Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better and so does kindness

Month: November 2013 Page 1 of 2

Which Grinch Is Stealing Christmas?

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On November 27, 2013

In Kamloops

(Originally published as a column in the Saturday edition of the Kamloops Daily News under the same title on November 23, 2013)

It was always only on Nov. 15 that we would listen to carols, when some started observing the Christmas Fast. The first snow would come around that time, too, as if some well-timed snow lever was pressed at the right time.

At the beginning of December, trees were bought and tucked away on porches or in the backyard until Christmas Eve; there were wishes circulated from children to parents, but most of all, there was a lot of sledding and snow tumbling until cheeks were red and cold at the end of each day. Snow fun reigned supreme and that was that.

A few days before Christmas, we baked vanilla-scented goodies, and on Christmas Eve we pulled out the old cardboard box filled with decorations to adorn the tree.

I still have a couple of those decorations, as my sister and I split them when the old house was sold. I have since built a tree-decorations box of my own. Every single decoration has a story.

Some the boys made at school or in art classes, some we made together at home, and some were gifted by close friends. The latest acquisitions, glass-made and hand painted by someone in Colombia, were bought from the thrift store ran by the RIH Auxiliary volunteers.

As Christmas approaches, flyers get plump with ads telling of decorations and lights and gifts and kitchenware to cook and bake in, and thermal gravy boats that will keep your gravy at a good yummy temperature, and, if you want, you can scratch the golden dust-covered area at the bottom of the page to see if you won a discount. Nothing? Try again next week, you never know.

And if you want outdoor lights, but are tired of climbing ladders and untangling lights, a patented holographic laser light projector will create the illusion of lights without the effort.

But the effort is what makes it all special. We tell our children that when we work for something, we value the accomplishment even more. Things that happen with no effort are easily forgotten.

Sure, putting up lights may get frustrating when tangles get in the way. Baking takes time and effort. Cutting the turkey with a regular carving knife versus the battery-activated one takes effort, too; as for the cold gravy, I don’t think it’s a deal breaker; you simply warm it up.

Holidays are what they are because people kept at it, efforts or tangles notwithstanding. The spirit of Christmas is not brightened by someone’s ingenious way of marketing a product.

If anything, ‘tis the season to be giving, and that applies to all that we do. More than ever, we need to remind ourselves that ‘no effort’ means ‘no joy.’ I’d rather have the boys learn about tangled wires and burnt cookies than not have the memory of anything that made my many Christmas seasons memorable.

‘Tis the season to be giving is more than a slogan. The recent typhoon in the Philippines is a cruel reminder of how we cannot ignore the reality of climate change, some of which is caused by the many trucks rolling into our cities bringing more and more goods meant to make our lives easier and better and more sparkling at Christmas at the expense of those we don’t see, and whose world we positively wreck as we wreck ours — one new seasonal item at a time.

Before you buy another new seasonal-themed product, be it an inflatable ready-decorated doghouse with an inflatable dog glued to it, or an inflatable, illuminated Santa you don’t really need, or another battery-activated thing that will create the illusion of snowflakes (yes, it exists) think about the one thing that matters: Keeping it real.

Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, snowflakes are snowflakes and they are not meant to be holograms.

Better yet, set that money aside for the Christmas Cheer Fund and make someone’s holidays brighter. Yours will brighten in response.

By the way, the hottest colour of the season is berry pink, one of the flyers says. Followed by “Ornaments and lights are available for you in hundreds of options.”

To which I dare say this: the Grinch is no longer green but berry pink and he’s stealing Christmas.

The Undeniable Truth About Our Environment

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On November 26, 2013

In Environment

?A documentary aptly titled “Toxic Hot Seat” aired yesterday on HBO Channel. While I have yet to watch it, I have researched the topic (flame retardants) extensively for a feature article a while ago. They are a vile bunch of chemicals.

Just like so many other environmental toxic substances, flame retardants are so pervasive in today’s world that it comes down to this: If you are alive, you have them in your body. And if you do, then you may, at some point in your life, experience the plethora of health problems that come with them. Flame retardants accumulate in your body and unless you move to Mars, and soon, there’s no escaping building your own supply of them.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

Here are some required facts about flame retardants:

  • Flame retardants are used, well, to retard the onset of a fire. Chemically speaking, these substances are called polybrominated diphenyl ethers (PBDEs.) The people who come most in contact with them are firefighters of course, but more and more studies point to all of us being exposed to them because of their ubiquitous presence around us.
  • PBDEs are found in mattresses, electronics, carpets, curtains, and sadly, even in children’s pajamas. They are found in the dust you have in your home (unless you live to vacuum, which you should not because life is too short for that.)  Regardless of your vacuuming habits though, gone are the days when dust bunnies were just a sign of a bohemian lifestyle or a rushed one. Now they’re the harbingers of health problems because of the chemicals they house within their fluffiness.
  • Chemicals used as flame retardants affect the reproductive system and the brain (they affect learning, memory, behavior and cause deficits in motor skills,) and they increase the risk of various types of cancer. In short, bad news.

I’ve written about these chemicals a while ago. I said then that the ones who get it bad are children. It’s true. Due to their growing bodies and propensity to jump on couches, crawl on the floors and take in more breaths than us adults, more chemicals per body weight enter their bodies and that is a sad reality. Not only flame retardants but many others.

Though many companies do plan to phase out flame retardants in some of their products, one has to wonder about history repeating itself. Many chemicals that were phased out due to their ill effects on human health, wildlife and the environment  (think DDT, PCBs,) have yet to disappear from our surroundings. In other words, a 30-year-old ban may have prevented more chemicals from being dumped upon us, but the ones already here are here to stay for a few more decades. Present-day chemicals such as flame retardants and others such as plasticizers are no different.

Some could argue that such is the price of comfortable, practical and safe goods. “Safe” according to the industry promoting and encouraging the use of these chemicals, not safe from an unbiased, evidence-based and responsible perspective. A terrible and sad case of abusing a concept, you’d have to agree.

It should not be this way. In a considerate world, people’s health and well-being should come before money.

Flame retardants and many invisible yet powerful chemicals we all breathe and eat today should be assessed at face value and given proper consideration.

The environment changes slowly and subtly, yet the manifestations of those changes are displayed dramatically, some more than others.

  • The number of children suffering from environmental allergies as well as asthma are increasing year after year; same for asthma. There are more and more people suffering from what it’s called multiple chemical sensitivity, a disease that is somewhat controversial due to a difficulty in establishing a clear connection between symptoms and causes. While the debate goes on, some people are affected by the same environment that leaves many of us unscathed (for now.) In the meantime, more public buildings adopt a fragrance-free policy in order to reduce the effects of exposure to fragrances and similar substances that many people are sensitive to.
  • More children than ever display signs of what is slowly becoming “yesterday news,” such as hyperactivity and ADHD, learning disabilities, and autism. Again, easy to overlook if you’re not in the thick of it. Not to say that all causes of above-mentioned issues are caused by the collective chemicals that keep adding to the environmental burden, but if multiple studies point to a clear link in some cases, or a putative connection, in others, perhaps it is wise and responsible to look at it objectively and take the appropriate measures.
  • Endocrine imbalances translate in infertility and other hormone-related health issues including breast cancer, a chronic affection that was deemed environmental in many cases.
  • Cancer attacks indiscriminately nowadays and that’s both sad and scary. Cancer used to be a disease of old age, but that is no longer the case. Also, cancer used to be associated with doing this or that (fill in with various “bad for you” activities such as smoking) but nowadays living seems to be associated with a moderate to high risk of cancer. It should not be like that.

The only big problem with all of these issues is that there are no big bad monsters with clearly defined contours for us to point at. Invisible chemicals used extensively and in high amounts to the financial benefit of industrial giants are not an easy enemy to defeat. Books have been written and environmental scientists are working hard at gathering evidence that the environment suffers and we will suffer with it but somehow we are a bunch of die-hards who are playing hard to get.

The environment is changing slowly and that gives us reason to say “maybe it’s not that bad after all…” Hardly a good thing. It makes it easier for naysayers to persist in denial, and it makes it easier for many to turn a blind eye. But it also makes it difficult to make changes down the road when we’ll realize the ill effects but by then we’ll be too far in the game and, from many an industry point of view, too costly to change anything.

So what are we to do? For one, become aware of what’s around us. Documentaries, independent studies and talks by people who put human health and the environment before anything else are a great starting point in becoming aware.

Imagine a world with a motto like: Proceed if safe for humans and all forms of life on Earth and the environment.

We come into this world with nothing and we leave like that too. We are thinking, empathetic beings who know right from wrong. I choose to believe that deep down most of us are like that.

Assessing and reassessing our priorities, our needs and wants and also, taking into consideration the needs of others is a matter of maturity. From sharing a home to inhabiting the (only) planet, everyone’s actions will becomes collective consequences. Today’s actions will shape everyone’s tomorrow. I think a good tomorrow would suit everyone.

What do you think?

Stories of Nearby Coffee Shop Charm

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On November 17, 2013

In Life Stories

(Originally published as a column in the Kamloops Daily News on Saturday, November 16, 2013.) 

You know a good place as soon as you enter it.

WarmthIt was Thursday morning; we were the first two customers to sit in the Barnhartvale coffee shop and the big wood stove was quietly churning out heat — an invitation in itself.

We sit next to it and set up the computers. It was a working day, after all.

“A few local people will be here soon for a jamming session,” one of the owners, Carrie, tells us.

I like the quiet and the usual kitchen noises you hear from a kitchen you don’t always see, but there’s something special about witnessing a music morning in Barnhartvale.

We sit and write and the coffee is pleasantly hot.

A few people pour in shortly before 11 and take their seats around the big round table by the window after pulling their guitars out for the jamming.

A few more show up and the first notes fly around the room.

Christmas carols, old songs, interruptions here and there to adjust pace, tone, or to exchange words and jokes and all those “good to be here” looks one would expect.

The group seems so well oiled in creating music, we assume they formed a long time ago.

“It’s their first time like this,” Carrie says.

We write, eat homemade parsnip-and-ginger soup, and music fills all the spaces that would have stayed uselessly empty otherwise.

Music people chatter, other locals step in to warm up over a cup of coffee and to exchange a few words, and writing turns plump and satisfying. I am glad I gave in to the morning invite.

Before leaving, we take a look around the store the coffee shop is adjacent to. Half is old country antique and some has one-of-a-kind fair trade and local art pieces.

In the antique and consignment side of the country store, there is a handmade thick wool sweater with a few moose and evergreen on it. I am hardly the impulse buyer, but this time is different. Every now and then we each give in to a “winter’s on our doorstep” kind of gift and this is mine.

Outside, it smells like winter and feels like it’s about to snow.

We take a stroll through the yard. We’ve seen it before during a drive-through trip in the spring when the coffee shop was still a project and greenness abounded.

PondThere is a pond with edges festooned with dormant water lilies and ruffled-top reeds and a wooden dock in the middle of it. Two mallards with orange feet and a whole lot of confidence make their way out and question our empty hands. The only place where a sense of entitlement doesn’t seem exaggerated.

There is no denial that country charm has dipped its toes in this pond and frolicked about the yard. We’ve seen it in bloom in early spring and we’re not scared by its rather stark autumn appearance, but comforted by its slow pace and leaf-covered paths.

I am partial to quirky coffee shops. I admit it. And though I like walking to my favourite ones in town, the 15-minute drive to and up the windy Barnhartvale road was well worth it.

You know it’s a good place to be when people, who know each other only by virtue of inhabiting the same community, gather to strum a few chords in the warm place that has coffee and homemade lunches — and all the stories and smiles a good host should.

The “Right in the heart of downtown Barnhartvale” sign outside in the parking lot calls it straight.

There’s a heart to it.

 

Goo For Rainy Days

By

On November 15, 2013

In Life Stories

Every couple of weeks I go to Sasha’s class for a science experiment. We make volcanoes, lava lamps, layered sugary rainbows and all things that make science kid-friendly and fun. Lots of it.

Today was goo day. Or slime, if we go by the initial state.

Twenty or so pairs of eyes, wide and curious, watched me mix solutions and held their breaths during the mixing. Slimy polymers ensued and the resemblance with real but oversized green snot made the kids giggle and say eww loudly more times than I can count and everyone wanted to have a turn handling it. Slime can be that inviting.

The children lined up for a chance to hold the droopy goo. And the goo delivered. It drooped, stretched, and spread all over the plastic container. Some got on the floor. Also, I got to scrape it off some twenty or so pairs of fidgety little hands.

Many little voices tweeted the only request that made sense “Can you please write on a piece of paper how to make this at home?” I promised I will.

The substitute teacher (a stern one, Sasha said, though not mean, he clarified,) could not help but smile during the goo rush. Apparently he did not smile all day.

Friday afternoons are usually mellow. They don’t have to be. Ours was a raucous, noisy gooey one. Tempted? You should be. Here you go. Enjoy!

We had an encore at home. Red was the only color we could find, so the goo is an unfortunate pink. But you’ll be spared the visuals. Photos upon request only.

PS: It is past 9 o’clock and the boys are asking for 15 more minutes of goo play. It’s been hours already. Convinced? Let me know how it goes.

 

Heart Strings And Daisies

By

On November 14, 2013

In Life Stories, Motherhood

This morning has been no better or worse than others. In fact, slightly worse because an overnight rain soaked my shoes, which I had forgotten on the porch, yet again. First world problems as I call them.

The boys are cheery and gabby and we manage to leave the house on time with no altercations and no delays that make us run and jump over sidewalks like a group of sun-scared bats on the way to the first deep dark cave (no negative reference to school or maybe just a small one?…)

So we walk. There’s chatter and silliness and loud “No, no, I’ll say it. Mom, listen to this…” and some of last night’s toilet jokes on replay. Some are that good, according to 11-year-olds and under.

Hold hands, small hugging palms hiding in mine and if I hold stronger than I should is because I know the jumpy nature of such holds. They go poof before you realize it. So hold on while they last.

A sparrow hops from between some cigarette butts on one side of a chicken-wire fence to wet sand on the other. She’s round and fluffy and the hopping is exquisite. Elegant and light and we’re spellbound.

Toilet jokes are forgotten. We stare. She stares back. Hops. Stares. A hand squeeze but this time it is not me. It’s the small hand making me heed the bird and its exquisite tiny feet. “Mom, isn’t she cute?”

I am struck again by how we attach ourselves to memories of no particular day or place. Muck, sand, a brownish bird and five more minutes until school starts. All wrapped up in a forgetfulness-proof mental package that will never be stamped with the awkward “when was that again?”

The day rolls into a big fat cinnamon-tinted cocoon of a sunset with a glued-on ghost-white moon and when night comes I know of the one thing I learned about today. “No special day” memories, or no-planning-to-acquire-memories-but-did-it-anyway kind of day.

Heart stringsAnd I know of two things that will never leave my prized possessions box (not that I have one, but I will think of one) and those are: a string of no particular glamour that Sasha has loved and played with since the dollopy days of toddlerhood and he still holds dear, and a pressed little daisy which Tony gave me one day at a park that has long disappeared off the Vancouver map. It was drizzly and cold and ten years ago and a late daisy made it from his tiny fingers into my heart and journal. Just like today, we were half-way into winter, which is why heart strings feel warmer than ever.

DaisyToday I learned that heart strings are not negotiable. They just are. They appear out of nowhere and they will stick forever. It takes one to learn to spot one when it happens.

Heart strings are never planned for, so don’t start trying. That’s the magic of it all. They happen with no warning and often you realize what happened way after they’re gone. But they’ll be there when you least expect it. Magic.

Unless, the Troublesome Beautiful Concept

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On November 13, 2013

In Environment, Social issues

It is one of those days. The air feels heavier for no particular reason yet for many reasons that have been around for a number of days, some even for months or years and most are not about to disappear or get fixed any time soon. Unless. An entire world at its mercy.

I struggle with awareness issues you see. The modern-day disease of the ones who cannot say “Oh well, it is what it is…” I am one of those who say “But why? It shouldn’t be this way…”

I often perform the dangerous activity of taking a few steps back to assess the “big picture.”

In other words, I am attempting to identify where I stand as an individual and where we stand, as fellow humans sharing a planet and the world that we impact, willingly or not (yes we do, lots.)

The latest environmental disaster, the typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines, is a troubling event in more than one way. Planet-wide and humankind-wide. The typhoon has ravaged the country and will continue to do so for a long time, long after the mucky puddles have dried and the global media will have moved on to the next big event that rattles the world.

More than that though, this typhoon and many past and future similar environmental disasters, are defining a world that seems to just “roll with it” in a way that is detrimental to us all. The climate change files are getting plumper by the day with yet another discovery of what bakes us all up slowly but surely, and yet another disaster that claims lives and places and to the latter we say “thank God it did not happen here,” because we can afford the luxury of saying so, though it is solely due to luck provided by geographical location only.

There are warnings, some thin as gossamer, some thick as a sailor’s rope, but in the end neither able to tie us to the very reality we’re stepping on. As if we’re in a state of bobbing over it all helped by nothing more but the lightness of being spared (for now.)

But there is a good humane response to it all and that has to be acknowledged. Help is pouring in as we speak, and though the disaster is far from being fully assessed in all its beastliness, people are being given food and water, mobile hospitals are being set up and millions of dollars are being donated by countries around the world to help the approximately 11 million people who have been affected.

This is all an illustration of who we are in times of trouble. There is empathy, we need that. Media, the finicky mistress of terrible news, is doing its part in providing enough visuals to keep the empathy levels high enough so that help will continue to be sent to those in need. But if history is any lesson, the most diligent of us might just come across news of still unresolved disaster and ruin in the Philippines many months or even years after this. It happened in Haiti.

The reason I am saying this is not because I am trying my hand at being a nagger or a pessimist – I am neither! – but because of the discrepancy of all that our present world is displaying. I struggle with seeing the many facets of our world and wondering how on Earth (where else?) are we going to be able to deal with future disasters if their numbers and intensity will increase?

That the planet is slowly warming up is undeniable. A natural consequence of that are typhoons and hurricanes that kill, displace people and leave many without food or water for days, bringing the kind of desperation that makes people stomp and kill each other in their quest to alleviate their most basic needs, thirst and hunger.

Many environmental scientists are warning about approaching the tipping point. Many of us believe that to be the case while others roll with “It can’t be that bad, they’re just a bunch of scaremongers…”

It is rather unfortunate that human nature, empathetic as it is and a beautiful trait by all means, it can also turn severely dismissive of things that can and do alter the collective quality of our life on the planet, the only one we have.

A recent string of news pointed out to a “dream come true” kind of situation that is on its way to completion in the United States: asserting their crude-oil independence by 2020.

That means two things at least: the first is bound to affect us all because of an increase in carbon dioxide well over the projected allowed levels meant to ensure a halt in global warming, and the secondly, an extra shake-up for us Canadians, because the US oil independence, as desirable and guilt-free as it sounds (no more war-tainted oil) it may just open Pandora’s box when it comes to our oil. Someone will have to buy it and that someone might need pipelines to move it all the way to where it could be exported overseas.

Whether or not things will shape up to follow this scenario or a slightly different ones, my point is: If nothing will change, habit-wise, in the developed world and if the need for more, bigger, better (this one is questionable, yes) more typhoons and storms and climate changes will rattle us all.

We may or may not be able to help those in need when future big disasters hit, and not because we will lack empathy – that I choose to believe will never change – but because the way we treat the environment, which in turn will affect our lifestyle and our capacity to give.

We are slowly coming face to face with the consequences of increased and increasing levels of industrial, agricultural and oil/gas-derived pollution, massive deforestation done to occupy larger areas with various conventional-grown crops, ethanol-producing GM corn included, and the picture is not a pretty one.

Sad large-scale events like the typhoon Haiyan are meant to make us reassess. I strongly believe we should. A disaster of such proportions is a wake-up call that should extend beyond shocking images and heart-warming help.

As Dr. Seuss wrote in his visionary and superb illustration of an environmental crisis in The Lorax “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot/Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

Unless is a powerful concept. We demonstrate often that we have what it takes to help our fellow humans when disaster hits. It is time we apply the same level of commitment to changing our ways. If we want to see things get better that is.

It starts with each of us and all as a collective made-up global mind. A matter of honor if you will…

 

Our Freedom Is a Gift From Veterans

By

On November 9, 2013

In Social issues

ReminderOur neighbourhood has many charming little houses, which were built for the returning veterans back in 1945. A thoughtful project meant to say ‘thank you’ in more than words.

Every year on Remembrance Day, I am reminded of two things: That there are some very brave and selfless people out there, and that the Remembrance Day ceremonies do not bring much solace to those who were injured while serving and are left at the mercy of a system that creates additional stress.

A few days ago, a soldier who suffered a traumatic brain injury while serving in Afghanistan came forth with his story of grief.

Cpl. Shane Jones has been working with seven or eight caseworkers and has been visiting multiple doctors since his injury happened during his 2005 tour. He suffers from posttraumatic stress disorder like many other veterans — and, like many others, feels betrayed by the government.

It is sad and disheartening to hear, yet he is one of many veterans who are not getting appropriate care and consideration for their service.

There are also debates around the financial compensations for injured veterans.

A group of ex-soldiers is suing the government over the new compensation system, arguing that it violates the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. A lifetime disability pension has been replaced by a lump-sum payment, a decision that has angered many.

Previous governments have taken pride in providing for veterans, recognizing the sacrifice of the wounded as a great service to the Crown. Our present government argues that promises made in the past should not be binding.

While debate flourishes, injured veterans are left, more or less, to their own devices. Some injuries are more visible than others, but all war-inflicted injuries are debilitating and take their toll on soldiers and their families.

Once a year, some of the veterans are called upon to share their story and make some of their stories known to the public. Many details are left out because they are too gruesome to share or too painful to recall.

After the wreaths are laid and the poppies are forgotten, stories are set aside for another year and the wounded veterans are back to fighting their private war.

On top of it, they have to worry about a Veterans Affairs minister who expands the definition of a veteran to the point of making it look ridiculous.

Minister Julian Fantino’s words, “… I spent 40 years in law enforcement, I too have served. I’ve been in the trenches and heard the guns go off. I guess I can also put myself and other colleagues, firefighters and other police officers, who put themselves in harm’s way every day, in the same category …” has earned him a resignation request from angered Canadian veterans.

I don’t discount the courage and dedication of firefighters and police forces; they should be honoured for their own sacrifice in serving the people of this country, too.

Some could argue that the Canadian military service is volunteer and so is deployment. But, no one goes to fight a war in their own name. Every soldier deployed by Canada is a soldier of Canada, and his or her sacrifice should be properly acknowledged.

By acknowledging them, we to teach our children that putting one’s life on the line in the name of your country is something that is honoured — not only by citizens, but also by a government that stands true to the core values of a nation honouring its fallen heroes and veterans.

A definition by an unknown author on the Canadian Peacekeeping Veterans Association website reads: “Simply put, a veteran, whether regular or reserve, active or retired, is someone who, at one point in their life, wrote a blank cheque made payable to ‘The Government of Canada,’ for an amount of ‘up to and including’ his life. That is honour. Unfortunately, there are too many people in this country who do not understand it.”

Lest we forget, the freedom and peace we enjoy are a gift from today’s and yesterday’s veterans, to each of us, every day.

Originally published as a column in the Kamloops Daily News on Saturday November 9, 2013

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