Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Kamloops Page 38 of 45

A Tale Of Two Species

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On December 1, 2014

In Kamloops, Life Stories

The problem with old houses on steep hills is that they keep on shifting. Like an old lady sitting crookedly on a slanted chair, weight shifts take place often and are unpredictable. Oh, and irreversible too. We innocently thought that tilted floors are nothing more than a quirky addition to an already quirky house. And we kinda liked that.

It should’ve been a short sweet story, but short stories can leave you wanting more. In this case, they left us wanting less… You’ll see why.

We moved into this little house on the hill two months ago. We painted dark walls and revived cherry-stained floors, we transformed a mouse-ridden shed into an acceptable storage space (as long as we use waterproof containers) and managed to create a brilliant indoor garden. Truly so, as all plants are a captivating green, not to mention their air-purifying qualities which adds peace of mind to occasionally weary inhabitants.

Weary not by default, but by circumstance.

It all started one late evening. The boys were in bed sleeping and we adults were planning the deeds of next day, mostly related to interior decorating. You know those calm, slow-paced evening hours when tiredness gives in to the promise of sweet sleep… and when pointing to an empty wall with a ‘what if’ hanging in the air reveals a small critter with black beady eyes… I froze. I love every living creature and such, always have, but the case of man vs. mice is still up for debate.

It was a tough reality to subscribe to. Interior decorating went the way of the dodo and we started planning around the mouse issue. I felt slightly endeared towards it as memories of a free-range gerbil we used to have a while ago surfaced, sending waves of compassion through my brain. I named the mouse Florence and decided to never kill it.

Don’t judge, we all have our weak spots. Mine relates to how I tend to various creatures. Been doing so since I was little. But Florence was a different story. She was not meek you see; quite daring instead. Small and quick, she went through low-level cupboards and the tell-tale sign was… well, the droppings. A big no.

We decided on humane trapping and the next morning we had Florence in a bucket and ready to join the great outdoors. We drove far enough from home, said goodbye, the boys did too, sighed, and left a hunk of cheese (mouse-size) and an apple core as survival rations until she would find her way around.

And no, we did not know for certain whether she was a girl. And we thought she was a lonely mouse. Not really.

The tell-tale droppings continued and a second mouse was trapped humanely. Unfortunately, this one had some Olympic qualities and managed to clear the bucket space we had offered in preparation for outdoor release.

That’s when the word on the humane trapping got out and the mice smartened up, avoiding the said trap. At the same time, they trampled over my desk, and once I got to see a grey curious face staring at me from between the succulent plants. A juicy story indeed.

I called to my husband and a short, wordless exchange was all it took. I came to the realization that this could no longer be a story of humane removal of mice. After reading a few more than explanatory pages of possible diseases rodents can impart to human roommates, we opted to part ways with the murine population the old fashioned way. In came the traps. Yep, the snappy ones.

We are as of last night, nine mice less than we were a week ago. Onwards we go!

Movie watching got a new meaning. Usually, we barely have time or energy to watch any, but now that the mouse issue has to be solved, we occasionally sit and watch, and the traps go ‘snap!’ in the meantime. It sounds cruel, unless you have, at least once, woken up to mouse tracks all over your kitchen.

For those with a rich imagination though, I will ask that you use it sparingly when it comes to trapped rodents. I am not for any kind of animal torture but this is a ‘we have to’ situation as little boy is threatened by asthma when in the presence of certain furry critters.

It’s a no brainer, mice lose from the start. So there you have it.

Life in an old house is nothing short of spectacular as you can see. Worth the experience though, mice and old sewer systems included. Oh yes, that is also presently happening, but that will be the next story in the series “Stories from an old house” because we know there will be more. Hold that thought, the plumber just arrived…

If You Believe In Making Good Things Happen, You Need To Vote

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On November 5, 2014

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

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, October 31, 2014. 

It is a time of turmoil, social and political. A few days ago, thousands were present for Cpl. Cirillo’s funeral in Hamilton. Next is Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent’s funeral, who will be laid to rest on Saturday in what the family requested to be a private, no-press-allowed, ceremony. Lest we forget.

As the dust settles and other news will boil over, one can hope that the troubling questions left behind by the sudden and violent deaths of the two soldiers will be answered sooner than later. Much has been said about the charismatic smile of Cpl. Cirillo and his good nature, less so about why he was shot by someone who managed to run amok in an area that has at least one surveillance camera.

Presumably, someone was watching that screen at all times, in which case, how could a man with a long gun be overlooked. And if he wasn’t, where were the security forces that were supposed to come out in a blink and contain the situation before anyone got killed. Answers are not easy to come by, and accountability is an elusive creature we want to see materialized among politicians.

Then we have the lingering, growing as we speak, energy-related issues that transform people into rabid partisans of the pro and cons arguments. We see it all over the country, and we see it in our own city.

Ideally, our elected officials should be able to sort it out in a way that will be good for all and there will be someone who will answer the tough questions or pay the actual price of damage should any damage occur after all precautions have been taken. Or oppose a project unless it is done right, which is the latest case of the David and Goliath type of confrontation between Kinder Morgan and the city of Burnaby, mayor and people standing together. Accountability is what helps with that.

We can toil over these issues and more all we want; truth is, there is no easy solution. Problems arise daily, some bigger than others, and it is often that people feel helpless about them. Expectedly so, when questions fall of deaf ears. Which is why voting becomes the one thing anyone can do to lessen the feeling of helplessness.

Unless we go out and vote whoever we think will do a good job at addressing issues that have to do with the state of our democracy, our environment, education, health, housing problems, and so much more, nothing will be done in a way that feels right.

Someone said to me ‘if I do not vote, at least I cannot say I voted the wrong person when they don’t do their job…’ But is that the point? It is never a matter of whether a politician does it right or wrong by me only. I can voice my concerns, I can express ideas and if I feel in any way betrayed by the ones I chose, I have to take it further than just sanctioning their activity in my head.

I do not vote my personal councilors and mayor, just like you do not either. It is a concerted effort and, as always, my deed (vote in this case) will affect your life and the other way around. A community that can vote is a community where good things can happen.

There is no escaping this one if we want to see changes and issues dealt with in a responsible manner. Freedom of speech and freedom to vote are two important assets in a democracy and they should be exercised by the people who have them.

There have been multiple instances of freedom of speech being impended (see the case of Canadian scientists being silenced to the point of scientists from other countries expressing concern over practices that are unbecoming of a democratic government) and there are cases of truth being withheld for various reasons.

There are decisions being made in regards to pipelines, mines and fracking that are questionable to say the least. There are accidents such as tailing ponds ruptures, oil spills and chronic health issues in many who live near exploitation sites and no one has to live with the consequences expect for the people who suffered in the first place. There are provincial parks that may be having their boundaries redefined just so pipelines could run through it.

All these matters have to be addressed in a responsible manner. More than that, the government officials who address these issues and more, have to be accountable to voters and open to having dialogues as needed.

In which case, one wonders, where are such perfect politicians hiding?

There are no perfect humans, politicians or otherwise. But in case of politicians, they have to understand their mission and the trust they are given by people like you and me.

More so, they need to be able to stand up right, be accountable and make truth their ally. If we all speak the truth, things are bound to get better.

I guess the best way to describe my expectations for what’s to come is to say that we elect representatives that will keep on growing to become great politicians rather than go for the perfect ones from the start, because truth is, no one is perfect and everyone should be given chances to grow and do better every day. What I do ask though is openness and a social conscience.

For that, I will go vote and I urge you to do the same. It is a privilege to have choices.

Stories Of The Old

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On October 8, 2014

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

Originally published as a column in the AM News on October 2, 2014. 

A place to beShe said ‘I have something for you to borrow’ and walked to the hallway closet. From the top shelf she got a book. Green and old, hardcover, with writing that spilled the secret: a Kamloops directory from the late ‘40s.

I am visiting with my nonagerian friend I met when we moved to Kamloops. One sunny day in September of 2012 I walked barefoot across the street to her home and introduced myself. We’ve been close since.

We recently said goodbye to our first Kamloops home and I said goodbye to walking across the street to my friend’s home. It’ll be weekly visits from now on, just as good and pleasantly anticipated. Every time I visit with her she tells stories of old Kamloops, and we have a good laugh about many of them. She’s a keeper of memories like no one else. And sadly, one of the few left.

The house we moved into is a 1905 house in a downtown area where old houses still stand, hence my friend’s suggestion that I borrow the book and look up former residents. Our house comes with a soul and it seems logical that we look into finding out who added to it over the years.

My elderly friend always talks of the old days and reinforces my belief that we need to mind them more than we do nowadays. Because history is very hard to keep track of, true history, she says. And knowing how a place and its people came to be, helps us understand how we should shape the future so that it honours us, those before us and those who are still to come.

Kamloops has plenty of history still, and much of it stands right in front of you in shape of old buildings. Some are truly decrepit but some are not. Sadly, many will never make it past this decade.

Just two days ago, a close friend told me of the house her grandfather built and she grew up in. It came down to make room for an apartment building. If you’re ready to picture an old derelict unsafe house that had no future, you’re risking a false, gross assumption.

The house displayed beautiful features of old craftsmanship, mahogany walls and the kind of solid design that could make it through another century. It didn’t, unfairly so.

My nonagerian friend tells me of a friend who moved into a house just down the street that was built by W Jas Moffat, a former mayor of Kamloops and skilled home builder. She read about that in the book she gave me to peruse.

I drove home with the book and a car full of herb planters, drift wood and rocks I had left behind yesterday when we moved. I sat on the front steps among boxes and other paraphernalia, glanced at the river winding its way through the ever-growing new Kamloops and the beautiful hills rolling as far as the eyes could see and then I read through the book. I was struck by an interesting feature: each person had their occupation listed also.

You might be thinking about privacy and such. Oddly enough, it doesn’t violate any privacy concerns of mine. I consider myself a private person and wary of prying eyes in general. But a directory where everyone was listed with their occupation, rather than just an address, revealed a level of transparency that pointed to accountability and citizenship rather than gratuitous exposure.

The book I was holding had been a Kamloops directory, and nowadays is a history book. Not bad of a transformation.

There are stories written on every page, next to each name, just like there are stories written in the dark chocolate wooden floors I step on in our new dwelling. They have been here since 1905 and I consider it a privilege to be able to offer my sons a slice of old Kamloops, since as every recently transplanted resident knows, being new comes with feeling rootless.

Well, it turns out that you can grow roots if willing. Through people who share stories, and through places that you can love and are willing to work hard to bring back to life.

If I am to instill in my sons respect for the values that made Canada what it is and help them grow into citizens who know how to honour it, and demand the same from their political leaders, I figure it’ll be from the ground up, literally. The reverence an old building can inspire is not one we should take for granted. It’s the portal to the days when openness was not considered lack of privacy but civic responsibility. We need more of that.

If you are willing to accept that as truth, then it’ll make sense that the lack of transparency we see nowadays, from a neighborhood or town level to the highest political tier, leads to lack of accountability, damaging in the long run and clearly capable to hurt the solidity of our community and country, and transform the values our anthem reminds us of.

Speaking For The Trees And More Is No Longer A Trend But A Necessity

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On September 17, 2014

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

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday September 12, 2014.

It took almost two weeks for the trees across the street to be cut and sliced. There were four of them, all old and showing it in impressive girth, some guilty of a modern-day crime: having grown too close to the power lines.

Many early mornings of loud electric sawing later, the power line pole stands by itself, clear of potential danger. It had to be done, the team on site said. Two trees got too close, and the other two… well, it was decided that taking them down could prevent future problems.

Without pulling any Lorax tricks and jumping out of a stump to speak for the trees, I shook my head and wondered if maybe maintenance of a live tree would not be worth more than cutting it. After all, many a tree come down for various reasons, and some of the reasons support wants but not needs. A quick look at the increasing amount of flyers in our mail box in the last two weeks confirms it.

Throwing them and other bits of paper in the recycling bin offers little if any consolation. Trees came down for me to know that I can get pumpkin spice latte for only $3 during the month of October, or two pizzas for the price of one plus an oversized cookie.

I grew up in a yard that abounded with trees. We had a big pear tree that gave us pears and lots of leaves to clean each fall, a walnut tree that provided walnuts, great climbing and a slight amount of leafy grief to our neigbour’s gutters once it grew too big, many apple and plum trees, and a peach tree that was worth its weight in gold.

The gutter issue was solved by sawing off the rambunctious walnut branches and the tree lives to this day.

I remember my dad’s joy when planting yet another fruit tree somewhere around the yard or on the boulevard. I remember the day he showed me a fragile baby walnut tree in the back yard, proud of having saved it and talking about how it’ll grow into a beautiful one. It did. Many years later the fragile beginnings have been replaced by an impressive crown. My beloved dog was buried under it, my dad thought it that way…

One of the most powerful revelations I had as a kid was when I realized the depth of a simple, vital truth: trees provide oxygen for us to breathe. To live. Many strolls through beautiful forests of various kind later, the wonder of that astounding truth is humbling, more so because I know that we have the tools to terminate a 300-year-old tree but also countless, strong reasons to keep it alive.

Conservation of existing forests and wise decisions in logging should align with that. We need our forests more than ever before, given the increased pollution levels and the ever-growing threat of climate change.

A recent report published on September 4 by Global Forest Watch revealed that 8 percent of the world’s remaining pristine forests have been lost since 2000. Canada leads the way, deforestation-wise, the same report points out.

Tree planters may argue that they have been replanting ad nauseam, a welcome enterprise for sure. Yet it is worth remembering that old growth forests are not easily replaceable if at all. New trees simply cannot do the same as the trees of an old virgin forest that has developed a unique ecosystem over many thousands of years.

It is hard not to ask ‘Why?’ and ‘Why us again?’ in the context of many questionable environmental practices that have put our reputation at risk lately. Natural resources are to be exploited on a need-to basis and only after careful consideration, yet reality reveals the opposite.

This year saw the fisheries science libraries being dismantled, many scientists lost their jobs and many revealed a level of censorship defined as ‘muzzling’, which should never be allowed in a democratic society and in a country that has incredible natural resources that should be guarded in a way that befits their worth.

We hear of increased rates of cancer in areas where natural resources exploitation is at an all-time high yet governmental scientists deny it; we hear of tailings pond spillage that independent scientists classify as natural disasters given the way they affect human health and the environment, yet governmental organizations tell us there is no big danger; we hear of high levels of deforestation from international organizations but not from our own leaders, so it’s only natural to scratch our heads and ask who is right, where does the truth lie and whether our democratically voted leaders are truly watching over us and our country the way they should.

The levels of political interference that prevents truth from being revealed by independent scientists here in Canada should be worrying enough for everyone. Our land carries much wealth inside and out, and harvesting it without a conscience can lead to consequences that will haunt us and many generations to come.

Every tree we look at should become a reminder of the great wealth we were entrusted with by past and future generations alike. It is only natural that we make our voices loud enough and our intentions clear enough to save what can be saved and use only what we need. There is enough science to back us up, starting from the roots up.

Because You Came Back

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On September 13, 2014

In Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories

MorningIt was past 6.30am and the forest was silent. As if to tell you that you’re too late for the night swoosh; now they’ve gone to bed, all the critters unseen who own the path you’re stepping on.

The ground is padded with moss and lichen, all dry, all thirsty for water that might or might not come any time soon. Water is precious here. Dry crunching steps make you wonder if you’ve come too soon. You came to see the green. Dry is not enticing enough. Dry is dead. The forest argues that is not with a flap of wings and a rushed squirrel that stares long enough for you to know the forest is alive after all…

TransformDead is not here. Dead is not what you’re stepping on; old wood, soft as melted chocolate, that is not dead but transforming. Welcome to the forest. Have you forgotten? Keep on going, you’ll remember if you keep on going…

Crick, crack, your steps give you away. Creatures shy away in burrows one step away or a hundred, you’ll never know. You are the visitor now. Stop. Listen. Wings again, wideness you can read in distant flapping, wideness you can see if you close your eyes and let your mind draw the bird you just hear. Thus is for now the visitor status… Silence, trees that won’t tell a thing unless you stay long enough.

Once Stray away from the path, up and over the knoll that gives way to greener grass. Your feet are silent now, and they take you near old bones scattered among old gnarly branches and you think yourself as prone to the reality of life and death as the creatures who once bore them were…

Signs of human presence further on are somewhat abhorrent; here, now, an insult. The bone yard you stumble across has deer legs, furry with hooves still attached, scattered at awkward angles. They point to death, not transformation, in stark contrast with the grass they lay on and the clean skulls you found on the knoll… A blue ribbon, old and ruffled, marking something no one will know anything about, reminding of a presence that can be intrusive when it shouldn’t. Today you learn, from today onwards you will leave no marks…

The ground is damp here, grass and clover patches alive and bouncing back as you step on them. You follow the path overgrown with greenness and leave the dryness behind. There is more, there always is more, the leaves of distant birches perk up in a shimmering choir stirred by the gentlest breeze.

Rosehip bushes line the path and your gaze stops on each red blob; they punctuate the green space, diving into leafy pages you read as you walk.

Keep on walking, deeper still, the forest urges, you’ll the reason to return. You’ll hear why.

An animal path, a shy ramification of the human-made one, calls for you to discover how creatures find their way, how they dance and fear when you’re not around. They follow voices coming from within. Mystery.

Tock-tock-tock, a woodpecker. High and busy, it becomes the clock that divides time in increments smaller than you thought possible. Stop. Tick-tock… If time scurries so fast, won’t we run out of it too soon? No. You stop, long enough to make it stop. Listen. Time is measured by clocks with hearts, by hasty breaths, by how long it takes for larvae to grow and become food through relentless pecking. Tick-tock.

LifeNow you’ve seen it too. Time. Silence, and all the sounds hidden in it, coming out when crunchy steps give you away no more.  When your heartbeat matches the rhythms of the forest; not because you made it here and stayed long enough but because you’ve returned.

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!’

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?

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