Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Armchair Mayor Column Page 30 of 33

A Taste Of Canada

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On September 10, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories

Originally published as a column on September 5, 2014 in the Armchair Mayor News. 
SilentIt was Saturday morning and the sun was the brightest in a few days. We were planning an overnight hike to a nearby lake, the boys’ first if you don’t count a canoe camping trip we did a while ago.

Six of us, as we had two of our relatives from Europe, hiking enthusiasts who have never been into the Canadian back country. In a very subjective manner, we might’ve mentioned that British Columbia has the best of it. Subjective with a side of love if you will.

We loaded backpacks, fishing rods included, and somewhat delayed by an afternoon storm, started our trip later than planned. We took a forest trail that saw us chat two by two, drenched by sudden rain and amazed at the sight of tiny forest frogs, chipmunks and squirrels. Sudden wing flaps made room for guessing games about the birds we could not see, and so did crunching noises coming from farther away.

We kept our path and hit the lake two hours later. The adventure that followed included hiking through a swampy terrain and finding our way through thickets, thus helping the boys understand what bushwhacking really means. Rain continued, feet dunked occasionally as we stepped over slippery logs, mud abounded, but all six of us kept going.

The youngest of us got to ride on shoulders most of the way because small feet can only do so much in moose paradise. It really was. We found a moose bed and though we didn’t get to see a real one, we knew they were near. Wild and proud, Canada made us mucky travelers humbled to be there.

Our guests loved it, the boys did too (more so after we reached the cabin we were headed to) and we all had the unmistakable feeling of victory as we approached the cabin in what could be described as complete darkness.

CelebrationWe peeled off drenched clothing, the boys huddled in a sleeping bag together for warmth and us adults made a big fire and got dinner going. Restaurant dining and a walk through town would’ve never made our guests see what we truly wanted to show them. Canada at its finest: colours, textures, smells, simple beauty that if seen and felt for real, would make anyone not only proud but willing to work their hardest to keep it like that.

A bucket of stars spilled on the night sky, and we found the brightest ones on the lake surface as well. The chilled air of the early fall was drawing steam from summer-warm lake waters and because dinner was taking a while anyway, we went for a night swim. Try it at least once.

We toasted to great adventures, resilience and togetherness, and then we had a sleep guarded by far away loons and a harvest moon that fit perfectly above tall pines.

Soup for breakfast, pumpkin bread and coffee, complete with fishing and exploring the surroundings. Then we were ready to head back, hoping for a boat to take us across the lake so we can avoid swamp trekking.

Out of the blue, a boat came. We called on it, asked if crossing would be possible and the man graciously obliged. Two by two, we were deposited to the other side, leaving the swamps to the moose, because they do it better anyway.

We asked the man for his contact details so we can repay his kindness. Smiling he said ‘Not to worry, just pay it forward.’ We smiled back and promised we will. We do often; random acts of kindness are the best way to feel yourself human.

We trekked back. Rain and bright sun accompanied us and when we reached the car we knew the trip had become more than we ever hoped it would be. Our guests got to see what Canada is made of. Beautiful wilderness and kindness to start with; two valuable assets we should keep on guarding because they are part of the foundation we build our identity on. It definitely made us proud to say ‘Welcome to Canada!’

Life Like A River We’re Better At Paddling Together

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On September 4, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Life Stories, Self-improvement

Initially published as a column in the Armchair Mayor News on August 29, 2014. 

Two days ago I wrote an obituary; my father’s. It’s never an easy thing, even when you know that people wanted to move on because suffering was taking too much out of them.

The hard part is seeing the world reshaping itself after they are in it no more. It’s a feeling we learn to fear, and we forget that the rhythm of life could not be a harmonious one unless we acknowledge death is part of it.

The last few days have been a whirlwind of emotions, ups and down of awakenings, staring reality in the face, knowing that it is the only way to do it right.

Through this and many other rollercoaster jolts life had in store lately, clouds crowding a sky I wanted blue and serene thinking it is mine to decide, I was reminded of the one thing that matters the most: I am not alone. No one really is.

My family has been guarding my well-being with love and patience, keeping guard from winds that would’ve kept me down for too long. Close friends made their presence known and felt, ever so gently, ever so unconditionally bringing themselves into our lives, knowing that when we make room for joy, sorrowful as it was at times, the rough seas will let me see the silver lining. They did.

I went through piles of photos, I dug out my dad’s memories, us four, mom, dad, my sister and I, and through telling stories to my soon-to-be husband and sons, and to our friends, I relived a childhood that was magically beautiful and fully belonging to me.

I’ve been sailing many waters since, walking through sunsets that had me tear up or jump high with the expectations of tomorrow. You soar high one day, and then you tumble and dust off your knees the next.

My dad’s passing, preceded by my mother’s eight years ago, reminded me of the journey they hoped and wished for me when they brought me into the world. It reminded me of how my sons came, started their own and of the flurry of hope I padded their wings with and keep on doing so every day.

My dad’s passing was a sad reminder of how nothing is permanent, and that only makes every day worth more than we are often able to realize and it also reminded me that we are not alone. The most cynical of us will say that we come alone and we leave alone, and that has truth to it. Life is a singular affair by default, at the entry and exit points. But the in between does not need to be.

I have friends holding my heart through this, and I have the kind of family I wish upon everyone. They are present because I let them, because I no longer hold the secrets of life to myself and by doing that I open up doors that all of us know the contour of too well.

There is a wealth of goodness in people around. They open up arms and hearts and through hiccups of discovering who’s in for the long haul and who is not – a necessary part of it all, we learn that being alive is something we never do alone, and it should not be. We all have stories we carry around, we all need to share them because when we do, we give permission to others to share theirs and we find that though details may differ, we build life towers with the same building blocks, we see the same sunsets and sunrises, we love and let go, and through it all, we keep on going no matter what because going while someone is there to share the journey makes it all better.

Losing people we love dearly hurts, it always does and the pain may grow dull but it will never go away. There will be times when you want to throw in the towel, when you think it all unfair, but through the thick of it all, the silver lining makes itself seen brighter than expected: it is all worth it, every moment of it.

Tales Of Ponds And The Physics Principle We Cannot Escape

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On August 13, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Social issues

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday August 8, 2014.

The day was heavy…I woke up to a hazy sky and had my thoughts clumped under it the whole day. Tailings pond disasters, the humanitarian crisis in Irak, the Ebola outbreak… The list is longer than we care to admit or even know.

We cannot do much about many of the crises in the world other than sign petitions when needed, donate money or goods when possible, and hope.

As for the the tailings pond sad story at home, that is one we can deal with more directly. Some more than they ever bargained for.

Environmental disasters should not happen when there are warning signs to be heeded, not when there are ways to prevent them. Not only is this story not new, but there is a rather worrying precedent of having the disaster in the news for a while and then washed thoroughly in corporate crocodile tears promising cleanup and making amends, but really, much of the aftermath is left in the hands of those who are living with it every day, many of whom likely said no to a potentially risky project to begin with and end up with the worst of it when the proverbial fan gets hit.

The Mount Polley disaster is a sad and anger-causing occurrence, but also a nudge towards considering how our own back yard or part of it could change should something similar take place nearby. Yes, the Ajax mine tailings pond suddenly become more threatening than before.

The problem with environmental disasters like that (the word is harsh, I agree, but so is even a ladle-full of arsenic, let alone a few hundred thousand of them) is that they linger for a long time. It’s not like spilling milk on the kitchen floor.

There are 7 billion of us and growing, and the planet’s resources are dwindling as we speak. In an effort and rush to get the most profit over a short period of time, companies often forgo extra security measures or delay the process of making sure safety comes first. A double whammy if you will.

Then the unthinkable happens and the PR team gets busy. Ethical issues become as appealing as eating a handful of dirt and often they are pushed to the side in ways that are more surreptitious than they should be. That too is an art in itself.

Whether we’re dealing with mines, tar sands, or fracking, the question that comes back every time with more vengeance is this: what is happening to social conscience and to truly understanding and facing the consequences of our actions when we go that way?

What is driving us humans to put our own environment at risk, and why doesn’t the thought of a possible disaster make us all shudder knowing that should we sicken our environment, our own health is affected?

Here’s a thing I keep repeating: no matter how far or close one is from the actual site of a natural resource exploration site, the effects of such enterprises can leave a serious imprint on our world, let alone when disasters happen. We’re in it together.

The hazy sky over Kamloops today was not from any local wildfire but from down south.

We share the planet, we share the consequences of our collective actions. When people oppose mines and pipelines they do not do it because it’s trendy to do so but because they ask loudly ‘What if?’ and because the answer is a complex, often scary one. Even scarier when it becomes reality.

We are not disconnected from the natural world that keeps us alive, I choose to stubbornly believe that; we are just temporarily absorbed by a life that happens too fast and it dazzles us with too much.

We cannot be disconnected because we cannot afford to. There’s nothing remotely positive about the recent Mount Polley disaster but if we agree that knowledge is power, let’s use the power of having just learned that disasters can happen in preventing future ones.

How? That points to another recurrent theme: needs before wants. Nothing else will do. Not when there are so many of us and more coming. Not when we have one planet between all of us to share.

We are but part of the world we live in, and not its uncontested masters. The old physics principle of ‘for every action there is a reaction’ still applies, and recent happenings show that actions can sometimes trigger reactions we are not prepared to deal with or cannot fix any time soon. So why not do it better then?

Summer In Kamloops. And Why You Cannot Play favourites

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On July 27, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Life Stories, Motherhood

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, July 25, 2014

Summer. RiverIt was a bit of a rushed late afternoon so we had watermelon for dinner. Fate favoured the rushed that day; the watermelon was crisp and sweet and the memories of the few mushy watermelons were erased by the dripping sweetness of the one I guessed right.

Then we headed to Prince Charles Park for the dress rehearsal of the ‘Last of the dragons.’ A neighborly perk you could say, lucky. We did not know what to expect, but we love plays. As we were about to discover, our expectations would’ve been surpassed anyway.

Something that I’ve learned along the years is that tastes differ and my cup of tea may not be yours and the other way around. There is a high chance this play and the one we went to see the second night, ‘Alice in Wonderland,’ may just become our common denominator.

I won’t throw my arms in the air urging you to go see them because you might not be convinced. But here’s what the two plays did for me. They made me laugh, they were so dynamic that you could not take your eyes off the fast-moving actors, the décor and costumes were fault-free and if I had to summarize it in one concise statement, it would be something like this: they made me forget about everything else. They were that good.

Why is that remarkable you may ask? Because other than heading out of phone and internet reach with my family, it rarely happens.

Among devastating news of planes being shot down and other falling down without an apparent cause, pipelines wrongfully approved and wars sprouting like toxic mushrooms in some parts of the world, not to mention the plethora of environmental troubling news flooding my inbox every day, it’s hard to evade and stay there for a while.

Well, I did. The boys too. Their faces in late dusk said it all. I did my best to translate that to the two affable play directors that made it all happen.

The second representation was halted by rain for a few minutes but what better way to play skidding tag than on wet grass in almost darkness while waiting for the play to resume. And it did. We really had to see the ending, the boys said. That’s how you know something it’s worth it.

The next day at the farmer’s market downtown, we ran into one of the actresses and made her acquaintance.

Afterwards, walking with my arms full of raspberries and bright yellow zucchini, the two items our garden does not supply at the moment, I felt like I won the jackpot. Because once again I realized the joy of living in a place small enough to allow for bumping into people you know, but big enough to allow for remarkable things to happen.

To the rest of the world, summers in Kamloops are hot. It’s a desert, right? To me, they are beautiful.  Yes, it is hot, yes our little house becomes an oven on those hot days when the sun seems to fulfill some personal vendetta with the very land we step on, but the richness of all that is happening here is hard to ignore. Our own garden included.

We have good music in the park, we have a farmer’s market where smiles and produce are always fresh, we have plays in the park that make you forget about everything else, we have the kind of town that has a heart you could hear the beats of if you just stop and listen for a few moments.

I don’t have a favourite season you see. I thought fall we moved here two years ago. I had spoken too soon. Winter came and we were sold. Then spring, lilac and wildflowers made it even more difficult.

Then of course, this summer, our first in Kamloops, sealed the deal. There is no favourite. We are a lucky bunch. That’s to be grateful for. Whether it is nature gifting us with beauty, or people putting their hearts and talents out there to make us aware of joy even for a bit, well, that’s to be grateful for. Every season has it.

splashThe skies rained on our parade two days ago, literally, but some goodness came out of it. At the neighborhood gas station today one of the attendants told me a heartwarming story of locals helping out those whose vehicles got submerged at the 10th Street underpass. Shoes were lost, he said. Hearts were found, I concluded.

Lucky us. Say it isn’t so.

Tomato School – Why Gardening Makes Sense

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On July 21, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Life Stories, Motherhood

Tomato schoolI tried to grow tomatoes in Vancouver many times. The climate did not agree with my intentions and the tomato project became a ‘perhaps one day…’

Then we moved to Kamloops in late summer, just in time for a bountiful harvest at the farmer’s market. Baskets of tomatoes stared me in the face and gave new meaning to paradise found.

Come spring, we made a first shy attempt at gardening, knowing that summer might take us away to visit family overseas. It did. Summer was to be hot and the garden on its own. Still, memories of the basketfuls of tomatoes plus a tomato seedling gift from our neighbour made temptation too hard to resist and tomatoes were planted; so were potatoes and pumpkins.

Then we left. A month and half later, we returned to a wild garden where the tomato were reigning supreme, full of fruit. Some tomatoes were old and wrinkled, others in their prime. For a tomato grower desperado that was a sight to behold. I saved seeds, lots of them.

This year we evacuated grass from half of the back yard and rolled up our sleeves for a more professional approach.

Seed, water, weed, watch grow, weed, wonder how could that be, weed, and repeat as necessary. Yes, it is work. Regardless, it paid off. We have been eating fresh organic veggies since early spring and the fall harvest promises to be a big one, if it matches even remotely the summer one.

Many early mornings have found me in the garden carefully checking each crop, discovering new growth: tiny beans, tiny squashes, tiny tomatoes and assessing the ever-growing corn stalks, staring into their green tunnels of leaves wrapped around each other in an embrace that will end in late fall when fresh-green becomes husky.

On many of those early morning when the boys were still asleep inside and the city was half asleep still, I thought how much parenting resembles gardening. It is an everyday thing, it must be, or else there’s a risk to crops. Persistence, humbleness and knowing that every day brings new wonders. Realizing that it’s a together thing all along. Never thinking of how much work you put in it because the rewards are overwhelming.

Once awake, the boys descend in the garden, and they do so several throughout the day, and then the feasting starts, straight from the garden: lettuce, peas, carrots, kale and herbs. They wrap them up creating earthy hors d’oeuvres that could not taste better.

Not a leaf is wasted, not a pea green blob left uneaten; excess makes it to the dinner table and that comes with thanks. Many.

A few days ago a mega review of some 340 studies settled the dispute on the value of organic food. They are superior to conventional produce. They taste better, have a higher content of antioxidants and other active compounds we benefit from and if you happen to grow it yourself, you ditch waste for good.

There has never been a more urgent time to get children down and dirty. Growing food with them alongside teaches many of the forgotten lessons of today: that you need to work in order to eat, that you have to keep at it if you want to see results, that you cannot rush or else, and that waste is the enemy.

We need to have them learn all of that. Above all, in the culture of waste and abundance (perhaps we need to redefine abundance?) they need to learn the value of food through the revealing sweetness of every green pea they pick out of a pod they’ve seen grow for days.

They will see live seeking life in the garden, they will wonder at the utter perfection of dragonfly wings and the gentle sway of butterfly dances. They get to ask questions.

Meanwhile, you’re growing food. Answers on a plate, some questions left unanswered because how else would kids take the next step when they are about to discover the world. Inquisitive minds should not be taken for granted.

It takes time, sure it does. But so does parenting. So why not combining and make them waltz along while you’re writing the music in green notes? Worth a try, wouldn’t you agree?…

There Is More To Addressing Fear Than Security Cameras And Locked Doors

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On July 15, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Life Stories, Social issues

(Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, July 11, 2014)

I remember the days after the Sandy Hook Elementary shooting. My youngest was six at the time and I remember staring at his round fingers grabbing crayons, or an apple, or pointing to something I had to see.

I remember his small hand sinking into mine, nestled like a baby bird that had enough for the day and was looking for the embrace of its shelter. During the first couple of weeks my thoughts were stubbornly returning to the shooting.

Most of the victims were children and they were six. Same small hands with round eager fingers, ready to grab and point. Same curiosity and joy to live.

Another thought that crossed my mind countless times was ‘What if?…’ Every time I’d go there it was like approaching a sudden drop into nowhere. I could not fathom that and I could not construct that kind of reality. My heart went out, still does, to those who ever have to.

But here’s a question: for how long can we entertain fear of that kind before it takes over our lives in an unhealthy way? I’m ready to say not for long.

When our house was broken into I met a different kind of fear. I was afraid of it happening again, we all were for a while after it happened, but we refused to give in. We adults set the tone on that one, and the boys followed, though my feeling is that it went both way for all of us.

We lock our doors nowadays the way we always have and we ask our neighbours to look after our place when we’re away. Could it happen again? Most certainly. Yet living in fear forever is way worse because it robs us of our joy to live and it keeps the shadows that left the house a long time ago present, giving them more substance than they should ever have.

Fear begets fear. There is too much around us as it is, and we are subjecting our children to it too. From bacteria to strangers, we remind them to be afraid of the world they live in. Add to that the recent plans to enhance security around schools and one may wonder about their ability to keep that intrinsic joie de vivre alive with so much to fear.

Prevention is important, we all agree. And so is the old ‘Better safe than sorry.’  But are we truly looking at prevention the right way?

This equation is not an easy one to solve and it has more terms than one. Mental health and poverty to start with.

Are we making sure that the early signs of mental health imbalances are being addressed properly and the stigma associated with such issues is slowly becoming a thing of the past?

Are we teaching children, teenagers and adults too about mental issues and their serious implications, while at the same time making sure that early intervention, adequate services including counselling and treatment are available to those in need, regardless of their social status?

Fear is part of life. Our ancestors used to stay alive and nowadays, fear is what makes us capable of outstanding things when outstanding is needed of us. A healthy sense of fear keeps children safe, there is no debate about that.

But fear and life skills have to be taught at the same time; children have to know that there is more to addressing fear than barricading ourselves behind locked doors and having the security cameras on stand-by, lest a bird sits on one…

Children experience fear, they need protection and reassurance. They are afraid of losing their parents, of not being liked and accepted by their peers and of trees swaying too wildly during a big storm.

But they also live in the moment. Yesterday’s intense fear is replaced by the excitement of new things they discover today and the joy of playing.

Security measures are a good thing, they are, but outfitting schools with too much might do the opposite for our children.

It will keep reminding them of a putative evil that no matter how remote the risks of, becomes more of a reality with every day they see the security features in place, pinning their imagination to an awful scenario, the kind they are instinctually programmed to forget about…

How is that not to fear, given the insidious long term effects of living under the dark, unforgiving cloud of ‘What if?…’

In Praise Of Slowness

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On July 9, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Life Stories, Motherhood

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, July 4, 2014.

Slow...We were on a mission to get a couple of laneway wild poppies, my youngest son and I. We were inspired by one of the vendors at Art in the Park on Canada Day. In case you missed it, make sure you go next year. It’s not something you should be OK with missing out on…

We have always pressed wildflowers and used them for various art projects but this would be a step up, where the whole plant minus the roots gets pressed and mounted in a frame, as we saw at the fair. Talk about slowing down time.

It was 11am or so, and we were to cross Columbia Street. We stood on the sidewalk by the crossing, my son’s small hand in mine and we waited. Three rushed cars later, we were still waiting. I dared to put a foot on the wide white stripe. Open Sesame?

A fourth car stopped, screech included. A thank-you wave did not melt the driver’s face into a smile. He was in a rush and that crossing was clearly not a happy addition.

We crossed and walked a few blocks to get the two lone poppies. They were just about ready to drop their petals, which will only make it better in the final display.

We made our way back, talking about wild plants and how they grow, with no one to take care of them. Then we talked about fruit trees, why you need to graft them and how long it takes for them to bear fruit. We saw cherry trees loaded with fruit, cherries on the ground and bugs giving in to their sweetness.

On a back street life slows down and there many bits of life to see; our slow steps matched the rhythm of it.

Crossing Columbia Street reminded us what fast is, again. Even residential streets become fast lanes occasionally, which makes both walking and cycling with or without children a challenge many times. Rushed can turn dangerous in a split second; I’ve seen it happen enough times to fear it.

Why rush? Life pushes us into the fast lane occasionally, or often. Yet no matter how often that happens, slow can still be fit in there somewhere.

In fact many things cannot be done in rushed manner or else they come out wrong. Learning takes times, growing food takes time, reading to a child better take time, creating or building anything that is to be durable and worthwhile takes time.

Slow is not robbing us of time but rather gifting us time.

Rushing has become a religion of some sort. We put rushed and busy together and we feel accomplished. Truth is, sometimes we do, and sometimes we don’t. There should be room for both.

If you are an adult today you had the benefit of being born in a world that was likely less rushed than the one today. Children nowadays eat on the go, they get dressed on the go, they get to be driven places because there are many places to go for so many activities and so days tumble, one after another, year after year.

But they need slowness. That’s how they come out. The first walks I took with the boys were the epitome of slowness. Picking up leaves, rocks, staring at how rain drops made puddles jiggle, listening to bird songs, everything was taken in.

Most children rarely get the luxury of slow times these days. Time to get to know the world and make it worthwhile.

But summer is here. Children and summer are a good mix when it comes to discovering slowness. That includes getting bored. When they do, creativity kicks in.

With no agenda, they will discover a world of wonder where scheduled activity stops. Free playing for example. How many of your summers were spent playing whatever crossed your mind and having the time of your life, dirty from head to toe and never ready to stop?

In the age of restlessness and plunging attention spans, allowing children to experience slow times is a gift.

Celebrate slow times. As much as your work commitments allow you to, keep in the slow lanes. Encourage your children to know the pace of life as it is outside what we make it out to be.  Slowness makes room for deep conversations, and when we spend it with children, they get the worthiest gift of all: time with us.

So why not start with this summer?

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