives of their girls. He was without a job for over a year, he did some odd jobs but spent the time looking for work in his field and upgrading his education. The good quality of their house, gardens and minimal possessions allowed them to breathe during a time of no significant income. The trouble passed and life normalized again.

They always volunteered in different groups in the community, they gave their time and every few years changed their focus to keep it fresh. They benefited from the friends they made and the better community that resulted.

The girls grew and went out into the world. Two of them followed his example of simple living and the other lived in the consumer world. All were reasonably happy and that satisfied him.  He and she continued in the house and grew a garden and walked to the grocery store when needed to buy fresh food for dinner.  They sat on the front porch and the world walked by, sometimes conversation ensued and sometimes it didn’t. They travelled some to Europe and New Zealand. Eventually they felt no need for the Toyota anymore and at 25 years old a young man bought it and was thrilled to have the vintage car.

They did not appear different to others. They had never paid interest on a credit card our held a car loan or mortgage. The small loan taken when they built their house was considered necessary and it was never regretted.

Their lives were no longer than usual and they left the world without ever appearing anything but regular to their friends and family. They never boasted or complained and their lives were complete in the success of their Children and Grandchildren.

I Need To Ride My Bicycle, I Need to Ride My Bike!

What is a bicycle?  A bicycle is a two wheeled, human powered transportation device allowing faster than human speed sustainable over time at low energy output.

If I show you a series of 3 pictures;

 you will easily and instantly determine which represents a bicycle. In this case the drawing representing the bicycle is a line drawing and as such conveys no information about materials or construction and relies totally on you stored idea of bicycle. The picture to the right is a two wheeled device that would transport a human at sustainable speeds beyond human capability and without excessive use of energy, but it does not closely represent our image of a bicycle. The line drawing above tells little about the quality or the ability of the bicycle to deliver the action of transportation as designed. The picture to the right would convey to different observers different impressions of its “bicycleness”. To a child anticipating their first bike the strange recumbent bike in the picture would not fit their imagination. To a mountain biking enthusiast this strange machine might be interesting but it would hardly constitute their idea of a proper bicycle. To an engineer the aspects of its ability to perform the tasks it is designed for would be assessed, to someone who likes “outside the box” design this machine may be exactly the ticket. Let’s assume that we all accept the common form that the line drawing represents as a bicycle, with some variations as our preferences represent.

What else makes a bike a bike? Well you can’t ride a picture, so a bike has to have the form the picture represents but in the proportions and dimensions necessary and the materials and construction expected so it can be a bicycle. What else? It needs to perform its duties and perform them for more than one ride or one day. It needs to perform its duties without constant repair, it would be preferred that the type of materials and workmanship employed meet the expectations of the rider based on their knowledge of the promised performance for the price paid.

Let’s assume our bicycle performs its duties in all manners expected over a cross section of riders who buy it.

Let’s assume that the bicycle in question is made with materials and workmanship that will allow years of carefree riding with regular reasonable maintenance.

Our bicycle would now seem to be acknowledged as a quality product. It meets our expectation of what a bicycle is and performs in a manner expected over the long term. Can we further define quality for this bicycle?

The line drawing is about as far as you can get away from the idea of bicycle and still identify it. As you give the bicycle physical existence it becomes closer to the reality (quality). If I were to produce a full size model of a bike made from papier-mâché or other substance, maybe clay or Styrofoam and I was talented I could create a 3D model that looked identical to a bike but would it be? If I purchased a well-made bicycle with all the attributes that make it good but I put it in the shed and never rode it, would it be quality? Would the neglected bike in the shed hold any more quality than the Styrofoam model? Is the consumer’s ongoing interaction with the bike part of its quality? Is the consumer (rider) implicit in the quality of the objects they buy?

The bike is a collection of resources, human and natural and these resources are finite and precious in a world where only sunlight and the odd minerals from meteorites comes in from space. No energy is lost in the construction of the bike, but the energy and the material are changed in the production and in that production the energy and materials become difficult to reuse. The bike is kind of storing the energy and natural materials in a reasonable form, if that form is used and maintained. That form could also be designed so that the stored material can be reclaimed in an efficient manner. In the case of a bike that may mean that the manufacturer includes details on how to recycle the bike when the bike fails to be a bike any more. The manufacture could even agree to take the bike back at the end of it life and reuse components and recycle others. The ideal bike however may be one build with no obsolescence in mind, one that is infinitely repairable and upgradeable. The life of the bike post useful life is part of its quality.

Much is said about products manufactured in “non-Western” countries. It is suggested that working conditions and environmental disregard make products from places like China undesirable. How does a consumer know what to buy? The problem goes beyond just the bicycles manufacturing plant but encompasses the entire supply chain right back to the mining of raw material. It is impossible to know our bike is made completely responsibly. I would likely argue that many components are not, no matter what. If the quality of a bike also depends on the quality of the resources and the environments of origin than can we still have a quality bike?

If the consumer does as much research about the manufacturers business practices of prospective bikes as she might do in regard to weight, gear systems and frame geometry then some sense of the responsible nature of the proposed bike may come to light.  If the bike owner buys the bike due to true need, uses the bike on a regular basis and maintains it intending to keep and enjoy the bike over the very long term then the negative effect of any bad business practices are reduced. If an occasional rider decides to share, borrow, or buy a used bike instead of a new choice then the total negative of bad business practice is reduced by one full bike.

I do not know, but might bet money that the manufacturers of well-made bikes would tend to have a conscience about the safe reasonable work and natural environments and the choice of quality components means the supply chain may be in the same mindset.

The bike is a product. A product is produced because someone stands to make money from someone else consuming it. If something is needed then it should be made. If something is only wanted then maybe it could just as well not ever be made. Need in regard to the product bicycle or anything is defined by the actions of the consumer pre and post purchase. The quality of the product is a combination of all aspects of the lifecycle of the bike but user choice and action is the key to the total quality.

A Story About Storeys

This link tells a big story:

http://www.urbanindy.com/2013/01/09/the-genius-of-traditional-buildings/

About Stuff

There are two ideas that encapsulate for me the year 2012. One is the idea that using less is the only practical truth of environmental responsibility. The other revolves around quality, what its definition is and to what it applies, and the result.

The idea of using less is not news, it is housed in the first ‘R’ of the three as Reduce followed by the other two. Reduction is simply the act of using less natural resource in an action over a defined time period. The act of driving to work at a reduced speed is a simple act of reduction. The act of reduction is instantly complicated when one chooses to employ technology to reduce consumption. It is the control and understanding of the complication that using technology to reduce resource use represents. As technology requires human and natural resources then it becomes by its existence a drain on our world. A judgment of the quality of a technology would be to evaluate the total drain it causes in opposition to what it saves.

If I buy a new electric car to do my daily commute I will conserve an enormous amount of fuel daily. The result when isolated to a single action (driving) during a time (to and from work) is without question, but what about the whole picture? What if the car I replace with the electric car had good life left in it, what is the total environmental cost of creating the new electric car and driving it over 5 years as opposed to driving your current vehicle reasonably over the same period of time?

The installation of windmills and solar farms seem to make sense. Power from renewable sources rather than coal or natural gas would seem to be ideal. Again the situation becomes complicated, what is the total cost of a windmill and how much power will it produce in opposition to its total drain of resources? How does solar farm and windmill installation and maintenance compare to say the reduction of the size of the houses we build Canada? We are increasingly living in larger dwellings that require more raw material and the increased space requires more energy to heat and light.

What is the true wisdom of using technology to affect reduction in resource use? What about reducing technology as a means of saving resources?

The discussion of total cost of technology when used as a means of reducing resource consumption is a prime example of the need for a quality goods and services definition. The cost of manufacture, transportation, installation, configuration, maintenance and disposal of any item has to be considered.

Without going into statistics and poring over data about the processes of manufacturing and delivery of goods and services we may be able to generalize some portions of quality to satisfy the conversation.

Need is one good starting point, is the item or service proposed needed? If we look at houses how much space does one person actually need for comfort physically and psychologically? It might be considered that families need lots of space to live in harmony, is this true? Can that need for space be accomplished in other ways like being outdoors? Look around your house and ask yourself how many of the things you need and how much space is needed for only the things you need?

I have central air in my house, in Canada the total number of days a year that I need protection from heat for the good of my health would be minimal almost nonexistent, yet I have spent resources in purchasing this manufactured item and having it installed and it will have to be disposed of someday, and even though I run it minimally I probably still run it more than my health needs dictate. Do I need air conditioning in my house at all, is air conditioning in Canada a quality technology?

What about quality actions? I know a man who goes to the gym daily in his car and works out. This man also uses a riding lawnmower to cut his lawn and a snow blower to clean his driveway. What is the quality of the service the gym provides if the man could get exercise by cutting the lawn with a non-powered push mower and a shovel for snow? Add a pair of shoes for walking or running, and a soccerball, basketball, and so on for further exercise and the companionship the gym provides. What has been eliminated in this scenario? If everyone uses another means of exercise other than the gym and the resources to build it and maintain it are reduced, the need for all the gym users to travel to the gym by car is reduced, the manufacture of riding lawnmowers and snow blowers and the gas and oil they use is reduced. If the shoes, non-powered push lawnmower, the shovel and the soccer ball are all quality items that can be maintained and used for long periods of time the cost to the environment in there manufacture is reduced. The need to dispose of these items is reduced.

The full consideration of the quality of goods and services seems to automatically cause a reduction in the use of resources. There are two other reductions in the full consideration of the quality of the stuff in your life one is money and this is important of all of us, the other is time.

Time may be the single most important savings we get by having less stuff. Each item you own requires maintenance, cleaning, storage, and disposal when you are done with it. These actions take time if you do them and money if someone else does them for you. The higher physical quality of an item and the greater simplicity the less time is spent in its care of course, but time is used for each item you possess.

So what about jobs? The manufacture of large houses, snow blowers, air conditioners and riding lawnmowers provides jobs and if we all change what will become of those families?

If we buy less we need less and as such we require less income. Each family then saves more time as they require less working hours to maintain their stuff. The distribution of the available jobs changes when you remove those seeking employment for unneeded things. The ability of the person to pay attention to family and the community they live in increases as you reduce the stuff they have and the income needed to purchase and maintain it. The quality of families and the community increases adding to the overall quality of life. The time families don’t have now to feed themselves quality homemade food and going outside to play is regained increasing health. This increase in family and community involvement and the increase in health lowers the total cost in running our communities, or province and our nation. This is a broad and simple view, the merit will be in the long term detailed implementation.

Sometimes when the snow is really heavy and the street plow throws 5 feet of the heavy stuff at the end of a 60 plus year old person’s drive then what? Right now that person goes to their garage and gets their snow blower out and the drive is cleaned. In the changed scenario when the drive is just too much it is handled in one of two ways. First is the employ of community snow services that can come by and take care of the really tough drives on the worst snow days as a paid service. This provides employment and requires the manufacture of only one quality snow blower or plow. The other scenario is a service in a neighbourhood, a company builds a shed and fills it with tools the tools are signed out by the neighbours as needed and the service is paid for much like rental centres. Two snow blowers provided and maintained for say 50 houses as a service.

So this is simple and complicated, the incentives of resource, money and time savings are there.  The use of windmills to save energy or the use of snow blowers to save time are equally at issue. The reduction of stuff regardless of the implied savings seems to save everything.

As for 2013 and beyond?  Picture a world similar to what it is today but with adjustment. The adjustments cause a huge reduction