Seven Day Talk

Finished the 10k Fog Trot in Arnold's Cove

2011-08-15T13:00:00.001-04:00

First run since gettting pregnant with the baby; not bad for an old gal, and an even older gal; my 65 year old mother! We crossed the finish line together http://www.thepacket.ca/Latest-news/2011-08-11/article-2702661/Trotting-for-a-cause/1

A kindly Write Up

2011-08-13T06:25:00.002-04:00

http://www.blogistics.ca/2011/08/pam-pardy-ghent-a-candidate-for-the-people/

A Mention in The Post; The Seas are Changing

2011-08-07T17:58:00.000-04:00

http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/08/06/battlegrounds-canada-with-woman-leading-all-major-parties-newfoundlands-seas-are-changing/

Running for us all!

2011-07-26T07:36:00.000-04:00

http://www.thetelegram.com/Blog-Article/b/20362/Ghent-Enters-Politics

Meeker on Minister's/Government's Response to Igor Facts

2011-06-23T14:10:00.000-04:00

Includes my thoughts and experiences

http://www.thetelegram.com/Blog-Article/b/20181/Assessing-the-Response-to-Igor

Fishery; as ran in The Herald April 2011

2011-05-16T12:03:00.000-04:00

Dean Penton is passionate about the fishery, and if it were up to him, others would be as well. “I would like everyone and anyone who participates in the fishery or who cares about rural Newfoundland, our culture, heritage and the future of our children, to hear (this important) message; the fishery is Newfoundland and Labrador's greatest renewable resource,” he says. According to Penton, taking care of something so valuable is not solely the responsibility of lawmakers either.

　

“Every Newfoundlander and Labradorian needs to stake their claim as a steward of the Newfoundland and Labrador fishery and act on our rights by taking ownership of the resources“ he says.

Yet that hasn’t happened, not yet anyway. And it isn’t earth shattering news to hear that the fishery in this province is in trouble. Minister of Fisheries and Aquaculture Clyde Jackman recently release the results of a Fisheries MOU report that called for significant downsizing of the inshore fishing fleet and inshore enterprises. Though the report was rejected outright by Jackman, the questions that remain unanswered is; now what? And does anybody care?

With a Federal Election looming, The Herald wondered if the fishery was on the minds of candidates, and more importantly, voters, in this province. George Barrett is running for the Green Party in Labrador and he says the fishery is absolutely a huge concern. Many of the mega projects proposed for Labrador will have an impact on the fishery, he says. “Methyl Mercury poisoning (a concern for those living downstream from the Lower Churchill hydroelectric project) …will be harmful to the two communities who are on Lake Melville and Rigolet. Methyl Mercury poisoning will have a detrimental effect on the livelihood of those fishers,” he says.

Ryan Cleary is running for the New Democratic Party in the riding of St. John’s South-Mount Pearl. He says “absolutely,’ the fishery is on the minds of voters. “Everyone is concerned about the future of this province. What will life be like for us and our children after oil and gas? We have to prepare for the day after those high oil revenues dry up. What will our economy be based on then? If we don’t prepare our basic industry; the fishery, for that time, then we will have nothing once the oil is gone,” he says. Cleary talks of meeting one fisherman, a man named Paul Critch, whose 60-foot boat was tied up at Prosser’s Rock boat basin in St. John’s harbour. Critch, a 5th generation fisherman, had named his boat the Chelsea and Emily, after his two daughters. “He told me that after his second daughter was born his father said, ‘Thank God.’ Thank God she wasn’t a boy, because a grandson would have to go into the fishery. Let me tell you, as a father of two son’s myself, that breaks my heart,” he says.

Cleary says that even those who aren’t employed the fishery, those who are doing ’quite well, thank-you,’ care about the future of this provinces’ fishery. “Those who are doing well have the luxury of thinking about the future. They tell me our rural engine has sputtered, and they want to see it started up again,” he says. Cleary says an inquiry into the fishery is the answer, in fact, a commitment from the NDP to support such an inquiry was the only reason he agreed to run this time around. “An inquiry would take the bull by the horns, so to speak. It’s time for a change. It’s time to bring the fishery back, the fighting Newfoundlander in me says it’s time to revive the fishery.”

　

It seems the fishery is an issue all candidates are hearing about. Conservative candidate Fabian Manning, running in the riding of Avalon, says the fishey is on the minds of voters this election. “Strengthening the fishery is one of the main issues that I hear about as I go door to door. The fishery has served as a vital resource for the people of Avalon for centuries and having grown up in a fishing community myself, I share many of their concerns,” he says.

Manning says his political history includes taking a strong stance for the people in the fishing industry during the Raw Material Sharing (RMS) dispute. If elected, he says he would be committed to delivering on all of the issues that matter, including the fishery. “A re-elected Conservative Government will ensure that our fish harvesters get fair access in quota decisions and we have instituted tax measures to make enterprises more profitable. I am also committed to ensuring that the Small Craft Harbours in the riding are well maintained, the Conservative Party's policy platform includes an additional $40 million to do just that,” he says.

Of course, Manning also stresses that someone from this province needs to be sitting in the government caucus. That, he says, is the only way that any promise will be delivered upon. “Our voice needs to be heard,” he says.

“ On May 2nd, voters will have a clear choice between a strong, stable Conservative government or a reckless coalition led by Ignatieff’s Liberals, with the support of the NDP and the Bloc separatists,” he concludes.

　

Liberal Judy Foote is running for re-election in the riding of Random-Burin-St George’s. Since being elected in 2008, she has been vocal about the fishery and its importance to the people of Newfoundland and Labrador. She often encountered questions regarding the state of the fishery on a daily basis.

“People are always talking about the fishery in Random-Burin-St. George's because the majority of the riding is comprised of fishing communities that settled along the coastline specifically to prosecute the fishery,” she says.

Foote says sometimes the lines between federal and provincial responsibility can be blurry, but she has always tackled any issue presented to her. “I hear all manner of concerns including those for which the federal government is responsible including total allowable catch, licensing of individual fishers, species size limits, fishing seasons, international enforcement of fishing limits and maintaining marine safety.”

There are 180 communities in Random-Burin-St. George's and Foote says knocking on that many doors is impossible in a 36 day campaign. Instead, she goes where people congregate; in stores, post offices, and especially on wharves. “This time of the year people are getting their lobster pots ready for the season so it is an opportunity to have a chat with them whenever you see them doing so. “

Foote says that at meetings designed for other purposes, she usually ends up with something fishery related on her ‘to do’ list. At a meeting regarding fireman one volunteer, who was also a fisherman, mentioned how the timing of the lobster season was an issue. “The experience was that the season was opening a week too early based on the catches of previous seasons,” she says. The request had gone into the Department of Fisheries and Oceans but the fishers had not heard back and the season was scheduled to open the following day. A response was needed as soon as possible. “A call was made on my behalf to the department to impress on those making the decision the importance of doing so quickly so the fishermen would know the decision one way or the other. The department made the right decision and the opening was postponed by a week,” she says.

The abundance of seals is another issue. In Francois, fishers complained about grey seals ‘popping up around their boats’ as they set their nets. Later, the fish would be gone from the nets, only the sculpins remained. “There is a real fear that unless there is something done about the increasing seal population the cod fishery will never rebound because there is no natural predator to keep the seal population in check.”

Bottom line; the fishery is always on the her radar.

“The fishery can and should remain the industry that is the backbone of the province's economy because it is a renewable resource and needs to treated with respect in order to remain viable.”

　

For Penton, any conversation about the fishery is a good conversation, even if it is ‘only’ politicians looking to get elected.

　

The fishery, he says, is a concern for all levels of government. But it’s also one the general population needs to focus on.

　

Penton, who is involved with the advocacy group Community Linkages, says that while he might currently live in Portugal Cove, he still holds the same values he had while growing up in Joe Batt’s Arm. Penton is currently having a trap skiff built so he can ’practice and promote his heritage.’ He also is the proud owner of a fishing stage he is rebuilding in his spare time. His grandfather was a fisherman and Penton says he’d go into the trade today if he thought he could earn a living at it.

That he and others can’t is a tragedy, he says. “The fishery and rural Newfoundland has always been sustainable, except when Canada got involved 62 years ago. Families used to have 12-14 children, all surviving on the cod fishery in isolated coastal communities. Today the regulations on the fisheries represent more of an annihilation of people and a genocide attack of our culture. Our fisheries should be open and free occupations, not the industry that Canada forces upon us; (the federal government‘s approach is) tightly regulated, unmanageable and unsustainable,” he says.

So what can be done? A return to old values would be a start, says Penton, values that foster the flourishing of rural communities.

“We need to honour the principles that shaped Newfoundland and Labrador as a nation, and minimize the obstructions that prevent us from participating in our cultural heritage at all levels. The massive scale of the encroachment of federal policies and regulations on our natural resources and our born rights to its benefits is undoubtedly something we all need to consider as inappropriate and unacceptable,” he says.

Penton says allowing some ‘self-regulation of the inshore fishery,’ is appropriate, as those fishers are the ones who have an intimate knowledge of the sea they fish. That knowledge makes them the best fish resources.

　

“As the primary stakeholders of our fishery resources, citizens need to come together and raise awareness on the issues and develop positive ways to address the barriers by playing a role in the success and access to the benefits of our great natural resource; the fishery.”

Penton believes sustainable fishery operations are possible. Cooperative fishery models, like the one on Fogo Island, can be successful. But there is more.

　

“We also need to request that our province demand the removal of the regulations and the title of recreational and food fishery, in support of the title and regulations for a ‘Heritage Fishery.‘ We need to request our province ensure that our right to fish in our coastal communities will not be licensed by Ottawa.”

So, this election is as good a time as any to think about the future of the fishery in this province, and, bottom line, we have something worth protecting for so many reasons, he says.

　

“Beyond the economic benefits, the fishery gives life to our rural communities, it is the fabric of our heritage. For over 500 years our province has relied upon the sea, and the people dependent on the fishery have a cultural and socio-economic right to its resources. it's not just a privilege. Harvesting (fishing) of our marine environment resources is our basic right, fundamental to the social, cultural and economic development well being of the people and rural communities of Newfoundland and Labrador; it is necessary for the development and maintenance of our life, values, health, economy, literature, language, arts, customs and traditions. Therefore we need to protect this relationship.”

http://communitylinkages.ca/DiscussionPaper.html

Work Away NL Quarterly

2011-05-16T10:54:00.000-04:00

http://www.newfoundlandquarterly.ca/online439.php

On CBC's Connect with Mark Kelley

2011-04-05T04:18:00.000-04:00

Mark visits Newfoundland and we have a wee chat about politics http://www.cbc.ca/connect/

Hr Mille Loyal Orange Lodge 160 Turns 100

2011-03-18T20:25:00.000-04:00

http://www.cbc.ca/video/#/News/Canada/NL/Web%20Exclusive/ID=1848758113

Take Care Down There

2011-03-03T07:15:00.000-05:00

http://www.cbc.ca/video/#/News/Local_News/NL/1317907201/ID=1816098414

Once the ads load, grab the button on the slider and advance to 32:00 into the show to see my commentary on talking to your kid about sex. Stars Brody..who else

The Garnish Crew React

2011-02-19T15:52:00.000-05:00

http://www.cbc.ca/nl/features/thisoldtown/#socialcomments

10 reasons to Love Rural NL this Valentines Day

2011-02-06T16:48:00.000-05:00

When we moved back to rural Newfoundland from Ontario in 2003; we being a husband, a five year old, two dogs, one cat, and one very determined-to-live goldfish, I never dreamed we’d still be there come 2011.

I knew we’d love aspects of rural living; the peaceful remoteness of the place, the friendly people, and that we’d enjoy a more relaxed way of life. But I also thought the other side of those things; little access to things city-dwellers come to rely on, like quick coffees and meals you don’t need to cook, and that having people knowing too much about our business, would grate on the nerves after a while. Add to that the fact that being too relaxed can sometimes leave one feeling somewhat mush-brained, and you have one very temporary rural-lifestyle plan.

But that isn’t the way things have turned out.

So, why do we stay? On this Valentine’s Day, let me count the ways.

#1; It Feels Like Home.

When I left St, John’s for Ottawa in 1990, the city still had something of a small town feel to it. It was impossible to go into a George Street bar and not know at least half the people there. 13 years later, just shortly after we returned, my husband and I went downtown and didn’t run into a single person we knew. The urban landscape had changed as well. There were roads that confused us, businesses that had moved, and traffic lights where none had been before. But in rural areas we visited, things were exactly as they had always been. Roads was still bad in the places they had always been bad in, Many homes were still standing (and most of them were still white) and people still acted the way they did back in the day. How comforting is that?

　

#2; It’s Still Safe Here

Well, crime in Newfoundland and Labrador isn’t what it used to be, or it doesn’t seem that way. Tune into NTV News on any given evening and you’ll grasp that pretty quickly. But many rural communities still feel like safe havens from savage storms in that respect. People still ‘button’ doors from the outside when they’re away. No such thing as a dead bolt around places like this. And while kids often own the streets after dark, no one has any fear of anything worse than being the victim of a door-knocking prank.

　

#3; Where Everybody Knows Your Name.

When you live in a rural community, roots run deep, and everyone knows whose who and more than that, they know who owns ya. Sure, sometimes that might be annoying, but for the most part it’s charming. Social Networking sites might make people-connecting easier for many, but even before Facebook status updates and who-are- you- related- to apps, rural livyers knew what you were at and who to report it to.

#4; The Scenery.

Need I say more?

#5; It’s Not What You Can’t Do, It’s What You Can Do.

Sure, living remotely can mean doing without, but it also means living life to the fullest in the simplest of ways. Feel like blueberry pie? Go pick some not far from your front door. Go treasure hunting on an isolated beach anytime you feel like it. Bonfires, nature walks, wharf-side chats, and post-office pow-wows are activities that often happen at random and they cost no money.

　

#6; Appreciate What You Get When You Get It

O.k, so you can’t have a take-out coffee every time you want one, but when you do manage to get your hands on one, it’s taste so darn good! And taking-out (or eating in) feels like a real treat when the only other option is your own stove or microwave oven. Admit it folks, when a drive-thru meal is as easy as, well, just driving through, there really isn’t much pleasure in that, is there? But when such a meal means driving an hour before driving through, well, somehow it just tastes better. And, when going to a movie becomes a rarity, it also becomes a real treat. What many urban dwellers consider an everyday thing become an event to be treasured by the entire family when traveling and planning comes into play.

#7; Sometimes ‘Just Because’ Is Enough

When you live in a rural setting it’s almost like living in your own time zone. It’s five o’clock somewhere, right? So why not relax and have a drink and a yarn with a neighbour. There is always some reason to celebrate something; it snowed, or it didn’t snow, someone’s husband just came back from working away, or another’s just left for a great-paying job out west after a winter at home. And sometimes getting together to celebrate; with food and lively conversation, just because your can is reason enough.

#8; Someone Is Always Watching.

Now, this reason is only a plus when you have small children, otherwise it can be downright annoying. But lets face it, having extra eyes on your kid is always a good thing. Kids in rural places can’t get away with much without mom, dad, nan or pop finding out. Even if no one tattles, someone is always ready, willing and able to lecture some youngster about something. Rural kids learn early; best mind, or else!

#9; The Fishery Is The Heart And Soul

People in rural areas still believe in the fishery. While it’s true some youth still leave for so-called greener pastures, (or concrete jungles, whatever the case may be) others are entering the fishery with enthusiasm. And after the recent Auditor General report, they actually might be on to something. Because so many who live in rural regions have to leave, if only temporarily, to make fortunes away from the outports, the fishery is still an alternative for those who want to stay put.

#10: Because You Can

Outports have survived. Even many thought extinct during resettlement have been brought to life by cabin enthusiasts and by seasonal workers looking for a quaint, peaceful place to stay. When I left Newfoundland in 1990, I, and many of my generation, thought there would never ever be an outport home to return to. Thank goodness we were all wrong.

All About The Boob

2011-02-06T16:46:00.002-05:00

http://www.cbc.ca/nl/theword/2011/02/04/-download-flash-player-to/

Memories

2010-11-25T05:58:00.000-05:00

http://www.downhomelife.com/article.php?id=1106

Bright Light in a Dark Place

2010-11-25T05:57:00.000-05:00

http://www.downhomelife.com/slideshow6.php?cat=174

Loosing our Funny Bone

2010-11-25T04:17:00.003-05:00

http://www.nationalpost.com/Newfoundland+joking+over/3880074/story.html

Saying it as it is

2010-11-24T07:13:00.000-05:00

http://www.thetelegram.com/Blog-Article/b/11957/School-Yard-Bully

From Meeker's Blog

2010-11-24T07:11:00.002-05:00

http://www.thetelegram.com/Blog-Article/b/11952/The-Right-Kind

22 Minutes Skit

2010-11-15T04:34:00.000-05:00

Not a Small Man

Snook; Armed with a Tape Measure

2010-11-11T14:12:00.000-05:00

http://ntv.ca/video/?p=8079

CBC Commentary; Sometimes, It's What You Can't See That Matters

2010-11-11T13:59:00.000-05:00

http://www.cbc.ca/nl/blogs/whatodds/pam-pardy-ghent/

CBC Commentary

2010-10-27T04:44:00.002-04:00

http://www.cbc.ca/nl/blogs/whatodds/pam-pardy-ghent/

The Life (and Death) of a Visitor

2010-03-30T09:12:00.000-04:00

Many residents of Harbour Mille, myself included, were on a rollercoaster ride of emotions last week. Some of us are still trying to recover from having the cruelties of nature thrust right in our faces. We learned a harsh lesson. Nature can be beautiful and leave us in awe of its magic, but it can also be cruel and difficult to look at. We also learned that toughened hunters and fishers can still have a soft sport for the vulnerable and needy in nature.

　

Despite capturing the hearts of an entire region, a baby seal that was born on the community wharf in the outport community of Harbour Mille has died. Sometime in the early morning hours of March 21st, a female hooded seal gave birth, or whelped as it is called in the seal world, to a pup. The pup, known as a blueback for the slate-blue colour across the top of its body, was an instant hit.

That morning a friend of mine waved me down just as I was backing out of my driveway. ‘You have to have a look,’ she told me excitedly, adding that I wouldn’t believe it unless I saw it for myself. My 13 year-old son and I took a gander and were instantly in awe. What an amazing sight. There, on our community wharf, was a mother seal, spotted in colour (so much so that my son and I immediately started referring to it as a leopard seal though we later found out that wasn’t her species at all) lying peacefully next to this little cream colored infant. Though we remained at what we considered a respectable distance, we were still close enough to see the umbilical cord was still attached to the baby. Momma seal looked up at us but made no attempt to prevent us from gazing as she nursed her pup.

We took a few pictures and left, figuring the pair would make our local floating dock their home for at least a few more days before once again heading for less public and more peaceful surroundings.

While I later discovered that it wasn’t unusual for a hooded seal to give birth on land, what was odd was her choice of a birthplace and nursery. Our usually busy wharf was made even busier because an extension to the floating dock was underway at the time. While most were respectful of momma and baby, work on the wharf still went ahead as planned. The pair of visiting mammals seemed to take it all in stride. While we at first thought momma seal’s demeanor was simply due to the exhaustion of giving birth, there were signs that things were not as they should be with this wild creature.

As the days past more and more people began showing up to take pictures of the pair and little by little visitors stopped zooming in with their camera lenses and simply got closer to the subjects of their curiosity. The fact that mother seal was not protesting this invasion should have caused more concern that it did.

Elderly men from our community stood watch when local young ones were out and about, often driving idle and curious boys away with little more than a stern look. They knew momma seal wasn’t acting quite right as she didn’t appear able to threaten anyone who came too close.

Still, most of us continued to celebrate the miracle of life that was right before our eyes. My son and I, using binoculars from our living room window, watched often throughout the day. The first thing I did every morning and the last thing I did each night was look to see if the pair were still there. I celebrated the sight, still, I also knew I would welcome the day when they were gone. I had pictured in my head the two going off into the sunset to finish their seal lives in the ocean, though I knew the reality was that one day baby would be on his or her own.

Hooded seal pups are about three feet long at birth and weigh about 24 kilograms (53 lb) at birth. They are usually born on the ice from mid-March to early April and they come into this world with a well-developed blubber layer. One of the fascinating parts of this tale is that the nursing of the hooded seal pup lasts for only around four days, the shortest lactation period of any mammal. While it may only be a short nursing period the pup will double in size and have enough fat to live off for a month before it begins to eat sold food. We witnessed our pup benefit from those first few days of fatty milk as it literally seemed to grow in front of our eyes. Hooded seal milk has an unusually high fat content of 60%.

Still, at least one local resident started to worry that the adult seal wasn’t nursing her baby. She first went down Sunday afternoon, taking her children with her to take some memorable photos. As she and her children approached the mammal pair she grew more concerned, saying that the mother should have done more than simply open one eye.

On the three trips she made down to the wharf on Sunday she never once saw the mother seal turn over to allow her pup to nurse. She thought about doing something, but she wasn’t sure what could be done.

Early the next morning, as divers showed up to complete the instillation of the newest section of dock, the mother died. Workers and residents rolled the dead seal over so the baby could get at the last of the milk. The pup nursed savagely.

DFO were notified. Something had to be done to help this baby seal who didn’t stray far from its mothers side, nursing (or trying to) from an unresponsive mother.

DFO officials visited the community but decided that baby would be comforted for one more night next to its mother. They would come again on Thursday, they said, after the storm forecasted for Wednesday was over.

By Wednesday morning it was clear something had to be done as soon as possible. The seal pup appeared smaller and sucked more desperately from its mother. The fear was that this creature, whom we were all growing attached to, would starve to death in front of our eyes. There was nothing anyone could do locally.

Hooded seal pups, after they are nursed for their initial four days, are then set off on their own to rest. They live off their accumulated fat for a month until their system can handle sold food then, then, when hungry, they set off into the ocean in search of food. Feeding the infant seal milk or kippers (as some proposed to do) would have done more harm than good. The only hope we had was that baby had nursed long enough from its mother.

DFO officials, summoned by locals and media alike, decided not to wait the extra day. Arrived in the worst of the ice storm that Wednesday, they gently placed the pup in a cage and placed it in the back of their truck. Mother was also going along for the ride. The pair would be traveling to St. John’s where the adult seal would be analyzed to determine what killed her. Baby would be checked over and its health and viability determined.

We were given hope when we learned that baby was cooperative, but feisty, and were comforted when told that the pup, like many traveling infants, had slept on the way into St. John’s.

But the next day brought tragic news. Hooded seal pups at the five day mark should weight around 40 kilograms. Our seal was only 27. There was no way it could survive for the month it would take for its system to be able to tolerate a regular seal diet.

The pup we had tried so hard to save was euthanized.

While many residents feel the tragedy of the situation they also accept that the right thing was done. No one here had the heart to watch a seal pup starve to death in front of our eyes, and we certainly wouldn’t want it to starve slowly to death anywhere else. If the pup couldn’t make it in the wild, then putting it to sleep was the right thing to do. We were just all hoping for a happier end to this story.

IN THE DARK

2010-02-06T04:16:00.000-05:00

RCMP officials contacted "UFO" eye witnesses yesterday and indicated that the case is now closed. They were not able to either confirm or deny that the object was or was not a missile. Possible, but They just don't know, they say.

Remember that one eye witness had been told that the object was indeed a missile, that the military were made aware of the situation and that it would be "a one time only thing." They were also told the missile had come from the French. Interestingly enough, days later the French did indeed fire a missile. Coincidence? Possible, but unlikely.

Yours truly actually opened the UFO file with the Marystown RCMP (my son was also a witness) but because I had ties to the media I was told to go elsewhere. Seems this 'missile incident' is still with the Department of Cover-Our-Arse. I found it comical that the first release to come from the DOCOA (a.k.a. Department of Public Safety) said something along the lines of; we don't think this was anything, but if it was anything no one was ever in any danger.

Even my 18 month old said WTF to that one.

OBJECT NOT HOBBY ROCKET

2010-02-06T04:08:00.000-05:00

Pictures of Patrick Farrell doing his thing; but, he insists, 'his thing' was not what was witnessed in the sky above Harbour Mille

'NUFF SAID? HARDLY

2010-02-06T04:03:00.000-05:00

Residents of a Harbour Mille, a coastal community on the south coast, are still left to wonder if several “huge, oversized bullet” shaped objects seen soaring through the sky on a Monday evening were missiles. But there is another concern as well.

Emmy Pardy, one of the eye witnesses who observed the objects as they flew through the sky on Monday January 25th, says that not knowing what the objects were is one thing, but dealing with “so called experts,“ who claim they know, is quite another.

Since the sighting and the publicity that has surround it, many theories of what the objects might have been have been raised. According to Pardy, two of those theories are particular upsetting.

“I heard this guy on the news saying that I must have seen planes. He had this big, fancy, explanation, too. Fine enough, but I‘ve seen planes before. I’ve seen them at sunset before. That three in a row would all look like rockets and not planes is ridiculous. Remember, I had my binoculars out. I had a good view. They look like bullets,” she says.

Emmy stresses that she and the other two witnesses; Darlene Stewart who captured the now well-known photos, and Darlene’s partner Hubert Dominaux, all watched each of the three objects for almost ten minutes each.

“You would think in that time that the conditions would change somewhat and if they were planes we would see that at some point,” she says.

Pardy is also upset with talk that the area is frequented by amateur rocket enthusiasts. “I’ve lived here all my life and that’s the first time I’ve heard of that one, though I think I know where that rumour started from,” she says.

Patrick Farrell, a licensed pyrotechnician and a high level commercial fireworks supervisor level two, married a girl from the area. While the couple and their two children live in Sunnyside, they do visit the region from time to time.

Farrell says he has worked with all types of propellants and he was, as a child, a model rocket enthusiast. “I built my own rockets and developed my own rocket fuels. I also used commercial solid rocket fuel disposable engines and have owned various liquid fuel engines,” he say.So, he would consider himself, “somewhat of an expert on model rockets,” because he experimented on them for many years.

And he was in Harbour Mille that day; but only in the morning. The rockets were seen in the sky around five in the evening.

“Unfortunately we left that morning to go back to Sunnyside as I was scheduled to workin Clarenville that same evening. So to clear up anyone thinking that it was me doing some test firing in the area, no, I was not there at the time, but I really wish I was,” he says.

Patrick says he knows of no other model rocket enthusiasts that reside in that area, and because of his local fireworks experiences, he’s sure he would have heard of it if there were. Has he ever seen anything like what was in the picture before in the skies over Harour Mille? Never, he says. Neither has anyone he knows. So what does he think the object is? Patrick says he is more comfortable focusing on what the object isn’t.

“I have studied those pictures taken at Harbour Mille for a long time and with the angle and obvious size of that object and (for the eye witnesses) to be able to watch it for an extended period of time, it is obviously not a model rocket and I really do not know why the Prime Minister’s Office would ever have made such a statement,” he says.

Farrell goes on to explain that a model rocket, even the larger, more elaborate ones, will last well less than a minute in the sky. “To get a picture of one you would need to be very close and would have to use a special high speed camera. Even with that said, you still would not get anything even close to the picture that was taken the other night,” he says.

What about the airplane theory? Or that the object was a high flying jet? Farrell laughs. Not likely, he says. “Did they even see the pictures? What are the chances that three jets were flying at an angle where you couldn’t see their wings or tail? I would say it was impossible to have all three of these things flying at the same angle like that. No, not a chance,” he says.

When pressed, Farrell weighs in on the missile theory. “My opinion, from the pictures I have looked at and from the number of witnesses and their similar accounts of what they saw, I would have to say it was definitely a missile test. And judging from how close it was to our Island, something went wrong. It was much too close to land,” he says.

Farrell knows the eye witnesses quite well, and he feels bad for the pressure they are under. It’s difficult being doubted and teased, he says, referring to comments made recently by Peter Mackay regarding putting a landing strip for UFO’s in Harbour Mille.

“I just hope one day the truth will come out as the good people of this province deserve to hear the truth about this. It is obvious to the people of this town what this actually was and I would like to hear the truth about it from an official statement,” he says. Pardy agrees, offering that all these alternative theories are hurting the odds of the truth ever being uncovered. “With the way everyone is being so quiet on what it actually was and so vocal on everything that we know it wasn’t it makes you wonder,” she says.

In the meantime, Judy Foote, MP for Random-Burin-St. George's, says she is on this. She also stated in an email that she acknowledged rumours on this a “rampant.” She is, she says, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. Foote is calling for the RCMP file to be made public.
　
Pardy, who claims she was originally told by the RCMP that the objects were missiles launched by the French, says she is in support of anything that’s gets the truth out there. While she says she is frustrated, she is also optimistic. Says Pardy; “I think the truth will come out one day. But for now, this is all one big cover up.”

2010-02-02T06:25:00.000-05:00

New Harbour Mille Sign?

Hr Mille picture taken by Emmy Pardy, the sign came from Karen Pike-Magill

WHAT GOES UP MUST COME DOWN

2010-02-02T04:58:00.000-05:00

http://www.vocm.com/newsarticle.asp?mn=2&id=4019&latest=1

A resident of Point Lance on the Cape Shore is wondering what may have caused a loud explosion heard throughout the community last Monday night. William Careen tells VOCM News it was about 7 or 7:30 when he heard a "big bang". He says his neighbours heard the same thing. Careen says he didn't think much of it, until word started to spread about the rocket-like objects seen in the sky over the Burin Peninsula that same Monday evening. Careen says as far as he is aware, there was no blasting activity taking place in or near the community at the time.
The Prime Minister's Office has dismissed the rocket sighting, speculating that there are a lot of model rocket enthusiasts in the area. In St. John's last week, Defense Minsiter Peter MacKay acknowledged that despite their best efforts, they cannot figure out what the missile or rocket-like objects were, but has assured the public they shouldn't be of concern.
A Finnish UFO researcher meanwhile says he believes the pictures captured of the object in the sky over the Burin Peninsula last week was a jetliner and its contrail, which appears like flame in the setting sun.

WHISTLE BLOWN ON MISSILE?

2010-02-02T04:48:00.000-05:00

There are now news reports out of France that the French Armament Procurement Agency carried out test firing of a M51 ballistic missile on January 27th. This was, reports say, the forth such test and this particular missile was launched by the “Le Terrible” submarine. While there is yet no official word indicating that any of the three other tests conducted using the M51 could have been what the residents of Harbour Millle witnessed flying across the sky on Monday evening, there is speculation. Witness who saw the three missile-like U.F.O’s say that this explanation makes sense, though it certainly brings them no great relief. “Why can’t they just say if this is what it was or wasn’t? Why does the news have to come off the internet? This should be straight forward. A yes it is or a no it isn’t,” Darlene says.
If this is indeed what was seen in Burin Peninsula skies then this isn’t the first time French missile testing has created a stir in this province. In 2007 then Canadian Transportation Minister Lawrence Cannon created waves when he indicated that such missile testing by the French would create no safety threat to air travelers or residence of Canada. He was referring specifically to a missile test the French had conducted in November of 2006 and while he dismissed those who said such testing put ships and aircraft in danger, notes released under the Freedom of Information Act revealed otherwise. The notes were written by then Defense Minister Gordon O’Connor and he expressed concerns. Besides the possibility of debris falling into the waters of the North Atlantic, he questioned if there could also be an economic impact if air traffic controllers in Gander had to divert air traffic. The testing had been conducted without incident, however the incident troubled many Newfoundland residents at the time. With this latest missile sighting, and with no official word forthcoming, residents are left to wonder and speculate.
Darlene expressed the concern best with this words; “Makes you wonder what happens in our skies on days when it isn’t clear, or at night when you can’t see anything. I guess what they say is true; we really don’t know what’s out there, do we?”

COVER H'UP

2010-02-02T04:44:00.000-05:00

A Harbour Mille woman who was initially told by the R.C.M.P that the U.F.O. she and another resident spotted near that community Monday evening was a test missile fired from the French island of St- Pierre and Miquelon is now left wondering which is the biggest mystery; the U.F.O or the explanation from authorities that have followed the sighting.
At around five p.m. on January 25th, Emmy Pardy and Darlene Stewart both saw what appeared to be three missiles flying across the sky; at about five minute intervals, one after the other. Stewart, used to taking sunset shots at that time of day, grabbed her camera and took three photographs of the mysterious object. Pardy opted for a pair of binoculars and moved outside to her patio for a better view.
D.F.O officials and the R.C.M.P. were notified and supplied with a copy of Stewart’s pictures. An investigation was launched. Pardy says that late on Tuesday evening R.C.M.P Cst. Mortimer reached her by phone and informed her that the objects were indeed missiles and that they had been test fired by the army stationed at the French Island of St-Pierre. Follow up calls made by The Telegram to the R.C.M.P detachment in Marystown to confirm that information were met with denials and claims that there were no missiles fired from St-Pierre. Sgt. Edgecombe, also with the Marystown detachment, stated that the R.C.M.P had no official confirmation on what the objects were and that the Department of National Defense should be contacted for more information. When informed that D.N.D officials were referring inquiries back to them, Sgt. Edgecombe wasn’t impressed. ”If missiles were being fired on Canada then that has nothing to do with the R.C.M.P. detachment in Marystown or anywhere,” an obviously frustrated Edgecombe said when asked for further comment.
According to Edgecombe, the R.C.M.P did their due diligence by traveling to the community and interviewing witnesses. Their involvement should end there, he says. “Yes, from the pictures it does look like missiles but there is a danger in sending out that information. No one told anyone officially that this was a case of missiles being fired from St-Pierre or anywhere because we just don‘t know officially what this was,” he says.
Stewart says she doesn’t care what anyone says, she knows what she saw; and the objects looked like missiles to her.
“It was the most spectacular, yet the most terrifying thing I have ever seen. The objects looked like they may have initially come from the ocean, like perhaps from a submarine, but I couldn‘t really say,” says Stewart, adding that she hasn’t had a restful nights sleep since the sighting. “I’m terrified and still shaking just talking about this again.”
Pardy, who has spent her entire life in the seaside community of Hr. Mille, says has been left “stunned,” by the experience. Says Pardy; “I’ve never seen anything like it before. To me, yes, it did seem like it was coming from the ocean, traveling out over the bay like it was shot from somewhere either in the ocean or on it.”
When informed of the latest R.C.M.P stance Pardy was not impressed.
“This is insane. First I saw this U.F.O in the sky and didn’t know but it was E.T. come home and then I was told that it was a test missile fired by the army in St-Pierre and then I find out that now that their saying that’s not what it was at all, well, if that wasn‘t what it was then someone needs to tell me what it was for real this time,” she says.
Pardy placed another call to Cst. Mortimer who she says again confirmed for her that the object was a missile. “He told me, yes, it was a missile and that the military was made aware of this, but I don’t know and he wouldn’t say if they were made aware of the situation before the missiles were shot off or after.” Pardy claims she was also told that no other information would be released at this time and that the information she was told has not been officially released.
Stewart, when informed of the latest developments, began to shake with frustration, anger, and fear. She says that if she didn’t have the proof, even she would begin questioning what she saw. “Honestly, it’s like we’re made out to be crazy. I saw what I saw. I have the proof. Emmy saw it too. What else do they want?” she asks.
MP Gerry Byrne says he has seen the pictures and says this seems to be a very credible report to Canadian government officials from two of its residents that a significant event did occur. While he would like to help unravel the mystery, he says he feels as if his hands are tied. “The proper place to bring this up is in Question Period, but the House is closed and that isn’t possible,” he said from Ottawa. The citizen’s of this province have a right to know what happened, he says, though he readily admits there is a possibility that a straightforward answer may not be imminent. “I’d like to have the opportunity to ask the tough questions of our government. What do you know, when did you know it, and what can you tell us. Instead, we have had the communication door closed on us,” he says.
　
Pardy says she doesn’t care who ultimately answers the question of what was in the sky that night as long as it is finally answered. In the meantime she is left wondering what the big secret is.
“Just tell us what it was. Someone knows, or they should know, and that someone who knows should tell the public. What goes up eventually comes down somewhere, so this can’t be any great secret. Try jigging a fish out in the harbour. The Fisheries would be right there, right? So surely they know where three missiles spotted off back cove in Harbour Mille were fired from.”

(pictured are Darlene and her partner Hubert, two eye witnesses)

UFOH! OH! OH!

2010-02-02T04:39:00.001-05:00

In the early evening hours of January 25th, Darlene Stewart and her partner Hubert Dominaux got the fright of their lives. The couple were enjoying watching the sun set from their sea side home in Harbour Mille on the Burin Peninsula when they saw what appeared to be a U.F.O racing across the sky.
“It was just the sky and the beautiful colours one second and then this other thing, like a rocket, shooting across the sky the next,” begins Darlene, still shaken from the experience.
There wasn’t only one “rocket” but three, each following the other by about five minutes. After witnessing the first rocket, Darlene, instantly alarmed, grabbed her camera and the phone. She managed to get a picture of one of the rockets.
Emmy Pardy was buzzing around her kitchen when she noticed the tale end of the first rocket. That’s when her phone rang. It was Darlene.
“My eyes aren’t the best so I grabbed my binoculars and I was just amazed at what I saw. I’ve lived here a long time and I’ve never seen anything like it,” Emmy says.
According to Emmy, the object appeared to be a “silver tipped rocket,” with a trail of black smoke shooting out from behind it. She couldn’t judge the distance, but the object appeared to have come from the water’s surface. It was traveling diagonally into the sky.
“It was out over the water and there was no sound. I looked for a ship, to see if anyone was in trouble even thought I knew it wasn’t a flair. It put me in mind like there was a submarine in the water and it was shooting up because when the next two rockets went off it was like they were being shot from a different spot in the water; almost like a submarine had moved to a different spot,” she says.
Emmy, while still on the phone with her excited neighbour, watched the three rockets as they shot across the sky and wondered what they were.
“I was tormenting Darlene, saying; ’it’s a bird, it’s a plane, no, it’s E.T. come home,’ but honest I couldn‘t figure out what it was and I was a bit nervous myself as I watched them,” she says.
The Herald contacted the Department of Fisheries and Oceans and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Neither had any idea what the objects were, though the R.C.M.P has launched an investigation into the incident. Emmy Pardy had initially been told by the R.CM.P that the object was a missile that had been launched by the army in St Pierre. Follow up calls to the R.C.M.P say that simply isn’t the case, and they indicated that St. Pierre has no access to missiles of that type. The officer suggested further inquiries go through the Department of National Defense. Calls made to that department have not yet been returned.
Darlene says she can’t imagine she’ll get much in the way of a restful nights sleep until she knows for sure what the rockets were. “This wasn’t a comforting sight. If there are military tests going on then we should have some kind of a heads up so we don’t have to worry we’re under attack or something,” she says.
Darlene is grateful that the incident is now under investigation, adding that things that go up must also eventually come down.
“This concerns me so much. What was it? Where did it come from is one question but the bigger question is where did it come down at? What if it landed somewhere where it shouldn’t have?”
In the meantime Darlene says she will have her camera at the ready and her eyes on the sky. She isn’t taking any chances. “It was hard to tell how far away this thing was. I can’t rest. I can’t. Not until I know. We have a right to know.”

Close Call

2009-04-25T15:10:00.000-04:00

Morgan Cox has spent the last 12 years of his life working construction in Resolute Bay, the second most northern community in Canada. The best part of his ten months away from home is usually the flight back to his wife and Michelle and their two young children each December. Not this time.
Cox, 11 other passengers and two crew members aboard a chartered flight from Resolute Bay to Yellowknife experienced a rough landing when the aircraft missed the runway in Cambridge Bay while attempting to land for a scheduled fuel stop. Instead of hitting the runway they landed in an icy, rocky field about 1.5 kilometres south of the runway at 1:45 a.m. MT on Saturday, December 13th.
Cox was up front, directly behind the pilot. “I could see the runway lights right there and I watched the pilot do his thing. He put the flaps down and did all the normal stuff they do for a landing, but then we started to descend faster and faster and then we hit solid,” he says.
Cox says it took about ten seconds for his life to flash before his eyes. When he realized he was still alive he and the other passengers aboard got out of the plane as quickly as they could. “When we hit everyone on her was like they were frozen for about half a minute but then we got out pretty fast. The passengers on the left side of the plane had seen fire coming out of the engines on their side just before we crashed, so we pretty much were in a rush to get out. Thinking back now I can’t believe how calm we all were.”
Incredibly, no one was seriously injured.
There were other Newfoundlanders aboard. Besides Cox’s brother, Wayne, from Terrenceville there were two other men from the Burin Peninsula and another from the Mount Pearl area. All were trying to get home to their family’s in time for Christmas.
The men, all dressed in light layers for travel, took a moment to assess their odds in the -41 degree temperatures. The plane itself was a “write off” according to Cox. While the left side of the plane was almost like new the right side-the side he had been traveling on-was practically destroyed. Also destroyed was the nose of the plane, the tip of the right wing, the engine and the landing gear. “The moon was out and you could see off about 100 feet away from where we landed was all these rocks. If we would have hit that instead of the softer snow where we struck then you wouldn’t be talking to me today,” he says. The men waited to see if the plane would catch fire. When they felt it was safe enough, and the cold began to set in, the men climbed back on board to wait for rescue. “We bundled up in these engine blankets and those emergency blankets and just waited.”
The pilot had a cell phone and called for help. The rough landing also set off the airplane's transmitter beacon and a local resident discovered the downed plane 40 minutes after it crashed. Within four hours everyone was transported by snowmobile into Cambridge Bay to be assessed before being flown to Yellowknife on another Summit Air plane. From there the men took a flight to Edmonton, changed planes and headed for home.
“It was rough having to get on the same kind of airplane you just crashed in, but there was no other way home so we didn’t have much choice.” Cox and the other men just wanted to get home as fast-and as safely-as they could.
While the voice recorder from the airplane's cockpit has been sent to Ottawa for analysis and investigators with the federal Transportation Safety Board were investigating the incident Cox says the pilots were saying the crash was caused by “an optical illusion.” “The pilots said that weather like we had that night plays tricks on the eyes and they just missed their mark as they were landing. They said we went down too fast.”
Whatever the cause, Cox says he is just happy to be home. “It didn’t really hit me until I pulled into the driveway. Then I realized what a close call it really was.”

Melina's Tale

2009-04-25T15:06:00.000-04:00

Chatting with Melinda Flannigan breaks my heart. She and I live similar lives-her husband, Freddie, works in Alberta on a 20 and eight rotation- yet somehow her story seems so much more tragic than mine. While I often laugh about and celebrate the lifestyle that allows our family to remain in rural Newfoundland, she is sad-guilty even- much of the time. “When I had to drop Freddie off this last time so he could go away I think it was the hardest time ever,” she says. Freddie will miss their sixth wedding anniversary on July 13th. Blair missed our last two-our 17th and 18th . While we didn’t pay much attention to either one Melinda is genuinely broken hearted. She fills up so often during our chat that I find myself questioning my own reactions as I live the life of an oil patch widow.
“Each time he leaves I think it gets worse. No matter how many times we go through this it never gets any easier,” she tells me. While sometimes I admit the leaving can be tough, for me it’s more the day or so before that things seem the roughest. Instead of becoming sad, I usually turn a little surly. So much to be done around the house and Blair’s gone trouting? Or hanging out down on the wharf? The man might as well be away, I tell myself. And often, I believe it. I step into her raw, emotion-filled shoes for a moment and I feel something so uncomfortable I quickly discard them. My way is better, I decide.
Melinda and I have a few things in common. Our husbands have been working a similar rotation for around the same length of time-just over 16 months. They both held jobs close to home before going back to school to get a trade, one that would put them in high demand in the Alberta Oil Sands- her husband is a third-year pipe fitter, mine a second-year Instrumentation Mechanic. Our husbands both worked away for a longer period of time-mine six and hers three months-before securing rotation work. We both have only children-she an almost five year-old daughter, me an 11 year- old son.
But there are also many differences. I live in an outport, she in an urban centre- Marystown- a place where I thought having an absentee spouse wouldn’t be a huge deal. After all, everything she needs is right at her finger tips. She isn’t nearly as isolated as I am. Right? According to Melinda, those differences only serve to makes things worse. First of all, while I live amongst a group of women living the same life, raising children under similar circumstances, she is the only oil-patch widow in her peer group. “I’m always feeling left out. Isolated. There’s no one I can call on who understands,” she says. She is also close enough to employment opportunities to question, almost on a daily basis, their current lifestyle. Having the shipyard close is a constant reminder of what could be, she tells me. I have twelve years on the 26 year-old Melinda and I wonder how I would have reacted being away from my husband for that long at such a young age. Having a daughter also seems to make a difference. Where our son seems fine, accepting a revolving door daddy as normal, (he is, after all, just like the rest of his buddies) their young daughter, Kalei, cries for her daddy regularly-especially at night. “She wonders why her daddy can’t be home for supper like poppy is, or she’ll ask why so-and so’s daddy is home while hers isn’t.”
“He’s missing so much of our daughters life. So much he isn’t here to see that it kills me emotionally,” she says, crying once more. This time she gets me and I find myself holding back tears of my own. We will soon have a new baby, one who will experience many firsts, firsts my husband could quite possibly miss. I struggle to regain my composure, but this time, she has me. “I call women like us part-time single mom’s. We have to do all the disciplining while at the same time providing our children with enough love, patience and understanding to make up for the parent whose away,” she says.
Melinda does her best, but there is one thing she says she hasn’t quite figured out how to handle. “When Kalei cries for her daddy there seems nothing I can do to ease her pain, so I let her cry, even as my own heart breaks for her and for me,” she says.
While Melinda outlines things she finds the hardest, she also reminds me that our husbands have it worse. “Freddie will try to call when he can, but sometimes with the time difference it can be difficult,” she says. Freddie experiences his own bout of the guilt’s while away, she says. “He’s sad for me, thinking of what I have to deal with alone. He’ll cry on the phone or when he has to leave to catch his flight.”
Before I fall apart, I change the subject. Let’s talk about the money, I prod her, looking for a smile. No doubt, that is a bonus, she says. Still, even that doesn’t quite cut it for her. Three years ago their family lived in a run down apartment. They had no vehicle. Today they own their own home and have a car to drive. “I know you can’t live off nothing, but sometimes I question if it’s really all worth it,” she says.
“When I go to bed each night there’s only an empty feeling. No one to talk to, no one to cuddle with. Do you find that?” she asks.
Part of me wants to tell her that it gets easier, to toughen up, but I can’t. Again I choke up and I have to acknowledge something I’d rather not admit to.
Melinda lives with the hope that her husband might be home working for Kiewit soon. Home for supper each evening after a hard day working at the shipyard. Freddie has already applied. It reminds me to send an application in for Blair-something we haven’t gotten around to doing yet.
Again, I wonder about how hard-hearted I have become. I decide I couldn’t live like Melinda does everyday-so sad with raw emotion. Its not that those same emotions aren’t there; I just choose to ignore them.
A chat with Melinda shows just how close to the surface those feelings really are. And I’m not sure how to quite feel about that.

I'm Fine and Other Lies...

2009-04-25T15:02:00.000-04:00

It has been a tragic Christmas for too many throughout Newfoundland and Labrador.
Residents of Bell Island recently laid to rest three children who died in a house fire just five days before Christmas and while the community of Upper Island Cove hasn't given up the search for two teenagers who went missing when their ATV went over a cliff into the water below, all that has been recovered thus far is the ATV the were riding and one boot.Then, on Boxing Day, an accident in St. John’s claimed the lives of two men in their 40's when one vehicle turned the wrong way into oncoming traffic. Tragic indeed. But the weeks leading up to the holiday’s weren’t much brighter. A 20 year old woman from Corner Brook was killed in a traffic accident on the Trans Canada Highway on Dec. 18th when a westbound car and an eastbound pickup truck collided near Goobies in the middle of the afternoon. And, on December 3, a hunter from Brooklyn, Bonavista Bay was reported missing after he failing to return home. Police and Search and Rescue converged on the small community in an effort to find the 28 year old, but those efforts failed.
That same week a French cargo vessel was lost just south of Marystown off the Burin Peninsula. Four men were killed after the Cap Blanc got into trouble in three-metre seas, as the winds gusted to 63 kms/hr.
And there was more tragic and heartbreaking headlines hailing from Afghanistan. Pte. Justin Peter Jones was killed after a roadside bomb destroyed the vehicle he and his platoon were travelling in. He was buried in his hometown of Baie Verte the day before Christmas Eve.
With each new headline Karen Coultas found facing the holiday’s with cheer and merriment more difficult. “I just know what the parents of every dear, precious child who is lost are going through. Every time I hear someone else’s child has died it brings me right back to the day Zachary died. The pain is indescribable,” she says.
Coultas lost her six year-old son, Zachary, when he was struck by a dump truck while out riding his bicycle in their Airport Heights neighbourhood.
Coultas says going through the experience of loosing any loved one is difficult enough, but loosing a child is something no one should ever have to go through, yet so many do.
“When someone become a parent, there is no denying it; life changes. From the very beginning children take on the highest priority and most parents go to great lengths to keep their children safe. We forgo sleep, energy and privacy, placing a child's needs ahead of our own. Our goal is to protect them from danger,” she says. “No one deserves to go through the pain of loosing a child. No one.”
Since Zachary’s death there are strong, powerful emotions Coultas says she deals with every day. Shock, check. Disbelief, check. Anger. “Oh, I’ve been in and out of that one, let me tell you,” she says. Anger at the truck driver, anger at herself for allowing her son out of her sight. The list of emotional up’s and down’s is endless, she says.
What Coultas is going through is heartbreakingly common for those grieving the loss of a child, explains Colleen Wells, a manager for pastoral care and ethics with Eastern Health. “When a child dies it’s quite natural for parents to experience an over-whelming sense of failure; their protective efforts failed. No matter what age a child is when they die parents feel the death was unfair for the natural order of things is for a parent to die first. Anything else is surely against nature,” she says.
Mary Steele, a grieving mother and local founder of Compassionate Friends agrees.
“Mothers care for young children both physical and emotionally. We’ve fed them, bathed them, changed and dressed them, cuddled them and held them in our arms,” she says. Whether family’s have been through a long, all consuming battle with an illness, or suffer from the trauma that a sudden death brings, the circumstances don‘t seem to matter more than the basic raw fact that a child is forever gone and each death brings its own particular burdens, she explains.
But there are things that family and friends of someone who has lost a child can do to help.
The first thing you must do is reach out. “When you loose a child you feel like a diseased person no one wants to be around. Everyone feels awkward. People are afraid to say or do anything that might make you cry, so sadly many just stay away and that’s definitely the wrong thing to do,” explains Coultas.
Steele agrees. “The best thing for anyone to do is just say whatever they feel emotionally. If you feel sorry, say so. If you feel sad, express that. Sometimes though just saying nothing is best. If your afraid something spoken might backfire, then just offer a hug and leave it at that,” she says.
There are certainly things you shouldn’t say in such circumstances. Steele lost her 15 year-old son, Danny to suicide just days before Christmas in 1988 and she says she could write a book on what not to say. “Some told me to be grateful for my other children. Others questioned the circumstances of the death, which wasn’t helpful to me at all at the time. But the worst was the people who just avoided me altogether. I needed to talk about Danny. I needed other people to talk about him, to say they missed him like I did. I still need people to talk about him today,” she says.

Never assume someone is over the death of a child, no matter how long ago it occurred, she advises.
That is something Coultas is finding particularly challenging as she faces her second year of grief. “All the firsts; the first birthday without Zachary, the first day of school when he wasn’t there and all the other children were, the first Halloween, the first Christmas, everyone reached out to me on those occassions, but now that all the firsts are over with its almost like I’m supposed to be cured and done with it,” she says. Coultas says she is far from done.

Kay Kennedy lost her son Kevin when he was killed in Afghanistan. “It will be two years this April and all my firsts were a blur,” she says. In fact Kennedy is finding her second Christmas without Kevin worst that the first. “That first year I was like on auto-pilot. I was on the ball. I had everything bought, wrapped and ready to go in November. This year I was lucky to get the tree up.”
Kennedy says sometimes shock and denial was all that got her through that first year. “That’s why having people reach out to me now is so important. I don’t want Kevin to be forgotten and to forget that I’m grieving is to forget that he was ever here if that makes sense,” she says.
Reaching out, mention his name, and see what happens, she says.
Kennedy has another tip; don’t criticize or question the response you get in return. “Many times memories of Kevin will make me cry, but other times they might make me laugh. Either is fine, don’t expect me to be always happy, but don’t expect to find me always sad and depressed either,” she says.
Steele has some advise for those who are dealing the loss of a loved one. “Always remember that person lived and its fine to remember them however you feel appropriate,” she advised. For some it might be a special ornament, or displaying a photo. For others creating a quiet spot in a garden might work best. “Grief and grieving is unique, even though there are things that are common in every case its important to recognize that grieving is almost an anything goes and expect anything emotion.”
“Bottom line is you do what you can do and do your own little thing to remember your child. If you want to veg out and go for a walk, by all means, do that. If you’d rather surround yourselves with friends and family, well, that’s fine also.”
Bottom line is to combine grieving into your life in whatever healthy way you can for however long it takes, she says.
There are no time limits on grief.
Impact of Loss: The Grieving ProcessWhen a loved one is dying or dies, there is a grieving process. Recovery is a slow and emotionally painful one. The grieving process can be less painful if you try to understand that loss and grief is a natural part of life. Try to believe in yourself. Believe that you can cope with tragic happenings. Let your experience be a personal growth process that will help you to deal with future stressful events.
The grieving process usually consists of the following stages. Note that not everyone goes through all these stages.
Denial and ShockAt first, it may be difficult for you to accept death of a loved. As a result you will deny the reality of death. However, this denial will gradually diminish as you begin to express and share your feelings about death and dying with other family member friends.
AngerDuring this stage the most common question asked is "why me? ". You are angry at what you perceive to be the unfairness of death and you may project and displace your anger unto others. When given some social support and respect, you will eventually become less angry and able to move into the next stage of grieving.
BargainingMany grieving individuals try to bargain with God. They probably try to bargain and offer to give up an enjoyable part of their lives in exchange for the return of health or the lost person.
GuiltYou may find yourself feeling guilty for things you did or didn't do prior to the loss. Accept your humanness. You accepted the humanness of the person who died. They would want you to do the same for you. Sometimes there can be indignities that your loved one went through. When you have a harsh flashback consider the huge challenge they faced and the courage they displayed.
DepressionYou have experienced a great loss. Mood fluctuations and feelings of isolation and withdrawal may follow. It takes time to become socially involved in what's going on around you.
Please note that encouragement and reassurance to the bereaved may or may not be helpful in this stage.
LonelinessAs you go through changes in your social life because of the loss, you may feel lonely and afraid. The more you are able to reach out to others and make new friends, the more this feeling lessens.
AcceptanceAcceptance does not mean happiness. Instead you accept and deal with the reality of the situation.
HopeEventually you will reach a point where remembering will be less painful and you can begin to look ahead to the future with hope, as your loved one would want you to.
Ways to Cope with Death and Dying
Discuss feelings such as loneliness, anger, and sadness openly and honestly with family and friends.
Maintain hope.
If your religious convictions are important to you, talk to a member of the clergy about your beliefs and feelings.
Join a support group.
Take good care of yourself. Eat well-balanced meals. Get moderate exercise and plenty of rest.
Be patient with yourself. It takes time to heal. Some days will be better than others.

A New Look at the Old

2009-01-23T03:48:00.000-05:00

The new Health Care Centre is now open in Grand Bank (see press release below) but local photographer Travis Parsons of Vinland Photography recently found himself lost in thought wandering the old cottage hospitial there-more images can be found on his Vineland Photography Facebook site or on his website.

Grand Bank District MHA Darin King called the official opening of the Grand Bank Health Care Center a great day for the community as well as the residents to be served by the facility. MHA King was joined by Health and Community Services Minister, Ross Wiseman , Grand Bank Mayor, Rex Matthews, Eastern Health Board Chair, Joan Dawe, Eastern Health Board Trustee Wayne Bolt, Eastern Health Chief Operating Officer for the Peninsula ’s, Pat Coish-Snow, and many other community residents and employee’s of Eastern Health.

“This is a tremendous event for Grand Bank and the surrounding communities who are served by the Grand Bank Health Care Center ”, MHA King said. ”This is a very progressive and dynamic facility which will result not only in improved services for patients, but it will also see much-needed improvements to working conditions for employees who are here on a daily basis.”

The MHA indicated that residents have been very patient, and have waited a long time for this day. “The old Grand Bank Cottage Hospital was certainly a great facility for the residents it served, in it’s day,” King said, “but it has out-lived it’s life span. There was a great need for a new, modern facility to better serve the residents, and to provide for better, more modern facilities in which medical personnel are able to assist patients.”

Grand Bank Mayor Rex Matthews also expressed delight with the facility opening. “This is a tremendous and exciting day for the Grand Bank/Fortune area,” Mayor Matthews said. “Citizens have been waiting a long time for such a facility, given the poor condition of the old cottage hospital.”

Mayor Matthews indicated that this new facility will be beneficial to all residents of the area it serves. “Good quality health care is vital to the well being of our people. This wonderful facility, along with all the staff who continue to provide the best patient care, will be a major improvement in the delivery of health care services. I am delighted that this day has finally arrived, and I commend and thank all those who worked so hard with the town to make this day a reality.”

This new primary health care center, valued at approximately $7.7 million dollars, will provide clinic and office space for up to five physicians, 24-hour emergency care, out-patient clinics, laboratory and x-ray services. As well, the community services component will provide clinic and office accommodations for community health providers.

Worserer and Worserer

2009-01-22T14:38:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I know 'worserer' ain't a real word, but it fits.

...and as Blair reaches out to his old Alberta contacts he finds none are currently working...

From CBC;

http://www.cbc.ca/money/story/2009/01/22/suncor-union.html

A move by an Alberta oilsands giant to put expansion plans on hold will have a dire effect on workers on the other side of the country, a union official says.
Suncor, the second-largest producer in the oilsands, declared its first-ever quarterly loss this week and shelved activity on the Voyageur and Firebag expansion projects.
Anne Geehan, president of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers' local in St. John's, said the announcement is the latest in a series that has taken the wind out of an industry that has provided work to thousands of migrating workers from Newfoundland and Labrador.
"Alberta has been so good to us…. We've had many men up there all this year, all last year, but right now it's slowed down because a lot of the projects [including] Suncor — it's all sort of coming down," said Geehan.
"Some of them have scaled back, some of them are on hold right now. So it isn't very good right now."

Happy Ode to Newfoundland Day (one day late)

2009-01-22T05:00:00.000-05:00

I was on last night with Ryan Cleary talking about the commuting workforce. Interestingly enough this oilsands slow down really shouldn't come as that much of a shock or surprise to anyone.

In the last two years the number of Newfoundlanders and Labradorians participating in the fly in fly out Alberta commute was estimated to be as high as 10,000. National media jumped all over the story. The CBC calling the Alberta/Newfoundland flight program a "labour phenomenon that is changing the face of Newfoundland and Labrador."

Most phenomenons are short on stamina.

Three short years ago those Newfoundlanders who worked in Alberta either packed it in and moved there or acted like a seasonal worker; leaving in the spring, returning in the fall, and enjoyed a winter at home, and in the case of many rural folks, a winter spent in the Newfoundland wilderness. I know many a Newfoundlander who was home in time to get their moose and wouldn't have it any other way.

Still, getting use to having the work there year round has been a security blanket for many rural dwellers like myself. I, and others like me, are facing a new old reality, one we have dealt with before certainly, but one we never thought we'd be dealing with quite so soon.

As Ryan says, God Guard Thee Newfoundland.

On another note;

ODE TO NEWFOUNDLAND

THE ODE WAS FIRST PERFORMED IN PUBLIC ON JANUARY 21ST, 1902

The words of "The Ode to Newfoundland" were written by His Excellency Sir Cavendish Boyle, K.C.M.G., who was Governor of Newfoundland from 1901 to 1904. The Ode was first performed in public on January 21st, 1902. Frances Foster sang the Ode at the Casino Theatre in St. John’s.

Suncor-Have's No More?

2009-01-21T03:14:00.000-05:00

A report I read The National Post indicated Suncor Energy Inc. cut spending plans for the second time in three months, and, God forbid, stalled any further oil sands expansion indefinitely.

This is Suncor's first quarterly loss since the third quarter of 1992, the report indicated, however, excluding one-time items such as foreign exchange losses and a shift to a different accounting policy, Suncor still earned $434-million, or 46¢ a share. Compared to the $677-million, or 73¢ per share, they made last year I guess there isn't much excited hoopla over a measly $434-Million.

As some I know head back to work in the oilsands-a little late, but still back to work none the less, we still wait for hubby's call. 10 resumes were sent out last week; including some locally, and while there was interest no one is hiring in the instrumentation field "just yet."

Stay tuned.

God Guard Thee Newfoundland and Labrador

2009-01-14T06:04:00.000-05:00

Ryan Cleary has been hosting VOCM's Night Line this week and has been doing a great job.

From one of his Scrunchins pieces;

May 21, 2008

VOCM’s open-line shows have been credited/slammed of late for influencing government action, with bureaucrats and politicians supposedly glued to their radios to hear who’s saying what and to whom and reacting accordingly. I wonder if VOCM is paying morning show host Randy Simms a deputy-premier salary? I bet he’s definitely missing out on a constituency allowance. Woe is the poor bugger. Former deputy-health minister John Abbott told the Cameron Inquiry recently that government communication staff monitor and manipulate the open lines to deliver key messages to the public, remarks that Danny called “offensive and stupid.” But VOCM has influenced public opinion in these parts since Joey Smallwood wore short pants. (He always carried a pitchfork.) In fact, the entire proceedings of the Newfoundland Convention, held at the Colonial Building in Town between 1946-48 to decide Newfoundland’s fate after commission of government, were broadcast live on VOCM. The station helped dial us into Confederation, and we all know there was no manipulation involved in our being fed to the Canadian wolf.

Cleary is now part of that influence now and he's off to a great, positive start ending his program with the words; God guard thee Newfoundland and Labrador.

Maybe I like and admire the fellow too much to be totally objective, but I am honest when I say I am enjoying enjoying his show

Fly Free No More

2009-01-14T05:33:00.000-05:00

I was too busy last evening to even watch the news-very unlike me at that time of the day, but as I bustled around, trying to settle myself so I could relax for at least part of it, my husband sat watching. He called to me when this bit came on;

From CBC NS

An airline that has been shuttling oil-patch workers between Fort McMurray, Alberta, and Sydney is cancelling its weekly flight.

Canadian North is ending the service on Jan. 30.

Why? Because everything has slowed.

Today is the start of our "find a job for Blair," project since the one he was supposed to start earlier this month has been delayed until at least March or April.

We have plans to update his resume and send it around locally and throughout Alberta to see what happens.

Wish us luck. And in the meantime, if anyone is looking for an instrumentation mechanic (third year apprentice I believe) let me know

Lobster Sleevens

2009-01-14T04:11:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been out on the ocean with a lobster fisher? I have, and let me tell you; skilled or not, it ain't easy to see a v-notch lobster. (V-notching is a voluntarily practice amongst commercial lobster harvesters where one in four egg-bearing female lobsters is given a v-shaped cut in a section of the tail fan. The lobster is then returned to the water to breed. It is illegal to keep v-notched lobster.)

From yesterday's Telegram;

Three fishermen were recently convicted of keeping illegal lobster during the 2008 harvest. Hedley Butler of Bonavista was convicted on Dec. 10 for having undersize and v-notched lobster in his holding crates while fishing last June. He was fined $1,500 and is not allowed to fish for lobster during the first 10 days of the 2009 season. Meanwhile, Darrin Cooper, also of Bonavista, received a $1,000 fine and is prohibited from fishing lobster for the first five days of the 2009 lobster fishery for possession of undersize lobster. Also, in November, Daniel Baker was convicted of possession of v-notched lobster. Baker received a $1,200 fine and a one day suspension at the start of the 2009 lobster season. He also forfeited his catch. The conviction came from an inspection by DFO fishery officers at the wharf in Harbour Breton, which revealed 11 v-notched female lobsters in Baker’s catch. The lobsters were seized as evidence, photographed and released back into the water.

I know way too many good, honest fisher folk who have been "caught" this way, none of them are criminals. Just look at the picture above and see how, when your out on the ocean in the usually frigid waters in April or May, trying to earn your living as you keep from freezing to death, you could be expected to take note of each and every v-notch in your pot?

Give it a rest DFO. Make allowances for a small percentage. Too many are facing unnecessary hassles from a "voluntary" practice.

Know how to tell a male lobster from a female? Watch the video here http://www.howcast.com/videos/14477-CMN-Video-How-To-Identify-Male-and-Female-Lobsters and learn.

The Boob Battle

2009-01-14T03:32:00.000-05:00

I'm a big believer in Breast is Best and as I nurse child number two my resolve is even stronger to keep it up. As I did on child number one over 11 years ago, I will self-wean my daughter, allowing her to decide when she is ready to retire the boob.

My son was finished when he was tall enough to play in what he called the "big boy place" in Woody Woodchucks, a play place for kids near our then Mississauga home. He came home from a birthday party that was held there for an older friend of his and broke it to me as gentle as he could. "Mom, no more nummies. I'm a big boy, see?" he said, standing tall and proud before my astonished eyes. Where had the time gone? My "baby," was almost four. Yes, you heard me, four, and up to that point he was still occasionally breast feeding.

My husband and I just had our daughter for her six month needle and had her growth checked. She is, like our son was before her, off the chart in height, weight and the milestones she has accomplished far exceeds her age. Well, there was one we can't quite say she has reached; rolling, since she has only done it once and shows no signs of ever wanting to do it again, but she sits perfectly on her own and already has a sense of "gone," and "where is it," so that, among other things, places her far ahead for her age despite the rolling thing.

So, I consider this my personal ammo for the breast is best position. I also feel I should be able to nurse my child anywhere and have had my boobs out in church, in Wal-Mart and in grocery stores in my area. If my daughter is hungry or cross, or just needs a little milk and comfort so I can finish my errands, I break "it" out wherever I happen to be.

The very natural act of breast feeding is not obscene, which is why I was shocked to hear about the latest developments happening on my favorite social networking site, Facebook.

With notes from an article I read from The Toronto Star;

Facebook has been receiving an online scolding after the social networking site deleted pictures of nursing babies. It considered the pictures "obscene" and closed at least one Canadian mothers account for good.

Breastfeeding activists are emailing, posting and instant messaging their outrage. A new Facebook group set up to petition for a change in site policy – called "Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene!" – has swelled from 7,000 members to more than 172,500. The picture that did this mother is was one of her "tandem breastfeeding" her two youngest sons. Her breasts were not visible in the picture. Now, there are still many pictures of breastfeeding mothers throughout Facebook in groups like La Leche League, Canadian Breastfeeding Mommies and particularly this new "Hey Facebook" petition site, so why would a personal photo be considered obscene?

The Star reported that a Facebook spokesperson said Facebook did not prevent mothers from uploading photos of themselves breastfeeding their babies, but instead removed content that was reported as violating Facebook's terms of use.

"Photos containing an exposed breast do violate our terms and are removed," Chin said, according to another recent report in The Sydney Morning Herald.

So, as my six month old daughter celebrates her latest milestones (67.5 in length, 23.5 pounds among her many mental and physical accomplishments) I might need to celebrate and commemorate the event with a snapshot, one posted proudly for all to see on my Facebook site.

2009-01-10T05:55:00.000-05:00

I received a few emails wondering why I stopped posting over the holiday’s. The reason? Well, it wouldn’t be a holiday for me if I didn’t get ill. Pretty much every Christmas and Easter I get something awful and this time was no exception.
It started out as a simple bug, one I caught off my husband (the same husband who claims he never gets sick.) The week before Christmas I sounded worst than I felt as I really didn’t find the bug to be that bad. Even though I lost my voice and had gone through a load of tissues, I really didn’t feel that miserable.
The Christmas Eve came. It started with my hands feeling a bit itchy and ended with them becoming horridly swollen, so much so I couldn’t even hold a glass of holiday cheer. I tried being a trooper but started to whimp out when I noticed these awful hives forming on my body. My husband (the dear that he is) told me to shut up and endure it as he wasn’t loading the family up on Christmas Eve to drive an hour to the nearest emerg. I guess I could have driven myself-if I could have closed my hands over the steering wheel, that is.
I stayed put.
The gifts under the tree were more open-handed tossed there than placed with loving care, but I did what I could.
I wondered aloud a few times during the process, questioning my husband on what we would do if my throat suddenly swelled shut and I choked to my death under the twinkling lights if the tree. Blair assured me he was sure there was something around he could poke a hole in my neck with so I could catch a few breaths.
That inspired me to look for another option. I found some children’s strength liquid antihistamine in the fridge, licked what I could out of the almost empty bottle and went to bed.
I’m pleased to say I did wake up Christmas morning, though the condition I was in was less than ideal. I was covered in hives. The only area left clear was my face and my chest. The rest of my body was a mess.
When I could sneak away from the activities around the tree I checked online for the possible cause of my irritating (and very itchy) condition. I narrowed it down to ring worm or scarlet fever, though my symptoms didn’t match either perfectly. Since I wasn’t allowed to screw up Christmas dinner at my cousins home (she is a deadly cook, so I could completely understand Blair’s hesitation to miss that) I covered myself in anti-itch cream and headed out, desperately hoping I wasn’t contagious.
As soon as the meal was over we headed home and I had a nap. I did seem to be improving, but not for long. That night the condition came back with a vengeance and I was covered worse than I had been before. The hives were everywhere.
I woke early on Boxing Day and called the Health Line. They (as always) told me to head up to emerg. We were supposed to be going to my in-laws that day; a three hour drive away, but I couldn’t travel with an easy mind. Killing cousins with my possibly contagious deadliness was one thing, but exposing my elderly in-laws to the danger was quite another; I’d never be forgiven.
I drove myself to the emergency department in Burin. The problem? Who knows-I had a virus, something that was probably contagious but certainly not deadly. I picked up some antihistamine, adult strength this time, drove home, and we continued with our holiday cheer.
I started feeling better a few days later and was thrilled (though curious) that no one else I was in contact with became sick. That was until Brody woke me last Wednesday morning-asking me to scratch his back. He was covered in hives.
The worst of this bug only lasts for 48 hours but still, it isn’t pleasant. What’s worse is that besides Brody and I, I know of no one else who has had it or currently has it.
There is one thing I have to look forward to now that I know for sure it is transferable; and that is the fact that my husband might come down with it eventually.
I think we used up most of the anti-itch cream and antihistamine on Brody, so I guess I should pick up some more just in case hubby does catch it; especially considering we are such a distance from the local pharmacy.
Still, part of me doesn’t want to. If worse comes to worse I’m sure I have something around here I could jab him in the neck with-you know, to help him breathe and stuff.

Western Woes

2009-01-10T04:05:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year! By now most family’s have gotten back to their pre-Christmas normal, but not us or others like us who depend on Alberta for our “normal.” Why? Because there may not be anything to go back to. My husband left his job out west in October to go back to school for eight weeks and before long word started filtering back to him that going back to work might not be as easy as many had thought.
On November 7th I made some notes indicating that conversations I was having with other Burin Peninsula folks indicated that layoffs in Alberta were happening at a rapid pace and there seemed to be something to it beyond the regular pre-holiday shut down.
Blair was supposed to go back to work on January 5th. He was supposed to start a new project at Albian Sands. Right now the date he has been given to start there is in April. It’s not that everything has shut down completely. Flint is hiring 1000 workers immediately but they are currently only looking for those in the pipefitting and welding trades. Those in the electrical and instrumentation trades will start later. Blair has been told that once he starts he will be “steady go” until late 2010 or early 2011 at the same project. For now, the flight program is still into affect according to some company rep’s I spoke with but some former western rotational workers told me they were advised that unless they were prepared to work “the long haul,” don’t bother heading up. Blair also experienced that as he was offered work on the 15th of this month if he was willing to take a full time job.
Our phone started ringing New Years Day. By the time we returned home on the 4th our voice mail was full; full of calls from men Blair has worked with in the past, calling not to wish us a Happy New Year, but to ask if he had any lines on work for 2009. They were all coming up empty and not having much luck so out came the cell phone contact list and the buddy calls began. Blair has made a few of those calls himself though I have to admit I don’t think he’s overly anxious to get back at it. Not right then anyway.
But we realize that things quite possibly could get much worse and despite the fact that it sucks living off EI, it also only lasts so long so finding a camp job will be Blair’s top priority this coming week.
Once you find something it has been our experience that the wheels work quickly and from the time you get the call to go and the time you leave it’s usually only a matter of days.
So, in optimistic preparation, Blair took our 11 year-old away for a boys only weekend. He has also spent a lot of time with our almost six month-old daughter. He picked up the parts he needed to ready the skidoo for Brody and he’s making plans to get his father down here so they can finish the bathroom work they started before the holidays.
This ritual seems all too familiar only this time I‘m wondering if the getting ready for gone will actually result in a leaving at all.

What Not To Bear

2008-12-20T04:15:00.000-05:00

Brody is a fan of "stupid" gifts and, if we had the budget for it, his pals would get a stund gift along with a real one. Brody even manages to come up with awesome gift ideas for those not on his nice list. He has a special gift when it comes to picking self-help book titles, matching them up with folks we know in the most comical of ways. We (for the good and/or bad of it) share the same sense of humour and I'm usually right there with him as he makes his off the wall gift suggestions. But, like most. we're on a budget. So, Nathan was the only "odd" gift recipient over the last two years. Last year he received a Jesus action figure Brody picked up at the X-Store in town. It was pretty funny. There were other Jesus-things Brody wanted to get him but Jesus was an expensive item for a 10 year-old's budget so one it was.

This year Brody knew what he wanted, and threw a full salami into my grocery cart announcing it was Nathan's present. Well, the salami was second choice. Brody was actually looking for a dildo (the kids have been fascinated with them since they realized they 'Dildo' is more than a place you pass going to visit Nan in Hearts Content) and since there were none on our travels he placated himself with the real-meat substitute. I'm sure there's a male-joke in there somewhere but I was wise and didn't ask, especially when Brody asked if I had a dildo around anywhere he could use for his gift-assuring me I would get it back. As if. I thought it best not to ask.

Nathan got Brody back though, or I suppose he did. Nathan gave Brody a two-pack of baby soothers.

Best not to ask.

In the list below I would like to receive the dog-poop calendar. That would make me smile.

Enjoy these what not to gets...

Web site Stupid.com, which claims finding a truly stupid gift is an art form, on Tuesday unveiled its second annual list of the top 10 "stupidest" holiday gifts for 2008.
"2008 might have been a bad year for the economy, but it was a great year for stupidity," said Stupid.com's founder Gary Apple. "Weird products seemed to come out of the woodwork this year. There was almost too much stupidity to choose from!"

Last year the list featured a Hillary Clinton nutcracker, a Mother Teresa breath spray, and portable mistletoe with a suction cup to attach to your forehead.

Here is New York-based stupid.com's top 10 list for 2008 (http://www.stupid.com/fun) which is not endorsed by Reuters:

1. Screaming Chicken, The World's Most Annoying Toy:
This rubber chicken doesn't squeak or squawk. It screams.
2. Wealth Redistribution 2008 Holiday Ornament:
This tree ornament announces that the ornament that used to be there has been removed and given to someone who needs it more. The Redistribution Holiday Ornament will let everyone know you're spreading the wealth whether you want to or not.
3. Mini Guitar Hero:
This miniature version of that mega-hit game is barely 6-inches long but you can still rock out to songs by Queen, Cheap Trick, Nirvana, and The Police.
4. Potty Putter:
Why waste time on the toilet, when you can use it to get ready for the fairway? Potty Putter contains everything you need for an exciting round of golf without leaving your seat including a putting green for around the toilet, mini putter, flag stick and two golf balls.
5. Wasabi Flavored Gumballs:
These potent little green confections offer an intense explosion of wasabi. Strangely, the gum is actually delicious.
6. Men's Underwear Repair Kit:
In this troubled economy, don't throw away your old underwear but repair it with the Men's Underwear Repair Kit. This handy, inexpensive kit provides everything you need to get your unsightly undershorts back into presentable shape.
7. Obama "Yes We Can" Opener:
Every election spawns some interesting products, but this has to be one of the stupidest. To Obama fans, the "Yes, We Can" opener, seizing on his campaign refrain, could be a treasure.
8. "How To Tie A Tie" Tie:
Still struggle with your tie? This stylish tie has simple knot-tying instructions printed right on the front. Just follow the six step-by-step diagrams and you'll look as dashing as George Clooney in seconds.
9. 2009 Dog Poop Calendar:
Each month features a spectacular landscape or breathtaking tableau, but somewhere in every shot there's a pile of dog poop. Distasteful? You bet it is, but the contrast between the beautiful photography and dog poop is remarkable.
10. Pole Dancer Alarm Clock:
When the alarm goes off, dance music plays and disco lights flash. At the same time, a buxom blond dancer gyrates around a pole under the spinning disco ball.

Times they are a changin'

2008-12-16T09:59:00.000-05:00

TORONTO (Reuters) - Prime Minister Stephen Harper, in perhaps his bleakest comments yet on the global economy, said the future has become increasingly hard to read and conceded a depression could occur.
The Prime Minister, in an interview with CTV News in Halifax, Nova Scotia, also confirmed that his Conservative government's January budget would push Canada into a deficit, while including billions of dollars in spending.
The government is set to release its budget on January 27.
"The truth is, I've never seen such uncertainty ...," the Globe and Mail quoted Harper as saying in the interview. "I'm very worried about the Canadian economy."
The Prime Minister also raised the possibility that a depression -- loosely defined as prolonged recession where output declines more than 10 percent -- might be possible.
"It could be, but I think we've learned enough from the 1930s to avoid some of the mistakes that caused a recession in 1929 to become a depression in the 1930s."
Talk of a deficit signals an about-face for Harper's government. The party's fiscal update in November was widely criticized by economists for striving too hard to show balanced budgets in coming years at a time when most experts argued that temporary deficits would help pull Canada through a recession.
The opposition parties refused to endorse it, leading Prime Minister Stephen Harper to request Parliament be shut down to January 26, rather than face a confidence vote.

Seems we are in for a rough ride and no one is more nervous than rural folks who depend on the Alberta oil boom to make ends meet. Most I know have either abandoned the fishery altogether or have cut back on their dependence on it to join the wave of western workers. Many found the costs associated with the catch-especially the not so long ago high cost of gas-prohibitive. Men who have never worked at anything else have already worked a few Alberta shifts-only now they are sent home, no return ticket in hand.

In September Blair turned down no less than six lucrative job offers so he could attend school in October, now, he can't seem to find anything promising outside of a full time stay-in-Alberta offer.

He was supposed to start back on January 3rd. Not now. My, how quickly things have changed.

Put you in the mood-Dec 06 Indy Column

2008-12-16T08:11:00.001-05:00

It’s Christmas card time. I got that funny feeling in my stomach when I received the first one November 19th. What are they, sick? Trying to make me feel bad perhaps? I know there is still time, and I should be prepared, but these past few years I just haven’t gotten around to sending many out. Am I busy? Sure, but no more than most I know, and they all manage to get their cards out. When I lived in Ontario my job included many “critical” teleconferences. If the call was long and boring I would break the Christmas card box out of my drawer and work my way down the list. I always sent my cards out early, everyone got a personal greeting and I was never rushed. My life has changed since returning to Newfoundland and whenever I am on the phone now I either am writing notes, folding laundry or cooking supper. (Thank God for cordless phones.)Two years ago I began a nasty practice. I sent cards out only as I received them. One in, one out. The bad thing is that there are others out there who do the same, and because I didn’t send one, I didn’t get one back. There are also those (you know who you are) who mail their greetings just in time, so you get them the last mail day before the holidays. They received our card back in January. I tried to convince my mother to add "& the Ghents,” to the end of her card salutations, but she scowled and gave me "the look."So, this year I will be creative. I have a forum to reach the masses, do I not? So, if you live in the province, and you know me, keep reading because this is your Christmas card. If you don’t know me, you can still keep reading and be thankful I’m not on your card list. If this doesn’t shame you into finishing your own cards and getting them mailed, nothing will.Dear (insert your name here)The holiday’s are just around the corner and I’m writing you to wish you and your family (if you don’t have a family, just stop at “you”) the best for the season and the New Year to come. I hope 2006 was good to you and yours. (If you had any tragedy that I know about, please insert condolences here. If you had any monumental successes or any new additions to your family then please add your own version of what I might say at this point to make you feel that I care.)We had a great year here in Harbour Mille. Dad and I are still partners in the shop, though he punches in more time that I do. When I work I’m lucky I remember how to cut the cheese, but dad is an expert. Dad’s health has improved overall. He feels sick when he wants time off, and I usually concede and give him a few hours to nap or see a doctor. I tried going on his behalf. I do, after all, know his symptoms since he whines about them so much. It didn’t work. Doctors apparently need to have a look at the “baddies” to fix them. Oh well, I tried to save him a trip. Mom and Dad got a new dog. A “Shi Tzu.” This dog has created quite a stir. They spent more on P.J. than they did on my wedding and education combined, and the beast isn’t even a pure breed. A drawn out battle resulted in them getting half their money back, which is a good thing because I guarantee the cost of braces for this mutt will cost me my inheritance. He has queer looking teeth, but they do work because he has eaten two pairs of my sneakers and has bitten my arse on more than one occasion.Mom is doing great. She loves to travel and has been around a bit this year. Mom, Kim, Reneta, Kelly and I took off for a week in Nashville in June. No kids, no spouses, just honky tonks, touring, wine and laughter. I got hit by a car while there, but the good news is Kim and I did get away from those muggers. I wasn’t hurt, physically anyway. This years plan is for “the girls” to visit Bob Barker and “come on down,” though the jury is still out on if we can “come on up” with the cash. Mom spent some time with Roo and visited her kids. Kelly was down for a week and we met her new man. We tried to have something bad to say about him, but the only thing we could come up with is that he is frugal with money. Kelly’s ex-husband was generous and would buy us sisters rounds. We shall miss her ex, but Tim, welcome to the family. You seem like a great guy and Kelly has never been happier.Kim and family are great. Tracy still does all the shopping. If you see him at Wal Mart or Dominion, say hello. Reneta’s husband, Mr. Elixir, is doing well. We aren’t sure what concoction he is taking at the moment, but he is even you-know-what while doing dishes, so keep “up” the good work Don. Mike has started a new job, has a girlfriend we all like and has lost weight, though I’m sure you’ll still recognize him.From what I hear, the Ghent side of our clan are fine. My in-laws are still the out-laws, but I can’t elaborate because my darling husband will string me up with the Christmas lights. (Love you guys, save me some turkey.)Speaking of my beloved, Blair and I had an interesting year. Yes, we were separated, and I don’t just mean because he was working in Alberta. We thought we were a done deal after 16 years of marriage, but we found something worth saving (no, not just money for lawyers) and are actually like a couple of newly weds. Must be something in the water and I'm liking it. He has changed, I have changed, and we both like the new “we’s.” Wish us a happily ever after.Brody is doing great. He earned his purple belt in karate. He has dabbled in piano and guitar lessons and loves to sing. He is doing well in school, adores life in outport Newfoundland and is thrilled his dad is home from Alberta for Christmas.I’m well, thanks for asking. I’m busy with the store, my writing and school. I’m the provincial council rep and one of the regional rep’s on the Rural Secretariate and do my part for the community whenever I can. I taught the confirmation class and proudly saw my group of 7 take their first communion. I started doing promotional work for Dynamic Air Shelters, a Calgary based company, and am thrilled to be involved with the corporate world again. I did some travel around the island, I met some amazing new friends (insert your name here if it applies) and I have enjoyed absolutely every day since returning home.I hope this letter finds things well with you there in (insert place name here) and please know how honored I am to consider you a friend (or relative, or co-worker, or whatever you happen to be) this Christmas season.

All the best,Pam, Blair, Brody and Jack (the dog)

P.S. if you are mailing a card to someone I know (or even might know) who happens to live outside Newfoundland, just cut this out once you are finished reading and mail it to them, with love, from me. It will save me the hassle, and the stamp.

God bless, and Merry Christmas.

An Old Indy Column; Some Jesus Size

2008-12-16T08:03:00.002-05:00

When someone tells you that you are getting “some Jesus big,” and they aren’t referring to your fame, that ain’t good.I dropped in to visit an elderly couple in the community recently. Skipper Roy was “out b’ the door,” his wife said, as she excused herself to call him in from the garden to visit with me a while. Roy first proved his eye sight to be quite good when he read aloud from the upside down newspaper his son had spread out before him on the kitchen table. “My goodness,” I said to the almost eighty year old, “your in some fine shape.”He looked me up, then down, nodded, and answered, “yup. And your getting some Jesus big.” Well now. How does one answer that, I wondered. He was right, I did need to loose a few pounds. I am not really that bad, but I am certainly big for me. Why? Too much grub, too little exercise and too much time spent on me arse in front of the computer writing, I suppose. I am not good at dieting. If I’m not bad enough already, depriving myself of food makes me even more wickedly contrary than I am on my best worst day, and I am not alone it seems. A good girlfriend is on a diet now and the poor thing is starving herself to the point of insanity, in fact, the gal is downright surly. We took the kids to a show in town and on our way back home I passed a car that was driving much too slowly- except for the times we approached a passing lane that is. For those, he would speed up. Typical idiot of a driver, right, but nothing about that bothered me and my fully satisfied self. Well, just as we were finally passing the fella, Little- Miss-Salad-Muncher shot up with her dainty middle finger and gave buddy an unfriendly salute-complete with a matching mouthed explicit.I was shocked, even more so when the fella pulled up along side us at our local community gas station an hour later. Diet-Lady was just about to give it to him again when I held her hand down and speed away. See, while dieting may make you look good, it doesn’t do much for ones disposition. Speaking of dispositions, it was Blair’s turn to have a bit of a bad one last week. He was flying home on his turn around and what should have been a quick trip down turned into a nightmare when a medical emergency caused his flight to be redirected to Pearson in Toronto. After sitting for over an hour on the runway, they took off for Halifax. Conditions in Halifax were too bad for landing so, two hours of circling later, they headed for Montreal. Four hours in a line up left Blair with a flight that departed the next evening. A sour face and a sympathetic ear got him the last seat on an earlier flight-if he was fast enough to make it to the gate. He hustled that scrawny arse of his and miraculously made it. Just after we picked him up at the airport I started to feel slightly off. His first night home I kept that man up all night-with my very unattractive hack of a cough. I had the flu. Blair, either for compassionate or self preservation purposes, took Brody to his folks for the next few nights. That way we could all get some rest-him especially I figure. Thankfully, with my strong will to live and one healthy immune system, I was back in fine form a few days later. One good thing that comes out of being ill is that I figured I had probably lost a few pounds. I excitedly jumped into my jean shorts and burst the zipper out of the damn things as I was hauling them over my hips.I saw it as a sign summer was over and gave them a toss.I’ll worry about dieting after Blair goes back to work, after all, I wouldn’t want to be contrary-or more so than usual anyway-as well as being “some Jesus big.” Blair told me not to worry about it. I am, he swore, just perfect. “Really?” I smiled, thinking him to be just about the sweetest man alive. “Sure,” he answered, as he headed for the door, “cowboy’s love fat calves.”If only I could have caught him. Now there’s motivation for me. I think I’ll take up running

Sibling Savages

2008-12-16T08:03:00.001-05:00

We had rules growing up. Us girls were ignored when we fought but not when we pushed each other. Pushing was never allowed. That made fighting interesting-pulling someone to the ground is more challenging than having the law of physics and gravity work in your favour. We weren’t allowed to throw things either. My mother’s rationalization was that we might toss something that would be harmless if it hit the back of an unsuspecting head, but dangerous if the intended victim suddenly turned around and took a smuck in the eye. The last rule wasn’t about fighting, though I think it was made to prevent it- never date your sister’s ex.The baby in our family of five kids was male and our rules didn’t apply to him. He wasn’t the fighting kind for one thing. For another, my mother figured there was no chance of him dating one his siblings old flames. Except for a scatter poke or pinch from the youngest girl, he was generally spared our wrath.We were never told we couldn’t get dirty or wet either-and often we were both. We played in the gully and on the tracks by our home and regularly fell (or were pulled-not pushed) to the ground or into the pond, yet my mother says we were all precious darlings growing up. I suppose we were-at times. We knew how to behave in public. When my parents took us to church or out visiting we could be puffed, ribboned and frilled up-but when we were home we played hard and were hard on each other.My older sister and I fought like proverbial cats and dogs. Since we couldn’t throw things we hit one another with what ever we could get our hands on. One Christmas we each received a sewing machine. The only time I used mine was when I was smacking my sister with it. I still can’t sew a button on a shirt without flinching. There was more than one door torn off hinges in the midst of some battle and the glass panes leading to our rec room had a few body parts put through them as we tried to get at one other through some saucily locked door.While we were pretty bad we weren’t the only female scrappers in our clan. Two of my cousins fought so bad over the one window in their shared room that my aunt stormed in one day with an axe and an attitude. They thought they were gonners, they told me later. Instead of maiming the young warriors, my aunt took aim at the wall and didn’t stop until both girls had their very own window-kind of. A contractor was called and since he had to fix the wall anyway, he turned their big room into two smaller ones. They still fought-just not over a window.Clothing and foot ware was an area of non-constructive contention in our home. We were always wearing-or trying to wear-something that wasn’t ours.Many mornings one of us would sneak out to the bus stop wearing a forbidden item. If caught, the stolen clothing would be ripped off- right there in the yard. If you were sly enough to make it on the bus, you were safe- once we made it off our property we knew to behave. The rush of an ambush was part of the fun and I sometimes let a sister make it out of the house only to pounce on the front steps. Despite such mayhem, we were all quite close. Having siblings meant you always had a playmate as well as a rival- and we valued both. We rarely told on one other since we were all guilty of something. We never held grudges and no one ever really won.The fighting lessened as we aged-though I admit we fell into old patterns a time or two long after we had stopped brawling regularly.Two sisters almost beheaded one another over a pair of old, smelly sneakers long after both had graduated from high school. I smacked one sister so hard with the phone she flunked on the floor and I thought I had her killed. We had boyfriends waiting outside at the time and were much too old to be battling. I never fought (physically) with any sister after that. We can’t believe how rough we were with one another back then. While I have an only child, my sisters all have a few kids each and we get a kick out of how much the rules have changed. Fighting is forbidden altogether in this new generation-though I have witnessed a few slaps, pinches and pokes as my nieces and nephews explore the wild, wild world of siblings.The last time us girls got together we reminisced about those rough survival-of-the-fittest days and courteously agreed it was a bit much. We concluded we were trying to find our place in the world and left it at that.It wasn’t that bad I suppose, after all, we knew-and followed- the rules. Sort of. No one was pushed, (usually) no one had anything thrown at them (mostly) and as for that last rule-these lips are forever sealed.

Man Made and Willing to Share

2008-12-15T16:52:00.000-05:00

The youngsters had their Christmas Concert last week and I swear it was one of the best I’ve been to. Of course, I say that every year. This years Brody’s class did a piece called Fred’s False Teeth-what made this piece a true classic was the fact that Fred actually had a pair of false teeth, borrowed from someone in the audience I heard. No matter, there were enough false teeth to go around. One lady in the hallway informed me the kids were welcomed to hers if they found it hard coming up with a pair. In Ontario the only thing false the other mothers had were boobs. Like my teeth, I had my own God-given set that suited me just fine thank-you very much.
Elia enjoyed the show and behaved herself until the last of it. She even had a little nap while she waited for her brother to take the stage. Lovin’ all the firsts as a new (again) mom.

Nope at Albian

2008-12-15T15:17:00.000-05:00

Blair finally got word that his January 3rd start up date might be moved to April. I wasn’t impressed. Living on EI isn’t our idea of living. While the Albian Sands project might be delayed there are others he hopes might continue. We shall see.

Overshadowed

2008-12-15T15:16:00.000-05:00

This years parade was overshadowed a little by the news that a local man, Ches Tibbo, had just survived a plane crash on his way home from working in Resolute Bay. Word was still out on the extent of his injuries. That he had survived was a certainty, but there was little else known at the time. His daughter, a little girl in Brody’s grade, was at the party, but her mother was home by the phone waiting for word.
This type of thing affects everyone in a small community like this. Everyone has, or knows someone who has, worked away at some point and with the frequency of the recent fly-in/fly-out programs many a wife/parent/partner worries about the safety of the ones who go away so others might stay behind in this tiny Harbour.
I spoke to a few of the wives affected by this crash as they waited for word on their husbands. That feature will be in an upcoming edition of The Newfoundland Herald.

Santa

2008-12-15T14:59:00.000-05:00

Santa came to our outport this past weekend. A scrawny one, but a Santa nonetheless. Each year this community celebrates Christmas with the children by having a parade (thanks to the firehall-with Santa riding high and bringing up the rear atop a plastic orange chair swiped from the floor of the hall) and a party (thanks to the Lodge) with presents donated by family and friends of the local children.
This was a first of Elia, though Brody has enjoyed this event immensely over the past few years. Though, he might be getting a tad too big for our puny Santa to handle. Santa might need a few more meals to keep up with our growing lads.

Blowin’ the arse off ’er

2008-12-15T07:24:00.000-05:00

What a storm of wind blew through here the other night. Truth be told we’ve been having many storms ‘round the entire province lately but the winds that have been hitting our region have been unlike any other. Even the old farts have been saying t’s so.
Old Roy up the road has been telling me that the top of ol’ St. Mary’s is gonna fall right down on top of me one night and pin me to me bed. I’d answer that it would be the most pinnin’ done in my bed for a while. Despite my tormenting and yeah, yeahing of his predictions, Roy’s kept right on forecasting the fall of the church, right down on whomever’s below her, since we moved here. That almost happened last Wednesday night. The wind howled and it roared. It banged, and it shook the house, but besides knocking the flag pole down across the road from me on the fire hall steps and unhooking some of my Christmas lights, all seemed in tack. That was until my father knocked on my door Thursday morning to see if I was alright. I must have looked a little confused, wondering why I wouldn’t be safe and sound. He pointed towards the roof of the church. Roy’s prediction had come true at last. There, looking tragic and somehow sad, if painted wood could possible manage a look of sorrow that is, was the cross from the top of St. Mary’s church hanging on for dear life by a nail, a splinter and a prayer.

The Amazing South East Bight

2008-12-11T05:21:00.000-05:00

I meet the most amazing people writing my Inspirational pieces for The Newfoundland Herald and quite often the most inspiring isn’t what I called them for in the first place. Take the folks in South East Bight. I received a copy of a news release talking about how successful the Rice Day was at the school there. Great, sez I, a nice inspirational about students at a small school raising money for children on the other side of the world. Nice, right? I called the principal at St. Anne’s, one Elena Whyte, and discovered some amazing things. First of all I’m ashamed I didn’t know how remote South East Bight is, even though it isn’t far from my own community of Hr. Mille.
To get to South East Bight you have to travel by ferry and, from what I understand, it only travels once a day, weather permitting of course, except on Tuesdays when it doesn‘t cross at all . This community of 35 homes housing 100 people has a school with 13 children in it ranging from kindergarten to level one. When children get old enough to enter grade ten they must leave this little tight knit community in order to finish their education in another community with more resources. While some cross the ferry and are billeted out in homes in nearby Rushoon others travel further, live with relatives and attend school wherever these family members happen to live. I was in shock. Why in the world would anyone ever want to live in such a place?
Well, Whyte isn’t from South East Bight yet she says she could never imagine leaving. She arrived there to teach; for one year only, back in 1990 and never left. Whyte married a man from there and they have two sons. Besides being the principal, she is also the mayor. No, she couldn’t imagine leaving, she says, even as she faces the reality of having her own boys leave to attend school elsewhere.
South Easy Bight seems like an amazing place. Besides the regular fundraisers, like Rice Day which I will cover in my Herald piece, the folks in South East Bight-a place where most everyone is a modest, hard working fisher-support their community and beyond like no place I have heard tell of before. When members of the community found out someone who used to live there was fighting cancer they had a local fundraiser and raised over $1,200- in one week. But beyond these one of’s there is the yearly tradition of supporting Coats for kids and the Happy Tree. They get so many things for both drives that an RCMP boat has to come just before Christmas to collect all the goodies these giving people have to offer to others outside their little outport.
Of course they get a little in return. On the day these RCMP officer show up to collect the gifts and coats, Santa comes with them and the community has their local Santa Clause parade; starting from the wharf naturally, and winds through the community. The event ends with a little celebration and the children-all 13 of them-get a little gift from Santa before the boat has to head out again, taking Santa with him for another year.
I don’t know about the community you live in but I think most would be hard pressed to compete with the spirit of giving that comes from the little community of South East Bight.
I’ll be writing more about them in an upcoming edition of The Newfoundland Herald.

To find out more on Rice Day visit www.twovilliages.org

Another Indy Fav (I'm my biggest fan)

2008-12-09T16:05:00.000-05:00

The forecast said rain for Sunday. Drizzle to start the day. High of 10. Winds. And fog. Lots of fog. I sent Brody outside early with the dogs, fearing a drizzly day might mean there would be no other opportunity for them to have a romp. Brody grumbled his protests but I insisted, holding firm for once. Breakfast would be ready when he returned, I told him, using a tone made famous by exasperated mothers everywhere. He could spend the rest of the day bunkered down inside if he wished, I offered as he headed for the door, just give the dogs a good walk. I hated being the heavy. I hated having to negotiate with an 11 year-old so early in the morning. I hated a lot of things, I thought as I looked out at the gloomy morning. It had rained most of last week and the coming week would bring more of the same. It was going to be one of those days.
The bologna, eggs and toast were growing cold. No sign of my kid. I stepped outside. No rain yet. I listened. The sounds of boys, the whole lot of them it seemed, in the centre of the harbour. Other like minded mothers had sent their young out early before the rains fell, I thought to myself. Good, I wasn’t the only wickedly cruel mother.
Since the rains were holding off I stuck my rugs on the fence and swept the floors.
The dogs and boy returned, breakfast was reheated then scoffed down by a lad no longer surly, his plans for a day spent inside forgotten. There were soft air guns to be loaded and secret missions to be completed. My porch was packed with boys who, this time last year, seemed to fit perfectly in my tiny landing. They now left little room to maneuver past. Little brothers, too young or too annoying to tag along last year, pushed their way inside, fearful they would miss something. “Outside,” I said to anyone who had a body part in a place that kept my door from closing. I wasn’t trying to be mean, just practical. I was prepared for a miserable day and I felt chilled from the inside out. I didn’t want the door left hanging. Not today.
But the door refused to listen. The boys weaved in and out. Extra amo was kept on a chair in my hallway and the lads kept popping in to reload. “Can’t you leave that outside,” I moaned, motioning to the multi-colored bb’s that completely hid my cushions. “Or use your pockets, ” I scolded all within ear shot. I was talking to myself.
The young gangsters retrieved butter knives, plastic drinking glasses and things I was best off not knowing about on their quick pit stops inside. I gave up, turned off the furnace and put on a sweater.
The shoot ‘em up lasted all morning. Everyone survived. Somewhat. One youngster took a direct hit, (accidentally on purpose I believe; I know what its like to have a younger sibling) but his older brother told him Nan would be mad if he told. She would take the pistol away. For good. No more gun games. The lad bravely wiped his tears-and his nose- onto the sleeve of his jean jacket. No doubt thoughts of his no-nonsensical grandmother helping to speed up the drying process. I thought-briefly- about making a phone call to the woman myself, but recalled how good it felt not be told on- even when you should be. Since the battle seemed to be winding down I decided to forget about it- unless asked. Besides, I had only walked to the window to check for rain. It was only chance that I spied the near maiming.
I looked at the sky. Still no rain. But it couldn’t be far off. With the lads now off on another outport adventure, (sans guns) I cuddled down for a nap.
The rain would make for a restful afternoon snooze.
Or so I thought. It was too hot to get comfortable. At first I blamed the pregnancy, but a quick glance outside proved that wasn’t it at all. Sun. Full on sun. I walked outside and felt the heat on my face. I took off my sweater and shed the attitude. I couldn’t spend anymore time waiting for this rain. I checked the outside temperature. 21 degrees. The rest of the day had to be enjoyed. Brody and I loaded up the dogs and the rubber dingy and headed for the pond. We explored a beavers dam and Brody went for a late afternoon swim. I thought about getting in myself, but worried that the spring chill still in the pond might not be great for the baby in my tummy. But I wanted to get in. Badly.
We stayed by the pond till the flies grew thick. Sure sign of rain, I thought. We headed home. My rugs were still out.
The other boys were waiting as we pulled into the drive. Guns drawn.
I didn’t see my boy again till dusk, chased in, he said, by rain. I stood in the doorway to see for myself. Only drizzle really. I tried to send him back out to end the day as it had begun, with a romp in the playground with the dogs. He started to protest, so I slipped on my sandals. I would do it myself, I told him. It was still warm, though the winds had certainly picked up. The light drops felt refreshing, like salt water spray on a pleasant afternoon boating trek. The door opened behind me. Brody. “I’ll do it mom,” he said, reaching for the youngest pup.
We walked the dogs together that Sunday night, enjoying those light, late spring rains. What I had been waiting for all day had finally arrived. I just had no idea that when it finally came it would be so pleasant.

And I thought I was too old to be at it

2008-12-09T15:08:00.000-05:00

OK, so this missus in New Delhi gets pregnant and has a baby girl. The headline mentions she might be a tad old to be at it., but hey, no big deal, sez I to meself. Figuring as she and I had something in common, I read on. But wait, she isn’t no almost 40-something mamma, oh no. This woman’s been married longer than I’ve been on this earth. Yes me dears, this woman has been married-yes MARRIED-for 50 years. This new mother is-wait for it-70 years-old. That’s all interesting enough but the father is no spring chicken his own self-he (my dears) is 72.
So none of this was natural, at least not in the beginning and the couple used IVF. Of course that’s not saying they don’t bump uglies from time to time, but not for procreation. And, get this, the child is for them, not for some much younger family member who couldn’t have kids of their own. And the icing on the cake? This is their first child.
OK, to each their own, but I’d be quite interested in seeing a follow-up to this story about six months into this. I had a kid 11 years-ago at 27 and now having a second as I’m nearing 40 just ain’t quite as pretty. Somehow I used to be able to make harried look sexy but now harried just makes me look haggard and horrid. I look tired all the time-which I am. I spend most days in my pj’s because I haven’t yet made it back in my pre-pregnancy clothing and I’m too stubborn to buy crap that fits. Now I do have some stuff, things I save for my Marystown runs or when I need to actually see people-beyond the locals that is, they have long since become accustomed to my stripped pajama pants-they make me look thin.
So, good luck my dear and don’t worry about not getting much sleep. Considering your age I’m sure you’ll be resting in peace long before that baby of yours is sleeping through the night.
I wonder if she’s breast feeding?
Now there’s a thought.

Bad, Bad Dolly

2008-12-08T06:09:00.000-05:00

I have one of these dolls for Elia for Christmas and I can't hear that message but then I have the ability to block out the unpleasant- why I've been married so long

Woman objects to doll's alleged Islam message
ctvbc.ca
A woman thought she was buying the latest must-have Christmas toy for her granddaughters -- but found a shock at the toy store instead.
When Bonnie Goldstone purchased two Little Mommy dolls at a Langley Toys R Us, she was following the advice of a friend.
"One of the mums was telling me about it -- it's the best doll ever, their daughter doesn't want to put it down. So its like, it's sold, I gotta get it!" she said.
Goldstone went home and told my daughter about buying the cooing dolls, and her daughter told her to listen to the message.
So she did, and what she heard shocked her. Goldstone is certain the doll says "Islam is the light."
"I think it's not right," she said.
"A cooing baby saying Islam is the light. This is not cool... Who's doing this, someone in the factory? A secret message? What is this? I'm gonna return the doll. I don't want it."
When CTV asked shoppers what they thought, some at first couldn't hear the words until they were told what it was meant to say.
"She does, too! It is too! Holy!" said one woman.
After Goldstone returned the dolls to the Toys R Us, she said the store's manager was surprised.
"He was shocked. He didn't realize it -- he said 'oh my gosh. I'm gonna call head office -- e-mail head office and see if they can get them taken off the shelves.' That's good -- what I wanted," she said.
As for the fuss over the talking dolls themselves, Goldstone has made a different decision in terms of what to get for her granddaughters.
"I'm gonna get a doll that doesn't speak, maybe crawls," she said.
With a report from CTV British Columbia's Shannon Paterson

Santa Says...

2008-12-08T04:54:00.000-05:00

http://portablenorthpole.sympatico.msn.ca/watch/011e99b571b26ca43af6d487e1dbc4ef

Want to receive a personalized message from Santa? Then have a look.

2008-12-07T07:21:00.000-05:00

Anne Marie Hagan's Website http://www.annemariehagan.com/

I think about Anne Marie Hagan from time to time. I am thinking of her today. The first time I met her was under less than ideal circumstances though meeting her changed my life. My brother-in-law Brian was killed suddenly and tragically in a car crash near Air Port Heights and we were down from Mississauga for the funeral. As I sat stunned and angry in the kitchen at the funeral home a woman reached out, touched my hand and spoke the most comforting words.

That woman was Anne Marie Hagan, a relative of the Brian's girlfriend. She comforted me in my grief and then shared her own stunning story of tragedy and forgiveness. Her experiences moved me greatly. Shortly after we returned to Ontario we began planning our potential journey back home- for good. While many things have not turned out as planned, other things have turned out better than we could have ever imagined. Blair's family is near and dear and unyielding supportive, our son is doing amazingly well and has loved his Newfoundland outport life and we now have a new baby girl.

While none of these things can be solely contributed to Anne Marie, one thing can. The story of her and I was the very first piece I wrote for The Newfoundland Herald. That piece gave me the confidence to pen a few yarns for The Telegrams and before long I met Ryan Cleary and began writing for The Independent full time.

As I watch the first snow fall of the year out this way I can't help but think of Anne Marie and reflect on how her story not only helped me accept a loss, but gave me the confidence to learn and grow from that pain.

Thinking of you today.

Come On

2008-12-07T06:00:00.001-05:00

This story is funny. Reminds me of the time I was pulled over for making a left in front of the court house in St. John's (no, I wasn't in jail-not then anyway)

I told the officer I wasn't from town and that I get all confused and flustered. He believed me (it was quite true, in that case anyway. You should see me try to find my way in to The Rooms each and every time I go) and he let me off with it. Thank goodness I didn't need to prove my stundness like this lady had to prove her pregnancy. What could I have done? A road-side spelling test?

BOSTON - A man in Massachusetts is appealing a $100 ticket he got for driving to a hospital in the breakdown lane of a gridlocked Boston highway while his wife was in labour.
The Boston Globe reports that a state trooper pulled over John Davis and his wife Jennifer for using the breakdown lane Nov. 18.
The man says his wife's contractions were three minutes apart.
The couple says the trooper made them wait five to 10 minutes while he wrote a ticket for another car on Route 2, asked to see Jennifer's belly to prove her pregnancy, then issued them a ticket.
The couple made it to Mount Auburn Hospital in Cambridge.
Their daughter was born five hours later.

An Old Indy Column; Oil Patch Wives Club

2008-12-07T05:56:00.001-05:00

From time to time I'll post some of my favorite Indy Columns like this one;

Pam Pardy Ghent March 2008 The Independent

I’m gonna start a new club. I’ll call it the Oil Patch Wives Club.
The first order of business will be deciding how to go about debunking the age-old tradition of treating our men-and the fact that they work away-as the only thing of interest to talk about when you meet us on the street. Each time we head outside the door and run into anyone the first question we’re all asked-after we’re finished discussing the weather of course-is, “when’s your man coming home?”
These social chats proceed from that one point-all geared towards our work-away men. “How’s he doing?” and “He must find it cold this time of year,” are followed by “Much work up there?” and “You and (insert children’s names here) must really miss him, eh?”
While there’s nothing wrong about inquiring about those slugging away to earn a living up-a-long, what is always ignored is the fact that standing right in front of your eyes is a woman working hard to hold it all together.
Our club will educate the masses that talking only about the well-being of the away is like lauding the dead while ignoring the living. Tossing in a scatter, “how have things been for you these days?” or “what an amazing job you’ve been doing on your own with (insert children’s names here),” simply wouldn’t kill anyone now, would it?
Of course, in order to change others we have to first change ourselves. I’m guilty of running around like a headless chicken for a full week before my husband comes home on his own turnaround. I run up to Tilley’s hair salon in Marystown to colour the hair I want to keep and painfully wax off the stuff I want to get rid of. The gals up there know my six week cycle, and all conversation is geared towards that “joyful” reunion, and I gleefully play right along. Why? Because I’m falling into the trap with all the others out there in our province.
I too talk non-stop about my hubby-home-soon preparations. The hubby-grub I must pick up, the hubby-cleaning I must do, the up coming trip to town to pick up my other half, the rush involved getting everything work related done and all the mundane chores completed and out of the way so we can relax while hes home. I'm exhausted just writing all that down. I’m hoping group therapy in this new club can help ease some of that unhealthy fixation.
Us Oil Patch Wives need sympathy from others who get the let down we inevitably feel once our men are finally home. We need a safe place to vent our pissed-offishness at the raw reality we face each time our men return. Besides being treated like God’s by their mothers and other family members (at a recent visit my mother-in-law snatched a tea out of Blair’s hands, claiming that the cup it was in “wasn’t fit” to drink out of. She made him a fresh one, pouring it into a “fit” cup. I went to get a cup for myself and she thoughtfully told me that she would make me one, since she was already up and all. I got one alright- in the non-fit mug she had snatched from Blair’s paws only moments before) they are treated like celebrities by everyone else. Folks we haven’t laid eyes on since the last turn around suddenly show up for a chat and each time hubby wanders out into the daylight he is accosted by neighbours, ones who usually rush right by on a regular day, who want to hear how he’s been. Instead of screaming like some mad-banshee and wildly chasing such people up our rural roads, we can vent our frustrations (screaming and running optional) during an accepting and understanding Oil Patch Wives Club meeting.
The challenge of dealing with an often anticlimactically return of a work-away partner needs some thought. Us women get so excited about this homecoming that we’re often left dazed and confused when we find these men treating us exactly how they treated us when they lived at home full time.
Sadly, just because ones spouse has been away from home for a while doesn’t mean they have magically morphed into anything different than they were before they left. They didn’t return from the land of Oz my dears, they were merely in Alberta. So, if they were crooked before, odds are they’re still crooked now. If they were lazy around the house before they left, they will be lazy each time they return and if they got on your Jesus nerves six weeks or 20 days ago, well, you get the picture. Mark my words, there will be no surprising personality changes-none for the better anyway.
The Oil Patch Wives Club will offer creative solutions to deal with such disappointment. I have a few tried and true methods of my own that might help others in this situation. Well, my methods may be more along the seek-revenge and make him pay dearly lines than actually being able to help anyone deal with the reality of the situation-but I’m always willing to share what I know. Oops. That can’t be good now, can it? See? I desperately need a healthy place to vent, and I know I’m not alone. The Oil Patch Wives Club sounds like just the ticket now, doesn’t it?
If you want to join just shoot me an email. Who knows, this might be fun as well as therapeutic. Gotta be better than shock treatments.

Old Times

2008-12-07T05:53:00.000-05:00

Levi's was the place everyone went to hang out back in the day. The Best Buy’s are at Levi's, the radio adds claimed. While I’m not certain if that was true or not, judging from the masses that milled around his shop he sure seemed to be doing something right.
There were other choices back then. If memory serves me correct we had at least three other places to shop in this little outport community. While Levi’s was the largest store in town, I believe there were other reasons to shop and hang around.

It was where the men were. On any given day fathers, son’s, brother’s and husband’s could be found just hanging out, yarning and enjoying a beer-yes a beer. In public. Imagine? Worked great for us youngsters for there was no better time or place to hit your old man up for a few bucks than while he enjoyed a cold one with the lively crew at Levi's. Father’s were always in good spirits- leaning on the counter, foot on a beer box, laughing, and lying-at Levis shop. Dad’s-be it the booze or the company they kept-were easily parted with coins for the pinball machine or for a bag of ketchup chips and a birch beer.
As a teen I used to announce to my townie friends that the best b'ys soon stopped by Levis. You didn’t stand alone long before someone to hang with popped in and in no time there were a slew of us laughing and joking or just hanging around the freezers along the side wall. Levi never kicked us out. Perhaps he saw dollar signs, figuring before long our pockets would be empty and out gullets full of candy and our gobs full of frozen bubblegum scooped from the bottom of a Screwball ice cream cup. But it was more than that. Levi was nice. He always had a smile for us youngsters. We always felt welcome. I never heard him complain about the scuffmarks we left on his deep fridges nor did he bark at us when we would chase one another either in, or out of his store.
Women liked Levi's also, for there seemed to be miles and miles of back isle treasures. I explored back there once-sneakers, shoe laces, jeans, work boots, fishing twine, knives, cutlery, clocks, towels, dish clothes, cups, plates and saucers-whatever you could be looking for was there. Somewhere.
My very first experience with the delights of a surprise punch board was at Levi’s shop. You could punch a circled numbered spot on the box and get a gift for a quarter. Once, I got a haircutting kit. I proudly brought it to my aunt who proceeded to try and tame the frizzy locks on the head of her eldest son. It worked-kind of.
As time passed and times grew tough, other stores began to close. Levi held in there, but before long the building was too run down and the locals had dwindled in numbers. I believe his daughter ran it for a while but soon It wasn’t worth the time or money to fix it up. Levi's closed its doors for good.
As I enjoyed my own days here as a local shopkeeper I tried to keep the memory of Levi alive by welcoming the youngsters, but my father-and business partner- felt a little differently. Perhaps lost to him were the memories of Levi and his fiscally smart welcoming of local children and their often loose spending habits or maybe he just didn't have the patience. One evening while I was working my son and his buddies hung out in the store. The sight of a Lifestyle condom box behind the counter got them in the fits. I finally hid the package from view to calm them down a little. “What’s the big deal?!” one young fella challenged me- hand on hip, chin jutted out in youthful defiance. “I sees that kinda stuff ALL the time. My dad has those Lifesavers at our house, you know!”
I didn’t give in. (Though I did have a good ‘ole chuckle.)
With one silly-stimulant removed from view, the boys soon focused on another- the feminine hygiene product shelf. While some of them perched on the deep fridges along the back wall, others tried to reach the somewhat highly hidden boxes of mysterious strangeness.
I couldn’t help but think to my Levi days-back when such products were kept hidden behind the counter and were (questionably) discretely passed out over the counter in a waxy brown paper sack. We would all get the giggles. Couldn’t help ourselves-the same way these young fellas couldn’t control their own case of the sillies.
One customer who visited that evening found it necessary to inform my father of “the goin's on” upon his return. My father was a tad contrary. “Shouldn’t be permitted,” he barked. “Kids don’t belong in a place of business,” he stated. I reminded him of the days when times were different, back in Levi’s day. But he was having none of it.
The same father that used to laugh at the shenanigans of the local youngsters-his own five included-from the other side of the counter- no longer felt a local shop was the place for such foolishness.
Times had changed, he told me a little more kindly. They sure had.
Like so many things in childhood that seemed so much sweeter then than now, hanging out around a local outport store was simply one more thing to add to the list.
I had some things to accept.
The best buys, the best b’ys- and the best times- were at Levi’s.

All Things Elia

2008-12-06T05:38:00.000-05:00

Since the Independent has folded the question I have been asked the most, outside of 1) when will/will it, start up again, and 2) can I find your column anywhere else, is; how are things with the new baby.

I never mind pausing to fill old Indy readers in on the latest regarding my family. I love chatting about my kids. Who doesn't? About the other two questions? I often tell them I'm looking into it.

Our daughter Elia Blair (or Elliot, as my mother-in-law has called her when the name temporarily escapes her name-cluttered mind) was born three days early, via cesarean section, on July 16th . Weighing in at 8pds 60z she seemed so tiny, especially when compared to our first born who had weighed almost 11pds at birth and was ready to push up and roll over from the get go.
We weren’t sure if Blair would make the early delivery time as he wasn’t scheduled to return from Alberta until the 18th-the day I was originally scheduled for surgery-but the baby kept registering a low heart rate and my doctor wasn’t prepared to wait. Blair arrived at our outport home just as I was heading out to drive myself to the hospital. The surgery wasn’t until the next morning but because of the low heart rate and my distance from the hospital I had to go the day before and spend the night.
Blair and Brody were in the hospital room as I was wheeled out for surgery the next morning. Blair left to scrub-up so he could accompany me in the O.R. and Brody stayed back in the room, immersed in the many breast-feeding videos-especially the one titled Breast is Best. We knew he would be contentedly occupied.
Tragically (or not) I had forgotten all about the horror that accompanies a spinal. By the time I reached the C-Section stage on Brody 11 years ago I had been given every drug imaginable, a week had passed and I had simply been through so much that recalling the details of something so close to the end of the process was impossible. I seemed to remember it being a needle in the back, but it seemed so minor at the time in comparison to everything else. I was rolled into OR stone cold sober this time around and lets just say I damn near died when I realized what the doctor was doing. To the hospitals credit the anesthesiologist (God love him, he was a doll and a half and a half again over) had tried to tell me about the process the evening before the surgery but I, being Little Miss I-Know-Everything-Been-Here-Before, told him I had no questions and we didn’t need to go there. He had me sign some papers, gave me a hug and a kiss (yes, he was that sweet) and left.
I gave him a bit of a hard time in the OR but he-and the very firm, forceful-you ain’t getting’-no-kisses-from-us-til-you-cooperate nurses finally calmed me down enough for him to insert the needle. I was drugged and before long, quite comfortable numb.
At 9:11 our daughter was delivered. She was poked in front of my face for a few moments then rushed off-with Blair tight behind, to meet her big brother.
Things were great right from the start. Elia took right to the breast, and (thank God) she slept well. Blair had to return to Alberta a week later so the fact that she went down for the night at seven and didn’t stir until around 3:30 was a blessing. She never slept much in the day, but that worked out quite well and before long I was back into our summer routine. Brody didn’t miss much in the way of beach days. I think she was the youngest to ever grace the beaches of both Salmon Cove in Trinity Bay and Golden Sands in Fortune Bay.
Elia remained a doll until November 10th. I was in town doing interviews for a piece I was working on for The Herald and my sister-in-law and brother-in-law were babysitting for a few hours. She gave them a bit of a hard time, which was odd for her as she usually settled quite comfortable with family. The next morning we realized why-she had two teeth where only gums had been. Nights haven’t been that great since and while she has (on occasion) gone back to her old schedule, she usually wakes for a feed and a cuddle about every three hours throughout the night. She still doesn’t sleep much throughout the day. She is usually quite pleasant and easy going or as I like to say, pleasantly plump. And plump she is. At her four month check-up she weighed in at a whopping 21 pounds.
Life is certainly different yet delightful. Being covered in baby droll and the occasional milky spit-up hasn’t been that hard to adjust to and Blair, when he’s home, is quite an involved father. If he had a set of tits he’d feed her but beyond that there isn’t anything he won’t do. And Brody has taken to being a big brother with amazing ease. He loves his little sister and only stresses out when she cries and fusses during the occasional car ride. It’s funny-she can only handle a one-way drive. If we drive three hours to the city she’s fine the entire time, but we better be staying put once we get there-or else! The ride to Marystown (an hour) is always pleasant but the ride back is usually a nightmare and dealing with a fussy infant in a confined space is rather hard on even the most steady nerved individual. “If we get her nutered will she be any better?” Brody asked on one particularly challenging car ride home, referring to the imminent de-nutting of his quite hyper and sometime difficult to control puppy.
I told him I’d look into it.

EI EI Owe

2008-12-06T04:13:00.000-05:00

It ain’t looking-or feeling-much like Christmas around our house this year. At least not yet. Hubby returned home from out west just in time to start school on October 18th. The day he arrived I went online and filed for his EI. I wasn’t taking any chances. Blair is part of an apprenticeship program which means most school costs are covered and he is eligible to receive EI while in school. The intensive program lasts eight weeks and he has to leave home-during the week at least-to participate. While hubby has been on EI before, we have never had the nightmare with it we are having now. As of today we have not receive one red cent -or one greenish/brown cheque. The problem? The US-based company hubby worked for can’t seem to grasp the concept of a ROE. While we certainly aren’t ain’t-got-no-pot-to-piss-in broke, it sure would be nice to have some cash flow around this time of year. While I do have most of the necessities purchased I have to admit that waiting is awfully stressful. About two weeks ago hubby finally took things into his own hands and faxed each and every pay stub he’s had since March into the Employment Insurance office. Each and every day he would call into that 1-800 number to hear that a decision had not yet been made on his claim. In the meantime he is traveling back and forth-over six hours round trip-each week, leaving his family to attend school. Thank God gas prices are low right now.
Finally this week the message stated that a decision would be made by December 5th but low and behold, on the 5th the message was changed again. They now needed even more time to process his claim.
Hubby left school and headed directly to the EI office in town (mainly because I had a major bitch-fit and threatened to slaughter him if he didn’t finally get this straightened out) to see what the hell was on the go now. By the way, if anyone has ever used the 1-800 number to get any type of an answer beyond what the recorded message says let me know because we got nowhere.
So, down he goes and is getting nowhere (again) until he utters the magic words, “financial hardship.” Blair was escorted in to see a manager who took a look at everything and assured him he would have his cheques-all of them, each and every glorious one owed to him-by early next week.
We’ll see.
Having very little in the way of cash flow in a year we have committed to go credit-free at Christmas has been a challenge. We only cheated once (ok twice) so far. Once on my winter tires (if that counts) and another on an item I ordered from eBay.
I can only imagine that this has happened to other people and I wonder what you do? Blair was told that uttering “financial hardship,“ would get the ball rolling so I’m passing that tip on to others. If there are any other tips or tricks-or horror stories, feel free to share your own. By the way, hubby received a copy of his ROE from his company just this week. EI still hasn’t received it.
And me? I’m waiting for the cash to come in and then look out for a flash. That will be me heading out to pay bills and finish up my holiday shopping.

Stuff

2008-12-05T12:13:00.000-05:00

VOCM is now providing Fort McMurray news updates-just heard it today. Have I missed it before or is that new?

More from VOCM:

The Great Big GiveDecember 5, 2008A group of Newfoundlanders and Labradorians living in Toronto are holding a benefit concert for Daffodil Place this weekend. The Great Big Give on Saturday night will be hosted by Mary Walsh and will feature Great Big Sea, along with a silent auction and dance. The event is organized by the Smiling Land Foundation. Great Big Sea Band Member and Daffodil Place spokesperson Alan Doyle says the response has been overwhelming and he expects it to be a big night in T-O.

Our Divas Do BroadwayDecember 5, 2008The premiere performance of this season's Our Divas Do Broadway hits the stage at Mile One Centre this evening. The fifth annual show is being staged in support of Daffodil Place and Co-Producer Sheilagh Guy Murphy says Broadway fans will enjoy polished performances of their musical favorites. Murphy says the show takes about a year to put together and it is much like the Radio City Music Hall shows. She says it is a huge undertaking. Featured in the show, which runs all this weekend, are songs from Phantom of the Opera, Chicago, Cats, Rent and more. Tickets are available at the Mile One Box Office.

***Go Cousin Clint B! Will miss you this year with baby and all but I will be back looking for you next year.

Elderly Woman RobbedDecember 5, 2008Police are investigating a purse-snatching near a strip mall on Kenmount Road in St. John's. RNC say two teenagers ran up behind an elderly woman and grabbed her purse during supper hour last night. The purse contained an undisclosed amount of cash. The woman was not hurt.

***I can't believe that happens here. I was chased by would-be robbers while I was in Nashville a few years back. I escape them a novel way-I got myself hit by a car. Not the best option, but it worked.

Have Job? Will Travel

2008-12-05T12:03:00.000-05:00

Blair is supposed to go back to work in Alberta January 3rd, but I really wonder if that will happen;

(Gawd I hate EI living)

Canadian Press: Canada loses 70,600 jobs in a month, most since 1982: unemployment 6.3 per cent
http://www.google.com/hostednews/canadianpress/article/ALeqM5h36Jc4MqN976wSOaAcKitw3j3T5g

Swelling ranks of Canadian workers fell victim to the slowing economy last month as the country chopped 70,600 employees - 66,000 in Ontario - the most since the deep recession of 1982. Statistics Canada said Friday the job losses lifted the official unemployment rate to 6.3 per cent, from 6.2 per cent in October. The labour force had been holding out against the deteriorating economy - which many believe has entered a recession - but November's rout came as somewhat of a surprise.

The consensus among economists had been for a 20,000 labour force retreat, and even the most pessimistic had put the losses in the 40,000 range. November's result cut deeply in the job creation record for the year, bringing the accumulated gain to 133,000, well below's last year's 361,000 January-through-November improvement. The battered manufacturing sector was mostly responsible for the job bleeding in Ontario with a decline of 42,000. That took the factory sector's share of employment in the province to 13 per cent - down from 18.2 per cent six years ago. Overall, there were 38,000 fewer factory workers in Canada, as there was a slight net gain in the category in other provinces.

But then some local news in the trades;

Education Minister Joan Burke says recent changes to the journeyperson to apprentice ratio in the province will give greater flexibility to employers, and will increase the number of people able to gain valuable worksite training. Burke says government has accepted the recommendation of the Provincial Apprenticeship and Certification Board to allow for a final year apprentice to be hired. That's in addition to each journeyperson apprentice ratio an employer currently has. Burke says if the current ratio is already with a final year apprentice, the employer can hire a first, second or third year apprentice. She says this further adds to the province's initiatives for skilled labour enhancement which has seen a 15 per cent increase in the number of apprentices since 2007 and 35 per cent increase in the number of women involved in non traditional trades since 2004. The Official Opposition and the NDP both applaud the decision as recognition of the need for training in the province.

Further to this: http://www.releases.gov.nl.ca/releases/2008/edu/1203n08.htm

On the Pill

2008-12-05T11:07:00.001-05:00

My husband forgot my birthday this year. Well, he didn’t so much forget it-confused the Friday it fell on is more like it and I do take some of the blame. I thought my birthday fell the Friday before the St. John’s Santa Claus Parade and we had big plans for that weekend as Blair and Brody were going to be clowns this year. About a week before the 21st (my birthday) I realized the parade was going to be held the weekend after, and not the weekend of, my birthday. I made the plan changes and I didn’t make a big deal about it. I figured I knew, that was good enough, right? Blair was too busy with school to pay too much attention anyway and the only change for him was that he would be coming home to the Harbour instead of me going into town to meet him on my birthday weekend. Clear as mud, right? Well, those plan changes triggered something in his brain that led him to believe he had an entire week longer than he actual had to pick me up a little something for my birthday.
He didn’t realize his blunder until he picked up the paper later that afternoon and noticed the date. He was already in Goobies and, besides grabbing a bottle of wine, had nothing for me.
When my son came home from school and realized what had happened he bared himself in his room and made me a card. Using items he has picked up on our many beach walks, he constructed a card covered in shells and whores eggs (hope that wasn’t a hint of some sort-but that’s a blog for another day) and wrote the sweetest words;
Mom, you are my greatest treasure
The day was saved.
Naturally, I told everyone I knew about my precious card. I even posted the details on my Facebook site. My son wasn’t thrilled with that. His friends began to ask him about the card and, to save face, he informed them that they were mistaken. Yes, he had made that card for me on my birthday, he admitted, only the event hadn’t happened this year, but five years ago, when he was in grade 1.
Brody gave me a heads up. “Mom,” he said, “if anyone asks you about it again say it happened back then, ok?”
I wasn’t pleased.
I already told everyone it was this year, I told him, adding that my friends would think me nuts talking about a card I received so many years ago and passing it off as this years gift.
“It’s ok mom, I got that covered,” he told me with a smirk.
I looked at him, waiting.
“I told all my friends your on pills and get confused sometimes,” he said.
He figured it wouldn’t take long for word of my pill use/confusion to get around thus helping him save face.
Smart kid.
Though I did get back at him in my own special way later that week. I sent him into our local drug store when it was filled with people looking for something special for me, something I knew he would have to ask for help to find. I needed some Midol.
He wasn’t too happy to discover I had sent him in to buy “vagina pills.” That’ll teach him.

Lost Wa??

2008-12-05T08:43:00.000-05:00

I have a friend who left her new born home alone. No lie. She was behind me in the line up at Wal-Mart when she made this startling confession. This friend, who has two older children as well, had been in a panic to get out the door. With one child in school and another at grandmas she was rushing around trying to get organized before she left for the day. Baby was supposed to accompany her on errands that day but never quite made it. My friend remembered her purse, her list and her head. She just forgot the baby.
Well, she more than forgot him tragic truth be told. The baby didn’t merely slip her mind for one fleeting instant. She scarcely remembered she had one at all, not until she ran into someone who inquired about the new baby that is. By then she was a few stops into her errands and in a wild panic. I can’t remember who she said she called to go get the forgotten baby, but it was someone who didn’t judge her too badly-most likely another mother. Baby was sleeping soundly when found and was none the worse for being left alone.
She isn’t the only person I know who did something like this. Another couple were sitting around on a Friday night and got it into their heads to go out for a movie. Only problem was they had a baby girl they had brought home from the hospital a few evenings before. Baby had gone to bed easily and early for once and they had the evening to themselves. This couple got ready, climbed into their car and were out of the drive before remembering they had a baby at home asleep.
Now that I have a new baby myself I’ve become quite concerned I might actually slip up and forget her. On crazy days I write “baby” on my calendar-and often my hand-just in case. Silly? Maybe, but there’s a name for such parental lapses- Momnesia. Momnesia- when you are standing in the shower and have absolutely no idea how long you've been in there and what you've washed. Momnesia-when you finally finish that morning shower and accidentally put your pajamas back on.
Dr. Louann Brizendine, author of the book “The Female Brain,” says the condition is brought on by the wildly fluctuating flood of hormones that accompanies pregnancy, childbirth and breast-feeding.
All that stuff alters brain chemistry, she writes, modifying the way the brain works.
Makes sense. I’ve missed so many formerly familiar turn offs that going anywhere can now take me twice as long. I’ve gotten my son up for school on a Sunday- twice. I forgot to pick my husband up at the airport the last time he flew in on a turn around-and that’s why I was in St. John’s in the first place. Just this morning I tossed a load of clothes from the dryer back into the washing machine. Momnesia at its finest.
Since giving birth this time around-and quite possibly during pregnancy, only I can’t seem to remember back that far-I’ve generally been a mindless wreck. A case of authentic Momnesia or is it more than that? Ever hear the phrase; having children makes you stupid? If not then you either don’t have children or you have them and are too stupid to remember that you heard that saying before. Sometimes I think stupid describes my actions (or lack thereof) better than the more water down label of Momnesia.
Or maybe stund is more appropriate. Yes, stund. Like the stundness I felt sitting down to write this column.
It’s been a little over three months since I wrote my last column for The Independent (may she rest in piece) and I swear on all that is holy that I didn’t have a clue how to go about beginning. It isn’t just the time lag, trust me. It goes well beyond that.
I looked up some research on the brain and memory for this column. Besides the stuff on Momnesia I found something else of interest. Researchers at the University of Lausanne discovered a downside to being smart-thus, by default, an advantage to being dumb.
Flies were divided into two groups. Half were left in a natural state while the other half had their intelligence boosted using Pavlovian-like methods.
Over a few generations they found these flies actually began to learn things and seemed to remember things longer. Imagine? Smarter flies. But there was a downside; these smart flies died off quicker than their simple-brained relates with the stund outliving the brainy by some 30 days-quite significant, if your a fly.
To put it simply, (for Momnesia/stund moms like me) stupid flies live longer.
Somehow I feel a little better. Though I hardly remember why I felt bad in the first place. Now, where did I put that baby?

When ya just gotta go

2008-12-05T07:34:00.000-05:00

Got Brody’s report card the other day and go figure-the kid needs help with language. Like the bakers son having no bread, the writers kid can’t write. I figured a good way to help him out would be to make him write something each and every evening. “Keep a journal,” I told him. I reminded him that while he was free to write whatever he wanted; I wouldn’t punish him or be hurt if he wrote something that was less that flattering to me, for instance; I did have to read it in order to correct it. So, it was a non-private, private journal.
The first night he struggled with what to write about. I tried to help by encouraging him to write about the best or most interesting part of his day. That shouldn’t be too difficult, I told him, since most days ends with me asking him that very same question. Instead telling me, he had to write it out instead. The first journal entry was about music class, he is learning to play guitar. Innocent enough, right? Somewhat, though he did manage to get in a few digs in the writing process. One of his guitar strings is broken and I keep forgetting to pick it up from school to get it fixed. “…there are guitars for kids who don’t have one and I used one of them because one of my strings is broken.” Fair enough. I made arrangements to have the string fixed the next day.
Yesterday’s journal entry was much more entertaining. I knew I was in for a chuckle when I read the first line; “Today at Wal-Mart I had to shit really bad…”
To frame the situation a little let me start by saying that while Blair is home from away he is actually only here on weekends; he is on the Avalon at school during the week . So, as things are tough with a 18 week-old baby I do tend to rely on my 11 year-old son from time to time. One of the times I call on him is while I am in therapy for my arm and shoulder. I am usually there for about an hour and it isn’t far from Wal-Mart so once a week I drop the two of them off-or they walk if the weather is nice, while I get poked and prodded. Brody is given financial compensation for a job well done and Elia usually sleeps as soon as he walks her around a bit. There have been no problems-up to now anyway.
Here is yesterdays journal entry;
Today at Wal-Mart had to shit really bad but I couldn’t because I had my annoying baby sister Elia with me. After a half hour it was coming out of my ass as fast as a train coming out of a tunnel so I had no choice but to go into the boys washroom!?! I went to check to see if anyone was in there, the coast was clear so I ran in, opened the stall door, looked in, dropped my pants and dropped my nuclear bomb on Japan. I pulled Elia facing my way. As soon as I did that someone came in the bathroom and Elia started making bubble and coughing noises. I had to keep her quiet by making funny faces and clicking noises. She kept that up for like ten times. I was finally done, I opened the door as fast as I could and went out and bought myself a Lego Indiana Jones set . Well, that was the most interesting part of my day. How was yours?

Better Than You-Know-What

2008-09-08T07:27:00.000-04:00

http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/cbc/080908/canada/stjohns_westcott_conservatives_1

Well now, talk about an exciting campaign, right from the get go! We now have both Ryan Cleary and a former co-worker of his, Craig Westcott, running for a Federal seat. This is the most excitement I've had in my outport life for at least 15 days (hubby home again in five)

Wonder how the hunters will handle being the hunted down the road when the spotlight is on them? Cleary is not a man to buckle under pressure and from what I hear (and read) neither is Westcott.

What an election this is shaping up to be.

Like me ma used to say...better than sex my dear, better than sex!

ST..JOHNS (CBC) - A journalist who has often been a thorn in Danny Williams's side will represent the Conservatives in St. John's East, in part to challenge the Newfoundland and Labrador premier.
Craig Westcott, who publishes the Business Post newspaper and who is a commentator for CBC Radio, said he made the decision last week over Williams's "anyone but Conservative" platform, in which the premier is encouraging Newfoundland and Labrador voters to boycott Conservative candidates in the Oct. 14 election.
Williams has been furious with Prime Minister Stephen Harper since 2006, when Harper walked away from written election promises to exclude non-renewable resources - which include Newfoundland and Labrador's offshore energy reserves - from the equalization formula.
Westcott, who has sparred with Williams for years, said voters should be careful about the consequences of following Williams's advice on the so-called ABC campaign.
"Who is going to speak for Newfoundland and Labrador if we have nobody inside that government?" Westcott said.
"It's just - I think it's unconscionable on the premier's part to put Newfoundland in that very, very weak position," said Westcott, who nonetheless said his campaign will be based on running for the Conservative Party of Canada, not against Danny Williams.
Williams, who led his Progressive Conservatives to a landslide victory in last October's provincial election, has vowed to deliver a "big goose egg" to the federal Tories.
In part because of Williams's ABC campaign, federal Conservatives have been unable to find candidates in some ridings, including in St. John's East, currently held by retiring Tory Norm Doyle.
In fact, Westcott did not make a decision about running until he interviewed Doyle last Thursday.
"And then there was this big pregnant pause, this moment, where, you know, we both kind of realized that I would be a good candidate for this federal election," said Westcott.
A former reporter with the St. John's Telegram, Westcott has often written critically of Williams and his governing style at the Business Post, as well as with regular radio commentaries. He said he had been considering a political run for a while, and made the decision after no one else stepped forward.
"Someone has to bite the bullet," he said.
Westcott will face Liberal candidate Walter Noel, a former provincial cabinet minister.
The New Democrats have not yet nominated a candidate, although former provincial NDP leader Jack Harris - who represented St. John's East in the House of Commons for a year after winning a 1987 byelection - is expected to seek the party's nomination.
Meanwhile, the Conservatives appear to have lined up a candidate for the adjacent riding of St. John's South-Mount Pearl, which is represented by retiring Fisheries Minister Loyola Hearn.
Merv Wiseman, president of the Newfoundland and Labrador Federation of Agriculture, is poised to become the party's candidate, sources said. When contacted by CBC News, Wiseman would neither confirm nor deny that he will run in the election.
Westcott is not the only St. John's journalist running in the general election. Ryan Cleary, editor of the St. John's Independent, which closed this summer, is representing the NDP in St. John's South-Mount Pearl.

The Current: The Demise of The Independent; Ryan Cleary

2008-09-07T06:59:00.000-04:00

http://www.currentmag.ca/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/curretnv10_issue18-3.pdf

FALL OF THE
INDEPENDENT
Ryan Cleary, former
editor-in-chief of the upstart
weekly,on why the paper
hasn't risen from the dead
(again).
First of a two-part series
For all its fighting Newfoundlander guts and
glory, after four and a half years The Independent
went down in mid July with barely a whimper. Or
so it must have seemed, the paper's apparent
gentle slide into that good night.
Behind the scenes attempts were made for weeks
to revive the newspaper. At least three parties
were eager to invest, and one group was interested
in stepping in and taking over, but no one was
prepared to pay publisher/owner Brian Dobbin
$250,000, his asking price.
They saw the amount as out of the question for a
money-losing newspaper. According to Dobbin's
own numbers, The Independent lost more than
$2 million under his wing, and while losses had
leveled off and the break-even point was within
reach, the paper was still operating in the red
when it went down.
Some people saw the high price tag as Dobbin's
way of ensuring that no one succeeds where he
did not. Dobbin, nephew of business legend
Craig Dobbin, is best known for Humber Valley
Resort just east of Corner Brook, which recently
announced layoffs under a major restructuring
plan. Dobbin is no longer directly involved with
his west coast brainchild, or his other business
baby, cod farming, and has become bitter about
the province's overall business atmosphere.
To quote his front-page column in the paper's
final issue on July 18th: "Newfoundland and
Labrador is a barren place to try to grow significant
industry."
In a recent column for the Northeast Avalon
Times, Ray Guy, who wrote a once-a-month column
for The Independent, said the paper suffered
from the "heir to the Dobbin millions playing
newspaper dilettante -hey look, I'm a newspaper
owner."
Some rich guys buy nice cars, Brian Dobbin
bought himself a newspaper. All flash and pink,
white and green colour. There may have been a
bit of that, but there were deeper motivations.
Dobbin, a closet journalist, got into the newspaper
business partly out of a passion to expose the
Hibernia story and the tens of millions of dollars
that were wasted on the construction project in
the mid-1990s. Cost overruns had to be paid off
before governments saw any real royalties. And
those overruns were said to be ridiculous and
massive.
Dobbin's biggest disappointment with The
Independent (besides the fact it didn't break even
before he ran out of cash), may have been the
fact the paper didn't crack the Hibernia story. We
got a piece of Terra Nova - including details of a
1998 meeting between former premier Brian
Tobin and oil executive Dick Cheney, who went on
to become vice-president of the United States, to
"trade off" gold-collar engineering jobs - but that
apparently was only the tip of the iceberg.
From my perspective, I say that Dobbin put a high
price on the paper to ensure that any new owner
was serious about the newspaper business.
Dobbin told me he didn't want to see the paper
flounder for a few months after a quick cash
injection only to close again. The paper meant
too much to him for the death to be drawn out.
The expensive asking price would take care of
that.
The owner of a start-up newspaper must have two
things: money and patience. The owners of The
Independent have had neither.
The paper was all set to close in March 2004 -
five short months after it first opened - because it
ran out of money. What the hell were the owners
thinking?
Dobbin came in at that point, but he cut off his
support and closed the paper just over two years
later in April 2006. The paper reopened a week
later with an appeal for public support by the editorial
department.
Dobbin lost $250,000 between then and when
the paper closed this past July. It's that money he
wanted repaid with any takeover. I personally
made a formal request to buy the rights to the
masthead for $25,000, but Dobbin turned me
down flat, saying an offer that "in some way deals
with the most recent $250,000 loan I have given
to the newspaper may be better received."
And so here we are today. The Independent's
office equipment has been sold and the pink,
white and green decals have been peeled from
The Independent jeep. I have looked at starting a
new weekly paper from scratch - I'm fond of The
Guardian for a name - but was unable to attract
the necessary money and patience.
Newspapers are dying out, this is a common
refrain. I don't agree. The Saturday Telegram is
worth its weight in gold and there's money to be
made.
A week after The Independent closed, Geoff
Stirling, owner of the NTV/OZ FM empire/dimension,
called me to offer his condolences. But he
said he was confused and couldn't figure out The
Independent's mandate. "Seriously buddy, was
the paper's purpose to be a voice or to make
money?"
"Both," I said, but I've been thinking about my
answer ever since.
The Independent was often complimented about
its look and feel, about the columnists and stories
that called it home. But the paper couldn't be
considered a success until it held its own financially.
We were getting there; circulation was up by
almost 10 per cent when the paper closed. There
was a hell of a lot more work to be done, and the
staff was up to the challenge, only the horse got
shot out from under us.
Part two of the series will focus on the challenges
that faced The Independent, and the measures
taken by Transcontinental, the Quebec-based
chain that owns most newspapers in the province,
to protect its monopoly.
Ryan Cleary is the former editor-in-chief of The
Independent.
rryancleary@gmail.com