Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Life Stories Page 42 of 46

They Need To Know About The Past To Understand The Present

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On February 22, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories

(Originally published as a column in The Armchair Mayor News on February 21, 2014)

On the way to Wells Grey Park last spring we spotted a ghost house and its adjacent barn and we stopped. The boys would not have it any other way. We walked through tall green grass all the way to the house and looked inside through rickety windows. Speechless was the only way to do it right.

An old fireplace, wooden slabs chewed by various bugs lay asleep on dusty floors and from somewhere in a corner, the chirping of new baby swallows. A nest was safely glued to the ceiling and beady eyes peeked at us.

Photos are never able to convey the feeling of being there. The boys ask questions; some answers we know, some we look up together and some we will never know.

We have been trying to get into some other old establishments in Sandon for a while now. It is not exactly a bright star on everyone’s map, but it is on ours. Until we get to explore it fully with the boys, that is. And afterwards too because it holds a piece of the province’s history that children should know about.

As the boys grow, we will keep the list of places growing too. Soon to visit is Bella Coola, and The Sacred Headwaters of the Skeena.

When time has to be squeezed for bigger trips, we put in all our might, because it matters that the boys see and know.

We took them to see the pictographs up at the caves near Savona, and though the hike was a gnarly one, they both declared it worth it when they got to the top.

We take them to see old towns where the new is slow to come and for a good reason. People are not ready to part with the good things that worked well for so many years.

We take them to see remote areas with no sign of civilization, we take them to old quiet forests where the only steps are those of animals, and then talk about it all. Questions abound, then other topics tumble through their curious minds, but we see the places we visited reflected in their games.

Outside games, muck and sticks and expeditions so adventurous they make their eyes sparkle with excitement. All in a day’s game…

We want the boys to see the face of the world in its entirety, not just in its novelty. Because no matter how well designed, progress and novelty are but part of the real world, and they will never offer the big picture just by themselves.

Children need both sides. They need to see what a place looks like, they need to understand why, and they need to understand what the future holds should changes occur.

The world is changing fast. Forces other than needs – think economic growth and not necessarily for the benefit of the province or country – dictate how the future unfolds. The recent dismantling of science libraries by the Harper government sent a chill through many a spine in the country. If we erase or are made to forget the past then the future will be built on sand and that’s a short-lived future.

Knowing where you come from shapes the way you take as you advance through life. It applies at a personal level as well as a community and society level.

We will keep on taking the boys along for rides. From near to far, through snow-clad old forests where old mines and forgotten train tracks lay forgotten, to visiting our museum here in town, we will keep on adding pieces to the big puzzle that will be one day called a responsible citizen.

One that acts with grace and possesses the understanding of how he came to be. With gratitude towards the people who walked ahead of them and responsibility for the ones that are to come. Because life was never intended to be partially erased or forgotten.

Because there is more to life than being in the present. There is minding of the past and the future and building the bridge to link them with all that we learn along the way.

What I know is that children learn best when they do it hands on. Eyes on too. The hearts and minds follow every time.

It Takes A Village…

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On February 14, 2014

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

Originally published as a column in The Armchair Mayor News, the new venue for The Way I See It column, on February 14, 2014. 

It was at bedtime that I heard my youngest singing the refrain of a recent Miley Cyrus hit, something that has to do with a wrecking ball. Music likes and dislikes aside, the piece has a questionable video to go with it.

I asked where it came from. Kids in his class he said, some were singing it all day. He is grade 2. It was part of a school concert that he was absent from.

I know that this teen star who has long left innocence behind is merely a product of show biz. Her antics though are admired by many elementary school children, none old enough to fully understand the perils of missing moral values.

I admit to a sinking feeling. That he knew the song, that this song is in the end just a song that will go away but there are so many other things that have the power to take away his innocence and nothing short of keeping him away from the world will allow me to protect him. That other people could open his eyes about things children are better off without knowing.

There is a lot out there our children are not ready for. Think explicit sexual content, horror movies, pornography that should have nothing to do with elementary school children but it does. More than you think.

If you don’t believe me, ask your children or other children you know. If they’re letting you in their world even for a bit, and if you listen, you’ll find dark patches that will bring you to tears.

I said it before, it is not prudishness that causes my frustration, but the realization that no matter how hard I try to keep my sons away from things they are too young and too innocent to understand, someone will peel their eyes open and that can take away the one thing I cannot give back to them: their innocence.

This is not a new topic nowadays. We hear high school students swap inappropriate content pertaining classmates.  We want it addressed. We sincerely believe that the investigation that follows and possible criminal charges – possession and trafficking of child pornography – will teach them a lesson.

Until it happens again. Because it does.

We are told we should talk to our children. We know that and try. We should set a good example. We do, many of us. We should communicate more and better. Learn.

No parent is perfect. I diligently follow my heart when it comes to parenting and diligently own up to my many mistakes, learning a bit more from each of them. I answer questions, I hug, I wipe tears and hug again.

With the topic of sex and all related, I take the straight talk approach though I was raised with a dead silence around the very topic. Children know when you mean well versus just policing.

The sex topic includes pornography. It’s out there, lots of it and it’s never been easier to access. Some people say ‘Not my kid’ and I wish that were true. We have all been that parent at some point.

Before you say ‘Oh come on, what’s the big deal?’ I will ask you this: what is a 10 or 11-year-old going to gain out of watching porn? Or what is a seven-year-old to gain from watching horror movies that he is all too willing to share about with classmates the next day at school.

Nothing. They lose. And we lose with them.

I came to realize that no matter what I do, when my boys are out and about, I have no say in what they see or hear. It is often the roughest, dirtiest, scariest bits that come out that way. Resilience? Hardly a match for today’s challenges.

We are each parenting our own children, or so we should, but we are also parenting other people’s. As soon as my sons leave home to go to school in the morning, the things they learn at home and the examples we set as parents will show.

We’re in it together. It is the proverbial village called upon to raise the children that will do that. The way I see it, I am parenting some of the Kamloops children together with my own and so is every Kamloops parent out there.

Let’s not let our children down. Mine and yours. Ours.

Unseen

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On February 12, 2014

In Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories

SilentIt was early afternoon and quiet. Nothing stirred and yet the snow on the ground had been pinched by countless legs, some coming in fours, others in twos. Soon after we took the trail through the trees, it became a game.

‘What’s this?’
‘Deer.’

‘And this?’
‘Coyote.’

‘Really?’
‘Yes, see the poop next to it?’

Poop mentions always draw big laughs. Yes, it will be like that for a while. It’d better.

‘What’s this?’
‘Oh, maybe a bobcat?’ Are there any here?

TrekWe are at Greenstone Mountain, it is family day and it’s a boys’ first longer hike through deep snowy woods.

‘Are there bears here?’
A reasonable concern. But nope, we tell them. They’re asleep. We hope…

Walk some more, it’s quiet and less spectacular for action-loving boys.
‘Can we sled?’
‘Yes, soon…’

We follow a side path, it’s an old snowmobile track covered in fresh snow and occasionally intersecting with an animal-only track running across. I wish I could understand them and the stories they hide, all the paws and legs that festoon the forest unseen by humans.

‘Shh… be quiet for a bit. Listen.’

A woodpecker raps against a tree not far from where we are. Then a soft trill of an unknown (by us) bird follows swiftly. Then it’s quiet again. We wait. Again. Woodpecker, unknown bird, silence.

The boys’ eyes, barely seen under the thick hats, grow big and round. How could they not. The unseen world revealing itself just enough to make them look around more carefully and scan the tracks with increased determination.

Ready, slope, sledWe come across a slope just perfect for sledding. Steep to climb but oh, the ride down with a bump and face-in-the-snow almost every time.

One boy goes classic-style, facing forward at all times and appropriately concerned about landing. The big brother, a thrill-seeker, tries everything: he sits backwards, then closes his eyes and the anticipatory afraid-but-loving-it screaming makes us all laugh. He rides on his riding on his tummy. Too wild, too bumpy, too tempting not to…

Once more and then we trek through the woods some more, just to the opening…
So we do.

Paws, softI see a big pile of old branches and trees and a flurry of paw prints leading right under it. Why, a bunny family of course! If only we could see them…

They can hear us. We can only imagine their presence. The unseen creatures, quietly crowded in spaces no man could crawl into, listening, breathing and listening and perhaps inching their way to the secret entrance once our voices and loud thumping depart.

‘Can we sled again on the way back?’
Slope’s waiting.

Our tracks will be sniffed for a long time. Animals will tilt their heads and look in the direction of our trekking through their woods.

Be quiet, never leave more than just tracks, even those are disruptive enough to the fine-nosed creatures here.

We’re visitors. We are grateful. We are given beauty and silence. Joy and laughter too. But mostly, the sense of wonder that only a walk through the woods in mid-winter can give you.

Horizon at duskLong grey clouds are piled up on top of each other over the blue-and-white speckled hills in the distance as we drive off the mountain.

We veer onto the highway and I wish there was a sign that said ‘You are now leaving the magic behind. On behalf of the unseen creatures whose marks you saw and wondered about, and whose woods you did not disturb and whose paths you did not purposely unravel, we thank you.’

I felt privileged.

The Reality of Our Fast Changing World

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On February 12, 2014

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

Note: As of last week, my former Kamloops Daily News ‘The way I See It’ column will be published on The Armchair Mayor News website in the columns section. A new adventure begins! 

Both my sons attend Stuart Wood Elementary. For now. They might not, soon, if the plans to close the school are realized. I wish they will not. The board meeting on February 17 may or may not result in heartache.

Sure the building is old and the yard is rather small. The building is not suited for wheelchair or stroller access either and that is a problem. But shuffling children and removing the school hub from downtown Kamloops is also a problem. A big one.

Children nowadays witness change on a regular basis. Major changes that is. My sons have recently witnessed the dismissal of the Kamloops Daily News, and they see entire neighborhoods change whenever we visit Vancouver.

Old heritage houses with lots of life in them are tore down and new large villas and mansions take their place. Old cedar trees silently guarding back yards have been taken down for three-car garages. The school the boys attended for a couple of years disappeared to make room for a new top-of-the-line building.

Straight angles have never been straighter.

Change is part of life. It always has been. Nowadays though one cannot escape the feeling of change being pushed forth not out of necessity but sometimes for economic reasons, or simply because old is slowly losing its appeal due to its apparent lack of functionality.

In the case of Stuart Wood elementary school, creativity can be employed to retrofit the building to address current concerns. Many old buildings could be preserved at a lower cost than it would cost to tear them down and build new ones.

With them, the sense of community would also be preserved, and the history behind it. If learning is what we want our children to do, then a lesson in the history and importance of preserving the past would be a good one to start with. Roots are important.

In the age of everything moving fast and at a pace that we often have trouble adjusting to, grounding should be a community goal. I cannot think of a better way to express care for one’s home community, whether one is born in it or has been recently transplanted, as our family has.

Neighborhood changes are perhaps a projection of the larger scale ones. Or the other way around. Which makes it fair to say they are the cause and effect of each other, a vicious circle we witness daily.

Our children hear of species on the brink of extinction, they hear of changes in the world environment brought on by global warming, which can be traced to massive changes in how we exploit natural resources and dispose of what is deemed to be less modern.

Parents wonder what the world will look like when today’s children will become adults. How much of today will be lost and at what cost?

In every life endeavor pace is important. So is consideration for what serves a community best. Learning could start with a lesson in continuity and how creativity can salvage old beloved buildings. In a fast-changing world, continuity ensures grounding.

Changes based on necessity have the potential to foster healthy growth. Of people and communities. They also have the potential to teach children lessons that might become key to not worrying what the future holds for their children when they become adults.

It’s only fair to keep that in mind in everything we do.

These Are … Whose Games?

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On January 30, 2014

In Environment, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

It’s snowing white plump butterflies and all I can think of is snow tumbles and plain silly fun. Snowfall with chubby snowflakes is as quiet as can be, but also loud in what it evokes in one’s soul. Winter magic, you know.

To that, one could add the titillating countdown to the Winter Olympics in Sochi and there you have it: winter fun, hard work, celebration of people dedicating so much of themselves for the love of the game. Soul inebriation at its best. If you have severe tunnel vision that is…

Why? I will explain.

I was never a dedicated armchair sports fan but the Olympic Games have a way of tying most of us down and making us rub our hands with excitement and anticipation. Witnessing the magic in intoxicating, isn’t it?

Yet as the time of the Sochi Olympic Games approaches the magic fades, only partially, one could hope, making way for the somber reality to set in.

The games this year are the most taxing so far in the history of Olympic Games, according to many experts. Sochi residents are confronted with the least glamorous side of it. They are poorer than ever before and have given up the hope that their neighborhoods will be upgraded to livable status. There are half-demolished outhouses that you have to wade through muck to get to. The contrast with the sparkling details of the side of the community where the games are taking place is shameful at best. And humiliating, in the midst of all that winter sparkle.

No one could have predicted the present decrepit reality of the ‘invisible’ Sochi seven years ago when the rather worn-out Black Sea resort was awarded the great honour of hosting the Olympic Games.

Stop at that for a bit. Honour.

There is no honour in pushing people into squalor. Socially speaking, the games will unfortunately increase an existing inequality.

It’s a struggle to find the concept of honour reflected in most aspects of this year’s big games, which is a shame and an insult to all athletes and their supporters. Estimated to be the most expensive, at a cost of over $50 billion dollars, the Sochi Games have, for starters, an environmental footprint that will take years, if at all, to erase. Large areas have been deforested, rivers and large patches of land have been soiled, and sponsors like Gazprom have their name up in gold letters as supporters of winter fun.

A petition originated by SumOfUs.org is fighting to get people to boycott the imprisonment of two Orca whales in a dolphinarium at the Sochi Olympic Games. Bad karma? You could say so. Our actions paint our image after all. We are what we look at, you’d have to agree. Imprisoned animals in this case.

There are stories of corruption and large sums of money being pocketed by the already rich ones just like there are stories of many migrant workers who were not paid their hard earned wages after the work was done. Inequality hurts terribly when you’re on the wrong side of the equation.

There are threats of terrorist attacks from groups that have claimed a couple of suicide bombing attacks last month in the nearby city of Volgograd.

In the light of all of this, the question is: What has become of the glory of the Olympic Games? There are giant concerns, some of which were briefly shared above, and more will come to light. Athletes should not have to concern themselves with possible terrorist attacks, social or political issues that taint the coming together of many nations in celebration of winter sports.

Sochi citizens should benefit from being the hosts of such a major sports event. Instead, they see a parallel world that is being built right in their backyard (for some literally,) a world that is surreal and glamorous, a world that most of them will never get to even visit let alone enjoy once the games are over.

The Olympic Games should be about the joy of competing and displaying the fruit of years of training hard and believing you can surpass your wildest and highest expectations. A celebration of sportsmanship, a learning experience of gigantic proportions and memories to last a lifetime.

I know what you’re thinking. Big games are also about big money. And politics finds its way into the big games as well. True enough. But principles should be there too. As a sign of respect to the nature of the game, as a tribute to humanity and as a way to elevate people’s spirits. The Olympic Games should not just be for the benefit of a handful of athletes, sponsors or organizers. After all, the Olympic flame is still burning after many years, the image of an ideal that is not allowed to die. Why do we allow our common values to take a plunge then?

The question remains: Why take away so much of the magic of the games from the people who work the hardest to get there, from those who offer their space to host it and from all of us who believe in witnessing such monumental events? There’s sweat and dreams rolled up in hope, there’s expectations and joy. They should not, at any time, be soiled by less than acceptable standards, environmentally, socially and politically speaking.

 

The Case of Missing Innocence – A Sequel

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On January 28, 2014

In Kamloops, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement, Social issues

Last night I attended Jesse Miller‘s talk about kids and social media: the good, the bad and the ugly. As expected, ugly can get uglier with a click and Miller explained how.

The topic is as heavy as it is complicated. The recurring refrain was the one that seems to be the only viable solution, yet somehow the hardest to apply: dialogue. Children love to talk and they have a hefty amount of common sense which gets diluted with time.

If there was ever a time when parents have to hold on to their kids for dear life, I’d say this is it. The ever expansive social experiment of already gargantuan dimensions keeps on growing and the risk of losing ourselves and our children in it grows with it.

Children are barely prepared for life when they make their debut on any social media, that is a fact. Miller emphasized that. Children have the means to understand tech, they have the firing synapses that allow them to understand how the internet works and, thanks to their parents and a killer set of nag-plea-implore-till-you-get strategies, they have access to the latest in smartphone innovation.

But, they miss life experience. And it shows, sooner than expected. That’s where the parents come in. Ideally, through open dialogue that happens regularly rather than when the unthinkable happens, which is why last night’s talk took place to begin with.

Interestingly enough though, many parents commit their children to the unforgiving forces of social media very early on. The perspective offered by Miller was an eye-opener for many I hope. Parents dump folder after folder of family photos on Facebook and Instagram; instances of their children’s life milestones, from the trenches of potty training to the glamour of graduation, and everything in between.

Many children who are now tweens and teens – the high risk category for offending, are becoming offenders or victims – have had a camera pointed at them since they can remember. Miller aptly points to the obvious: What are they going to do when they are given their own device? That’s right: Click and post.

The question that is always left unanswered in my opinion is this: Why do we feel the need to share so much detail with strangers? I am challenged by the notion of friendship of Facebook, I said it before. How did we become comfortable with the idea of sharing life bits? Why do we allow hundreds of people, Facebook friends, Instagram or Twitter followers, peek at our life events while still insisting on pulling the curtains at night?

There were a handful of take home messages last night, such as:

  • Establish some good boundaries that will allow you to set a good example (no touching the phone while driving for example, no phone at the dinner table, and disconnect during family time)
  • Talk to your kids about the dangers of sharing personal details with hordes of strangers (a couple of high school kids in the audience confirmed that many of their peers take photos of their driver’s license and post it online)
  • Everything (or almost everything) that one posts online stays somewhere online. Scary to think about now that so much of your life is out there? That’s the point. Privacy is no longer to be expected.

There wasn’t a lot of talking about the sensible topic of inappropriate ‘selfies’ (the word of the year in 2013, and yes feel free to cringe) which caused an uproar at the South Kamloops Secondary School, but these share the same fate with the rest of things shared: They’ll be somewhere out there long after one wishes they’ll be gone. what’s worse, they become grounds for cyber bullying, shaming and, as seen over the last few years, they can push young people to commit suicide.

A chilling fact shared by Miller last night was the high number of views Amanda Todd’s You Tube video got after she died. In the millions that is. Sadly ironic, she was trying to attract attention to her case so that bullying would stop. It didn’t, until she took her own life.

‘Trending’, another strong social media term, makes no distinction between good and bad. if it gains audience it trends. Children should not be expected to make fair judgment calls about the content they see. Social media where information, questionable or not, piles up like a hundred avalanches a day, will keep being what it is: A repository that may or may not contain your child’s life bits, photos and opinions about life.

That’s why parents need to step in and provide guidance. it’s a learning experience for parents and children, but clumsiness makes both parties endearing to each other rather than resentful, so indulge. let loose, show that you’ve never done the social media thing before but maintain the one thing every parent should: That you know more about life and that puts you not in the friend seat but the parent seat. it’s a privilege and a challenge, and believe it or not, children know it and expect it.

For now, it comes down to this: boundaries and common sense have to be there. They have no expiration date because no matter where you are in life, if you make them your allies, you’ll be on solid ground.

I left the room last night with a lot of questions, and with an enhanced perspective over an issue that has been with me for a long time now.

in 2012, following Amanda Todd’s death, I left Facebook. I did not want to be a bystander. I knew, just like I know today, that children younger then 14 are allowed on Facebook when they should not be and that is akin to allowing them to drive long before they have the skills or maturity to do so. I knew, just like I know today, that in some parts of that virtual space someone is being bullied and someone might just decide to end their life to stop their suffering and the public shaming.

More than a year after that, I made my appearance on Facebook again, with the sole intention of sharing my writing, which, I was told, might just be a shame to miss if the issue is worth sharing.

My personal page though, which I need to have in order to have an author page, has been stripped to almost nothing. I took down the few photos I shared back when I thought Facebook to be a connection tool with faraway family and friends because I find no reason to share life bits like that. Sure it takes effort and time to maintain correspondence with those who matter, but then again, such efforts are nothing but an illustration of our caring for them, and the other way around.

I don’t expect anyone to share my beliefs, and I also fear that pending lack of engagement on the said platform over issues that I write about and I consider important, I might opt out again.

The thing is, there is a lack of strict boundaries that troubles me. One could argue that the plethora of social media platforms makes the denial of one almost insignificant. True. But I would like to take one of the messages from last night’s talk and solidify it: Do as you expect your children to do.

I have an open dialogue with my sons. To a fault, one could say. Yes, that close, and I am nothing but grateful for it. There is nothing we shy away from when it comes to talking and debating. To listening. I want to keep that alive: the openness, and the gratefulness attached to it.

But I also want to set boundaries that I hope will inspire my sons to think that in all the craziness of hurried, privacy-robbed times, our living space maintained enough common sense to spill into their decisions as they grow up.

One could hope.

 

 

The Value of Humble

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On January 20, 2014

In Kamloops, Life Stories, Motherhood

The car broke down over the weekend. It could be a small thing or a big one, as it often with cars. It could be solved in a day or the car could be a write-off. Yes, one of those. A humbling event that points to dependence, a sorry attribute of the intrepid human spirit one could argue.

No car meant we had to postpone the Harper Mountain ski outing planned for Sunday and it also means walking everywhere with a bike ride here and there, ice-permitting. The patches of hardened ice can be unforgiving to the blissfully, occasionally unaware or hurried human.

We walked to school this morning. A perfect opportunity for the four of us to talk, debate, laugh, point out to this and that and see the morning. It makes cheeks red and cold and it warms the heart. Why not then?

Midday is still sharp cold and I ride my new bike to town. My face is frozen and the feeling of car-less freedom is absolutely exhilarating. Soon I will pick up the boys.

On the way back the boys have stories, questions. We stop to look at leafs trapped in ice, some hiding under their perfectly shaped ice-images and ‘How could that be mom?’… Do you know? Isn’t it nice that there’s still why questions that leave you humbled and wondering…

We talk about Thomas Edison. The boys point to the unbelievable value of his discoveries, the light bulb most of all… ‘What if he had not invented it, mom?’ Indeed. What if. I point out to something that I often decry the slow and sure death of: patience, persistence over things that matter and we believe in even when they are mere ideas.

I point to relentless as one awe-inspiring quality of the human spirit. The boys are trapped in words and ideas, they are as fascinating to talk to as the leaves they point out as wonders along the way.

In the early evening, karate training sends us ten blocks away from home. It is snappy cold but Sasha hops on his scooter. We go slow enough to manage uneven sidewalk and occasional patches of ice. And we talk. Times becomes that much more precious.

After I drop him off I walk to the store, stock up on the bare necessities and walk up on 3rd Street. There are people here and there, fragments of laughter, conversations, cars driving too fast in the dark, taking turns that make me jump backwards… And then time stops again when the organ from within the Sacred Heart Cathedral envelops the cold in ‘Ode of Joy.’

How privileged to witness that. How easy to miss from a car where music might play – even the same tunes would not be the same – or conversations are tossed relentlessly. How important to witness this at least once.

I turn around at the top of the hill just before I enter a warm coffee shop. The North Shore sparkles. Silent. Close by, luminous darts of cars driving fast down on Victoria Street point to fast, another facet of Kamloops.

I listen and remember. My old hometown at night, as I saw it so many times from up on the hill where my parents home was. It was very similar to here, now. Surrounding hills, trains ushering their way through snow and sunshine alike, a river running through the middle of it and bridges as walkable cinches connecting one side to the other.

The sense of belonging creeped in and it felt good and warm, just like the coffee shop I was about to step in and the warmth of the heart I hold near mine waiting for me there.

A long day ends with both boys saying ‘It’s been a good day.’ We smile to each other. We did well. The car is not fixed yet. It turns out it’s not just a little thing. It will take a while. Everything happens for a reason. I know that already.

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