Labour Day 2020

     It's the morning of September 6th as I start to write this post. It is something of a tradition of mine to write something at the end of summer. Sometimes it's a blog post and sometimes it's simply an entry in my private journal. Often It is nothing more than a (grown-up?) version of that dreaded first assignment in English class, "What I did on my summer vacation."

     It has been a strange summer.  Hell, since the declaration of a worldwide pandemic in early March,  it's been a strange year! Yeah, I know,  I have a tremendous grasp of the obvious.  

     I had dinner in a restaurant last night.  It was the first time that I had done that in months. (With the exception of a patio lunch a week or two ago on a day trip with my son.)   Of  course a mask and hand sanitizing was required to enter the establishment. But once seated, with proper regard to social distancing we enjoyed a very good meal. A large beef stir fry served on bed of rice. My friend is looking for a new home  and I accompanied her on a short tour of the countryside near Lake Erie in an effort to find a few addresses.  We ended up in Port Burwell where I managed to capture a decent shot of the pier jutting out into Lake Erie between bouts of passing rain showers.

     I have to admit that I have been in a bit of a funk lately. The pandemic has kept me close to home. I don't own a vehicle so the simple act of just getting out of town for awhile was a hassle. Earlier in the season, when the country was just coming out of the shutdown,  I wasn't sure if I could even rent a car much less find restaurants or accommodations for a road trip.  It kind of put a damper on the  traditional road trip my son and I take every summer. We usually just rent a car with only a vague idea of a destination or activities. There have been times when we've found ourselves at the crossroads of a secondary highway and simply looked to see which way was more interesting. "Left or right?"                                                                           

Downtown Goderich, Ont.

     

     I compromised a couple of weeks ago by renting a car for a few days and doing a few day trips. It was nice to get out of town but it lacked the sense of freedom that comes with spending several days on the road and not motoring back to home base each night. For the most part, I didn't  take many pictures. I think that I was trying too hard to find the spirit of summer in the brief time I allowed myself.  As usual, the Labour Day weekend brings with it the slightly melancholy feeling that I missed out on a lot of what the warm weather and long days had to offer. 

     But Autumn is coming. It's my favourite time of the year. I love the cooler days and the beauty of the colours.  I know that I still have a lot of holiday time to use up. I think a fall colour tour could be (and should be)  arranged. Despite the requirements of face masks, hand sanitizer and social distancing, things are starting to open up.  The  efforts of a population trying to tame a contagious virus should not go unrewarded. The countryside and   lakes and rivers are still beautiful. Better days ahead. 

     Last night I had dinner in a restaurant with a good friend. 

              ...more later 

     

Contrasts

     I've had an interesting couple of days off. Yesterday, I took a day trip to Toronto.I guess that I was feeling the old springtime restlessness. Don't get me wrong, I love the little town where I live, but, its biggest fault is that it is just that, a little town. I can only walk overly familiar streets and paths for so long. I enjoyed my day immensely. With some quick last minute planning, I arranged to catch the Paris shuttle to the Via Rail station in nearby Brantford and, after a quick sandwich at the Station Cafe found myself on a train to Hogtown.  

     Toronto is a city that always seems to be under construction. I mean most cities have a few projects going on here or there but for Toronto, it seems to be its primary indusrtry! As I wandered up Yonge St., I found it difficult to make a photograph without construction equipment, scaffolding or construction barriers in it! 

Old bank building on Yonge St. Note construction crane at top.

Same picture with crane removed. Ahh, the wonders of Photoshop! If you look to the lower right of the picture you'll still see some construction gear and I was barely able to crop out a construction site porta potty!

     Anyway I ended up going to Downtown Camera on Queen St.(my new favourite camera shop) where I purchased a few accessories for my new pseudo Leica and continued to roam about the downtown area taking pictures, poking about and just generally enjoying the day.

Look! A Toronto picture without construction equipment in it! Don't ever say I don't work hard for you folks!

If you are doing street photography with a Leica, you have to do some black and whites. It's a Cartier-Bresson bylaw or something!

On the train about to head home. Note that Union Station is under a state of PERPETUAL construction!

     This morning I awoke at my usual hour of too stupid for a day off, and, after the requisite two cups of coffee, took a stroll up to the dam near my home to see if there were any pictures that needed taking. I wanted to try out a polarizing filter that I purchased yesterday in the big city. For the photographically uninitiated, a polarizing filter is a piece of glass that fits over the front of the lens and reduces reflected light. It is useful for reducing the washed out look of a blue sky caused by reflected haze.

Without Polariser

With Polariser

                                                                                                                                                                I know that nowadays you can reproduce the effect digitally in post processing, but I'm kind of old school. I like to get it right in camera. I cut my teeth shooting Kodachrome in a fully manual mechanical camera.

     As I strolled further up the riverbank, I saw a beaver swimming about in the mill pond behind the dam. ( I know, the irony of seeing a beaver swimming near a man made dam is not lost on me either!) The Leica, for its many attributes, does not have a lens long enough for wildlife photography. I raced home (Or, more accurately, moseyed at a purposeful pace.) and got my Canon fitted with my longest zoom lens. By the time I got back there old Mr. Beaver had swum closer to the shore and I managed to get a few nice shots

.

     On the way home, I decided to do a little more wildlife photography. I snapped some pictures of the birds I encountered on the trail.

         What struck me as I meandered home with my little clutch of digital treasures, was the contrast I had experienced within the space of twenty-four hours. Yesterday in Toronto I felt the frenetic pace of the city and, for the time that I was there, I enjoyed it. I guess that the old saying is true, that a change is as good as a rest. Today I enjoyed the absolute calm of a morning spent by the river within a five minute walk from my home. When I finish this post I will go downtown to pick up a few sundries of life.I will probably share a chat and a smile with people who know me by name or at least know who I am. And hopefully I will remind myself for the ten thousandth time how truly lucky I am. Be it ever so humble.... well, you know the rest.

                                                 ...more later

Labour Day

     It's a grey cloudy September 1st as I write this post. Traditionally, I hand write an entry in my journal some time on the Labour Day weekend. This year I decided to share my thoughts  on the blog.

   

      Labour Day is, for me, a bittersweet time. It marks the end of the summer season. An end to the long languid days  and a return to the business of preparing for the shorter days and colder nights that lie ahead. Perhaps Summer exists as a kind of sweet dream in our consciousness and Labour Day marks an awakening to the reality that is. If the spirit of Summer is carefree, then the spirit of Autumn could possibly best be described as industrious. Tomorrow we return to the daily grind of school and work and give up days of seemingly limitless length and warmth.

     For children and students, it is the beginning of another school year. Tomorrow they will return to class wearing new clothes that are almost as stiff and crisp as the paper in their newly acquired note books. There will be the excitement of starting fresh while simultaneously renewing the acquaintance of their classmates For the adults in the working world, the dream of a long Summer holiday, if not already enjoyed, has been snatched from us for another year.

    
 If Labour Day signals an awakening from the sweet Summer dream, we should not mourn its passing. For a dream,  once dreamt, always exists, forever archived at the edge of our consciousness.
   
     So ends the Summer of 2014. 

                                        ...more later

      

    

The Lily

     So I went out to photograph a flower this morning. It was a tiger lily. Tiger lilies are not uncommon at this time of year in Southern Ontario. You can often see scads of them by the roadsides as you travel about. But this one was different simply because it was by itself. It stood alone amidst the tangle of underbrush along the riverbank, it's brilliant blossom a flame of bright orange against the sea of dark green that surrounded it.

     Last night I heard the news of the death of Robin Williams. It is considered to be a suicide.  His publicist said that he had been battling a deep depression and his struggles with addiction and substance abuse where common knowledge. Even still, the  news of his passing caught me, like the rest of the planet, off guard. Like the rest of my generation, I grew up watching his characters on television and film and experiencing his rapid fire  stand up comedy on late night shows.While on my way to photograph the lily, it occurred to me that, like the flower, there was a certain quality that made Williams stand out. If I had to distill it down to one thing, it would be his artistic integrity.

     His role as Mork from Ork outlandish though it was, was based on a simple concept. What if an alien came to earth and reacted to, and reflected back to us the absurdities of our modern existence? Only an entertainer with the comedic genius of Robin Williams could have pulled off that role. Even a role as zany and unbelievable as Mrs. Doubtfire was made almost plausible by yet another simple concept, the love and devotion a father has for his children. A concept with which Williams was very familiar.

     He brought the same integrity to his dramatic roles, eventually winning an Oscar for his role as Sean Maguire in Good Will Hunting. There was one thing you could always count on when you saw Williams in a movie, comedic or dramatic, it was going to be powerful! 

     Maybe it was that power which led to his demise. Maybe he felt things too deeply. Perhaps his true gift to us as an artist was that he portrayed the highs and lows of existence so we wouldn't have to experience them ourselves. 

      I went out this morning to photograph a lily. But the lily wasn't there.

      R.I.P. Mr. Williams.


                                                ...more later

          

Canada Day

     It's Canada Day. I'm enjoying my second cup of coffee as I write this post. I'm in the backyard of the little tumbledown duplex that I call home. I want to write about what it means to be a Canadian without this piece devolving into jingoism. The great attributes of this country have been written about at great length by scribes far more erudite and eloquent than I. 


     I guess that what I'm trying to get at is the essence of this nation. It is a beautiful place made all the more beautiful by the people who inhabit it. In this past year, I've had the pleasure of heading north on several camping trips to places like Manitoulin Island, Killarney and  Algonquin Park. I had the experience of hiking some trails that, while challenging to a 54 year old, out of shape curmudgeon,  led me to vistas that were
 breathtaking (both literally and figuratively) in their beauty.

                                                           Sunrise On Manitoulin



                                            View from Booth's Rock, Algonquin Park, Ont.



Sunset On George Lake, Killarney Provincial Park, Ont.



Georgian Bay, from George Island Trail, near Killarney, Ont.

 

     Ok, So much for the physical beauty of this place that we call our home and native land. It's almost too easy to post some pretty landscape pictures and call it a day. I think what really makes this place rock is the people. 
                                                                                                                                                                    In the past few weeks, I made some interesting observations regarding the political landscape of the nation. In Ontario, Kathleen Wynne won the election to become the first female and first openly gay Premier of the province. At no time during the election was her gender or sexual orientation an issue. She won despite the fact that the government she inherited from her predecessor was scandal plagued to the tune of billions of dollars. Her opponent, Tim Hudak, ran on a platform of reducing the government payroll by 100,000 jobs and shelling out more tax relief to big corporations in the vain hope that one million new jobs in the private sector will be created. That Mr. Hudak was soundly defeated speaks volumes about the nature of the people of Ontario and, I believe, the people of Canada as a whole.

     It's not all about the money. It's about being a kind, compassionate, open minded people. It's about caring for this land we all share. As Canadians, we don't sell out some of our fellow citizens in the slight hope that there will be more on the table for a few of us.
  
     Perhaps the true essence of this country is the spirit of inclusion and cooperation as opposed to the politics of divisiveness and greed. 

     I guess that what I really want to say is, while we have a beautiful country it's the people that make it great.
    

          Happy Canada Day everyone.


                                             ...more later

The Fox Den

     If you are a regular reader of this blog and read my last post. ( Hmm... last post. Sounds so final. How about previous post?  After all, my tag line at the end of these little blurbs is always ...more later.) you will know of my passion for outdoor photography. Of late I have been trying to photograph foxes at a den near my home. 

     In my previous post, ( Previous post... much better) I outlined how I had seen a fox at this den some time ago. ( May 6 to be exact. I just checked.) Since that time, despite several visits to the den site. I had seen nothing in the way of live foxes. I was beginning to think that the den had been abandoned.

     Last night, I went out for an evening walk and decided to check out the den site. I wasn't expecting to see anything in the way of a pointy snout and red bushy fur. Imagine my surprise when I found this fellow lounging at the entrance to the den.

     I managed to get a few shots before he retreated into the den. I decided to sit down and wait. After all, with all my visits to the den site, this time, I at least knew he was there. I didn't have to wait long for his reappearance.

     And, I was even more delighted when a second one appeared!

          They seemed to accept my presence quite calmly. By the end of my time with them, I felt less like I was shooting wildlife and more like a portrait photographer.



Family Portrait

      I was going to end this post with a sage homily like "Persistence pays off."  Or perhaps a discourse on the virtue of patience. But the reality is that I just want to share some pictures that I was lucky enough to take and an experience I enjoyed. I think that my friends, both human and vulpine understand.


                                            ...more later

    

Stop And Smell The Lilacs

     Spring has truly sprung here in Paris. ( Cue Ella Fitzgerald singing  " I Love Paris In The Springtime" ) As I write this post, I'm sitting at my ageing picnic table In my my woefully small backyard enjoying the birds singing and the morning sunshine. Thank the Is (a concept and expression I freely admit to stealing from my dear friend Otherkin) for the wonders of WiFi and the portability of a laptop.



My office this morning.



     I was up early this morning and, after the requisite two cups of coffee, went off on a little expedition in an effort to photograph foxes. There is a den dug into  a small gravel ridge a short hike from my home. About two weeks ago I managed to photograph a fox pup sitting at the entrance to the den. I was, at that time, on a jaunt to the local grocery store to acquire the necessities of life and the only camera that I had with me was my compact Canon G12 which has a zoom range woefully inadequate for wildlife photography. The resulting image, taken on a small sensor camera, has been heavily cropped in post, resulting in a shot where the sharpness and resolution is far from ideal.

      I've gone back to the den a few times since with a better camera fitted with a longer zoom lens. But, As luck would have it, I came home empty handed in the fox photo department. 

                                                                                                                                                            However that isn't to say that this morning wasn't enjoyable. Along the trail to the den site the lilacs are in full bloom. For about a one hundred yard stretch of the trail, the scent is almost intoxicating and the colours in the morning light were beautiful. I occurs to me that, as we bustle about in our daily lives, we should take a bit more time to enjoy the gifts that each season has to offer. In this case, a lilac scented morning.

                                                      

And, for the record, I did manage to get a picture of a fox!

                                                                                                                  

 ...more later

Those That Can, Should

    
     
     I want to address a comment which appeared on a Facebook post very recently. To wit "Photographic eye falls to peer pressure" Frankly I don't understand the comment. I asked for clarification of it in the comment list  which accompanied the post but, it seems none was forthcoming. Therefore I am left to respond to the comment with what I can only offer as conjecture as to it's meaning.

    To begin with. I don't profess to have a "photographic eye". I do have an eye. Two of them in fact, and perhaps some modest skill with a camera. I take pleasure in presenting what I believe to be the beauty and unique appeal of whatever aspect of life on this planet confronts me. I tend to not photograph the ugly or negative aspects of life. There is enough negativity and ugliness available on the newsfeeds of almost any media source in this "age of communication". I feel no compulsion to add to it.
  
     Furthermore, in regards to "peer pressure", In all honesty, I don't really feel any. I associate with many practitioners of the creative arts. In regards to photography, many of them posses vision, skills and equipment which are far superior to mine. There are also those who are only beginning their creative journey with whatever skills and wherewithal they command. I choose to exist in happy celebration of almost any and  all creative effort. If I can learn from those whose vision and capabilities are superior to mine, I will endeavour to do so in an effort to improve my own offerings. If anyone asks me for help or advice, I will happily share what knowledge and skills I have in as constructive a manner as  possible. I admire the imagery of many. I do admit to being a bit envious of those who present really brilliant work, but I try to channel those feelings into a positive effort to improve my own stuff. No peer pressure.They do what they do and I do what I do and maybe somewhere along the line we can learn something from one another. I have found that with some innate curiosity, and a willingness to share, I can exist in the midst of a  great big  creative family of humans who delight in presenting their perceptions of the beautiful world  we all share. 

     Maybe all of this is a bit too much of an overly optimistic view  of the creative experience in  the 21st century. Perhaps. But the alternative is a bleak one. There are the cynics who say that no one's life is as idyllic or great as they portray it on Facebook or other social media platforms and that is probably true in most cases. However if the best we can do is question the motives of anyone sharing anything in public media, then we might as well shut down the whole system. If individuals cannot share that which they find beautiful, interesting or meaningful then the whole concept of social media is a moot point. We might as well return to an existence of self centred survivalism  where only a select few are trusted to view the etchings scratched on the cave wall.

     It is far too easy to retreat and not participate or contribute to the life which exists around us. It is too easy to be critical or cynical without making any positive contribution to the Great All That Is. I don't profess to being a brilliant photographer, but people seem to like the images I share. I don't profess to being a great writer but people seem to enjoy my musings in this blog. If I can even marginally alter someone's perception of the world in a positive way, my limited  offerings are not wasted. If I feel any peer pressure at all it is to contribute something positive in the meanderings of my existence. To that end, what little peer pressure I may feel does not diminish my photographer's eye, (if I have such a thing). It enhances it.

                                                              ...more later

          

     

           
     
    

     

    

Return To South Bay... Or What I Did On My Summer Vacation

     A few years ago, I renewed my interest in photography with the purchase of a little Kodak digital camera from our local Canadian Tire store. I was going on vacation and wanted to take a camera just for family snapshots. At the time, I owned (and still do) a couple of film cameras that probably would have done the job. But film was getting harder to come by (come buy?) and the processing time is much longer than it used to be. Our local photo lab here in Paris now waits until they have a batch of them to make it worth their while putting fresh chemicals into their processor. What made me make the switch to digital was the fun I was having playing around with the camera on a cell phone that I had recently acquired at that time. So in  August of 2010, armed with my newly purchased Kodak C190, my son and I set off for the wilds of Northern Ontario to ride the Algoma Central Railway to the Agawa Canyon.

  Ok. That was 2010. What does it have to do with this year? Just this. In 2010, on our way to the Algoma Central Railway, we stopped at a little campground on South Bay on Manitoulin Island. Although kind of wide open, it was a nice spot. The stars that night were amazing. You know that you're in a good star gazing spot when the visible stars are packed so tightly together that you begin to understand why our galaxy is called the Milky Way. 

  The next morning I was treated to a beautiful sunrise. With the coffee pot gently burbling on the camp stove, I wandered down to the lake and managed to capture this memorable photograph.

      It was a stroke of luck really. While framing the sunrise with my little Kodak, the seagull dipped down and just touched the still waters at the edge of the bay. Anyone who knows me will recognise this image. It is the cover photo on my facebook page and also is the background image on my photographic business cards.

     This year, I decided that part of the itinerary of our summer adventure would include a return to South Bay on Manitoulin. I guess I just wanted to see if lightning could strike twice. 
     
     Just like 2010, we travelled up the Bruce Peninsula and camped overnight at Cypress Lake near Tobermory. The next day we poked about Tobermory for a bit before sailing over to Manitoulin Island aboard the Chi Cheemaun. It wasn't hard to find the campground. It is very near to where the ferry docks at South Baymouth. The campground looked pretty much the same but it was under new management. The older gentleman who was operating it on our last visit had sold it to a young couple. It wasn't quite as quiet as I remembered it. Perhaps it was the influence of the newer, younger owners but a few campsites down from ours, there seemed to be a fairly loud party going on with music blaring and loud conversation going on late into the night. By midnight their party had settled a bit and I managed to get some sleep. The stars weren't as spectacular as I remembered them either. Although it was a clear night, a very bright moon lightened the night sky enough to drastically reduce the effect of the starlight. Nice, but not as nice. "Oh well,"  I thought as I turned in for the night. " Maybe the old saying is true. The only constant is change."
     Or is it? The next morning I was up before the dawn. As I stumbled through the flap of our too small tent,  I was treated to this sight.  I couldn't believe it! A sunrise almost as beautiful as the last time we were here!

I quickly snapped a couple of images before firing up the camp stove and putting the morning coffee on. Equipped with much better camera gear (Although it doesn't seem to make much difference!)  and, later, a fresh cup of coffee,  I manged to capture the images seen below. 

 Lightning almost strikes twice! Although he didn't quite touch the water this time.

     Needless to say, I'm completely in love with Manitoulin Island. The sunrises alone are worth the price of admission! I've got a few more pictures of our summer travels but I'm still doing some editing. Stay tuned!

                                                           ...more later

Of Canada Day And Raspberries And Settlers And Gypsies

     Canada Day is drawing to a close as I write this post. I spent the day pretty much on my own. I had to work for most of the weekend but had Canada Day off as part of my normal work schedule. Because it was a working weekend for me, my son is at his mother's place and most of my friends are either working or have made other plans. Don't misunderstand, I don't propose to write a woe is me article about loneliness on National Holidays. Quite the opposite. I treasure my solitude almost as much as I treasure the company of friends. I often find that in solitude comes personal insight that reconnects me to the cosmic order of the universe.

     I had my first real taste of summer today as I wandered aimlessly back to the woefully small patch of grass and overgrown little garden which constitutes my back yard.  Six or seven years ago I had dug up a small garden patch along the fence line there and planted flowers as well as a patch of chives and a small patch of carrots. At the corner of my little garden plot I planted raspberry canes. With the exception of the past couple of years, I had done a pretty good job of tending my little garden. Of late, however, I have found that my interest in gardening, even at that minuscule a level, has diminished and my little plot has become terribly choked with weeds. The raspberry patch, however, is still producing and the first of the berries are ripening now. I sampled some of them today. 

     For many, the watermelon is the fruit that symbolises the sweet days of summer. For me, it is raspberries. We had a good sized patch of canes that grew in the backyard of my boyhood home. I can remember soaking my feet in the morning dew on the grass to pick a handful of them to put on my breakfast cereal. Later the same day, I might pick another handful to sprinkle over ice cream for an afternoon treat. All summer long that raspberry bush seemed to produce fruit endlessly. My mother would pick a basket of them and make raspberry jam and preserves, carefully measuring out the sugar and pectin and scalding the jam jars in a huge pot of boiling water to remove all impurities. Along with jams made with blueberries and other seasonal fruit. they would last well into the winter months.

     As I sampled the berries today, I was a little ashamed of myself for letting the raspberry patch become so overrun with weeds. I dug in and spent a good hour or more pulling weeds and stray vines. It seemed like the raspberry patch was rewarding my efforts, revealing more of it's fully ripened hidden gems as I went along. I know it's too late to dig up and plant the rest of my garden this year, but at least my raspberries will have a fighting chance! 

    I can never do any yard or garden work without thinking of my mother. Gardening was one of her passions and she took great  pride in her ability to provide an abundance of fresh fruit and home grown vegetables for her family. The daughter of a prairie farmer she grew up in Southern Manitoba during the depression when the ability to plant a garden was not a hobby skill but a survival tool. Even as a child  I was amazed by the amount of food that could be produced from a medium sized backyard garden. We had a root cellar in the basement of our house and our family didn't buy a bag of potatoes til well after Christmas. I guess to that extent my mom was a settler. Although she enjoyed travel, she was always happy to return home. For her, home was a place where she could put down roots both literally and figuratively and find comfort and refuge in a crazy world.

     My father on the other hand, embodied the spirit of the gypsy. He was a railwayman who literally made his living by travelling. At one point in his career he had enough seniority to take a regularly scheduled train run but refused the opportunity. He knew that he would get bored if he had to be on the same train everyday. He preferred to be on the spareboard where he was always on call to work any train or yard job on the line. In the too brief time that I knew him, I can't recall him ever being in one place for much more than a week at a time. As a child I learned the language of the railway spareboard. Four or five times out meant that he would probably be home for four or five days. Three times out meant he'd probably be home for a day or two. Two times out and he would be gone that night. Not that he didn't contribute to the home life of the family. On his days off, he would often bake large batches of cookies for us kids. Often he would spend the afternoon cooking a meal for the family that was a little more elaborate than the usual weekday fare. He took a measure of pride in his family and his crazy schedule was just a part of our life. If he had to be away for my mom's birthday or a special occasion a pot chrysanthemums (my mother's favourite flower) always appeared at our door. The local florist was a member of his lodge fraternity and one of his best friends! Even a man with the soul of a gypsy needs a place to call home. He knew it and so did my mother. Opposites  really do attract.

     So what does this all have to do with Canada Day? Just this. As Canadians we are all the sons and daughters of gypsies and settlers or at least only a few generations removed from them. Even the indigenous first nations people were largely a nomadic lot. This country has the second largest land mass on the planet. Even if you travel from the east coast to the west just turn around and head back. It's pretty much guaranteed that there's a lot of stuff you missed! This place is a paradise for the gypsy soul. And if your soul is predominately that of a settler, there is no better country on earth to settle down, raise a family and put down roots. Even if those roots only belong to some raspberry canes in the backyard of a rented house.

   Happy Canada Day!


                                                      ...more later. 



    

Outsourcing

     The people... united... will never be defeated! If this is true, then conversely, The people... divided... are like lambs before the slaughter of  any organisation with the will to exploit them.

     I was appalled on Sunday to hear  the story of Dave Moreau, slated to lose his I.T. job with The Royal Bank to a worker brought in from India to replace him. To add insult to injury, he was being required to train his replacement!  It seems that he is just one of 45 working Canadians being subjected to this indignity by a so-called Canadian corporation operating under a charter from our federal government.  In viewing a segment on this issue on CBC news tonight it would appear that other chartered banks are doing the same thing to varying degrees.

     What a difference a few days makes.  As of Thursday, the CEO of the Royal Bank had issued a public statement of apology. As a letter of apology it is pretty lame. On CTV's Canada AM Geoff Rowan of Ketchum Public Relations Canada said, " So would it be wrong for me to say blah blah blah? This is a typical lawyers letter that was written with the lawyers standing over top of the p.r. people."   It's  kind of telling that a guy in the business of spin doesn't buy the sincerity of this  little piece of corporate propaganda.
     
     So where are we to go from here? We Canadians are a pretty tolerant people. On the one hand,  part of me wants to say " Ok, the guy apologized ( lame as it was ) and the people effected are going to keep their jobs or get other jobs within the system. Let's just move on.

     But I can't.  It's not enough to push a bully away. A bully has to be taken down to the extent that he will seriously question his intentions if he tries to repeat his bad behaviour. This letter of apology, carefully worded and legally couched, is at best, a minor victory for the working people of this country. It is the height of arrogance to give a worker 90 days notice and then expect him to train the poor underpaid schlemiel who will replace him! This was the intent of a    financial institution in which Canadians have entrusted their savings and finances for over a century. This was the intent of a corporation that rakes in billions of profits every year operating under a charter granted to it by the government of the people of Canada. 
  
     This letter of apology is the best work of a corporate CEO who last year took home $12.6 million in salary, bonuses and stock options. I've seen better, more heartfelt letters written by schoolchildren!


                                        ...more later     

    

    

The Marathon

     A while back, a friend submitted a post to Facebook. He wrote,  " Supervisors are simply wardens of our time." I wanted to add, " Only if we allow them to be."

     Fridays can seem to take forever as we work away in anticipation of the weekend. As Thoreau so eloquently stated " The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." I think that  it ultimately comes down to the choices we make. If I find myself working at a job that provides little personal satisfaction or opportunity for growth, it seems incumbent upon me to make a careful analysis of my reasons for continuing with that job. The primary reason is usually pecuniary. The job provides me with enough money to afford the lifestyle I like or to finance whatever personal goals I have set for myself.

     " Find a job that you love and you'll never work a day in your life." That quote is attributed to Confucius although when he said it, I think the wise old philosopher could not have foreseen the demands of modern workplaces in a society which worships high productivity. The problem, it seems, is the near impossibility of finding a job that you love. To my mind, however, it's just a matter of perspective. 

     In my drinking days, a friend of mine and I were discussing our jobs in our favourite watering hole. He lamented that his " give a fuck factor" was pretty low. I responded that every job has it's "bullshit quotient." Right then and there we developed the Barker/ Boyd Formula of Employment Satisfaction which states that, " The give a fuck factor is inversely proportional to the bullshit quotient." ie. The more bullshit you put up with, the less you give a fuck.

   I have been fortunate. For the most part I have found a degree of satisfaction in almost every job that I have had. ( And they have been many and varied over the years.) I think that what has made the difference for me is primarily one of attitude. For that, I owe much thanks to some advice given to me by my Dad. The story goes like this.

     I guess I would have been about ten or eleven years old. I got into a dispute with my Mother over some household chores she had asked me to do. As a result I was summarily sent to my room to await punishment when my Dad got home. My Dad came home and, instead of meting out punishment, had a long talk with me about work. It went something like this.

Dad; You must think I've got a pretty good job eh?

Me; Yeah, you're a trainman. You get to ride on trains and travel all over the place.
.
Dad; True, but I also have to get up at four in the morning to catch my trains. I leave this house in total darkness without even getting to say goodbye to my family. Sometimes I'm gone for days and I'm not sure where I'll have to go or when I'll be back home. Sometimes in the winter I find myself hanging off a moving boxcar in the wind and the freezing cold and when I jump off the boxcar, I'm up to my waist in a snowdrift and I have to dig out a switch to put that boxcar onto a siding. I have to do this as fast as I can cause there's usually another train coming and we have to clear the main  track. In the summertime it's not much better cause I have to work when it's really hot or I have to work in the rain. The railroad doesn't care about the weather or how I'm feeling.  They just care about getting things done on time. If I don't do my work right, a train worth millions of dollars can get destroyed or, worse, people can get killed. Still think I've got a pretty good job?

Me; Well I guess your job is pretty hard.

Dad:  Work is work. Whether it's the job I do or the chores your mother asks you to do, put aside your personal feelings  about it and do the best job that you can. When you grow up, I don't care whether you're a ditch digger or a brain surgeon just do the best job that you can. Be a professional. Don't complain about it. Just do it.

    Sometimes when I'm having a particularly hectic day at work I remember my Dad and think,   " This is my railway."  It doesn't stop. It doesn't care about how I'm feeling. It just cares about getting things done as efficiently as possible. The trick is to rise to the challenge. Every job has it's challenges, even the most boring, mundane tasks. I've worked long nights in a factory putting product in boxes. The challenge then was just staying awake and alert enough to do the job well. Work is work. A challenge is a challenge.

    Any marathon runner will tell you that his biggest challenge is just to finish the race. Winning or placing in the top of your category is just icing on the cake. It's all about the attitude. When a marathon runner crosses the finish line, in the midst of the exhaustion you see on his face you will see something else. Satisfaction. He met the challenge. And given the opportunity he'll do it again. In the final analysis his achievement is  not much different from that of a successful brain surgery or even a ditch that  has been dug properly. The challenge has been met. The difficulty overcome. It's really just a matter of perspective.

                                          ...more later.