Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Self-improvement Page 14 of 29

Compassion Builds A Better Kamloops

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On November 6, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Health, Learning, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

Originally published as a column in the CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on Monday November 6, 2017. 

It was almost midnight, almost Friday, when I started writing this. The house was quiet and warm and outside sudden wind gushes were throwing snow up in the air creating white ghosts that seemed unable to make up their minds which way to go. The heavy snow that started the night before draped thick over the city and surroundings.

It’s winter wonderland around us for sure, and I love the quiet I get immersed in during my morning hikes with the dog, and I love the swirls I see dancing through the window on a windy night. But I know all this joy would be obliterated, should I not have a warm abode to come back to when I am done.

Which is why the opening of the homeless shelter by the Kamloops Branch of the Canadian Mental Health Association on November 1 is a timely, welcome event. I dropped in during the open house held last Monday in what used to be the gym of Stuart Wood Elementary School. It had been a while since I was there last, when the boys were still in school and my husband and I would go see the plays, usually held in the gym. It looked different now. Mattresses were arranged neatly in rows, dressed, and each with a blanket; waiting.

Staff members showed me around. ‘Here’s the kitchen, the laundry area which the staff will operate, the extra sleeping room for those who snore or have pets…’ There was a sense of accomplishment in the air. No one will be turned away, I am told. The shelter has a 50-person capacity but if need be, rearranging the space will make room for more. No one will be left in the cold… I go back to playing that sentence in my head. It is humbling to realize how lucky we are, all of us who never had to worry about a warm bed at the end of the day, more so in winter.

I cannot think of a better use for the old Stuart Wood school building. It is after all a building that sits empty at a time when temperatures are dropping to painfully cold. Once again, Kamloops shows its heart, and I know it will continue to do so with every opportunity.

Then came the weekend. If you happened by the Superstore on Summit Drive or the Independent Grocer on the North Shore on Saturday, you might’ve noticed some big army trucks and people in uniforms. The Rocky Mountain Rangers in collaboration with the Food Bank did a food drive which brought in 1,200 pounds of food and other needed items. More is always needed.

Truth is, our society sees a lot of stuff, perishable or non-perishable food items, and many other objects, go to waste. Many of us have long lost items that are in perfectly good shape yet lost among other objects in our home. We often see food end up in the garbage in our own home and in food stores too, and yet hunger is still a reality for many. There are initiatives that show the opposite is possible though and that’s where hope lies. The foodSHARE program by the Kamloops Food Bank helped divert 9 million pounds of food from the landfill and use it for food programs and, if expired, as animal feed.

I’ve heard some say that this time a year you cannot go anywhere without being asked for donations and it can become too much. There is even a name for it: compassion fatigue. Yet I encourage you to not give that thought too much room to grow. There are many people at the receiving end who count on our compassion to get a meal, the bare necessities for life, or a warm bed to sleep in. Many of them may be fatigued by life and its trials, yet they cannot step away from it just by looking the other way.

The Poppy Campaign conducted by the Canadian Legion (all funds go to veterans and their dependents) has volunteers stand many hours no matter the weather conditions, because every little bit helps, and they believe in it to brave the elements. There’s the Christmas Cheer Fund (all funds go to those in need), more food drives still, and hospital charity campaign. Then there is the stuff that comes in the mailbox or via petitions online.

Also, some argue that if money is donated, not enough goes to those in need but it is diverted towards administrative funds and such. That in itself is a whole conversation, yet if too much energy and time is put into in bashing some of the fundraising campaigns, there is a risk of not leaving enough consideration for those in need who are at the receiving end.

If that is a troubling thought, I encourage you to look for opportunities to help right in our own backyard. Whether it is food donated to the Food Bank, or items needed by shelters such as the newly opened CMHA shelter (twin fitted sheets and quilts, pillows, pillow cases, towels, changes of clothes, for example) or time you could set aside to help as a volunteer, please welcome the opportunity.

I’d argue that compassion is the most significant gesture that can make a difference in one’s life. For those who give, aware of the hardship people endure, and for those who receive the help in any form or shape, the bond of compassion is one that holds society together and puts one’s faith in humanity back into place. People in Kamloops have proved it many times and that is something to be fiercely proud of.

Trick or Treat: The (Even) Darker Side Of Halloween

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On November 1, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Self-improvement, Social issues

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on October 30, 2017. 

Just a few days ago, a big explosion and fire at a firework factory in Tangerang, Indonesia, killed at least 47 people. The death toll will likely continue to rise as many of the survivors have suffered severe burns. Among the dead, a 14-year-old girl.

My mind raced to the banners draped around town announcing great sales on fireworks. I am sure I am not the only one thinking that some of the fireworks being manufactured there are likely shipped to Canada for Halloween. It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it? The factory, which seemed to have employed underage workers and had some serious safety violations, was only two months old, much like the Halloween stores we see popping up around town prior to October 31. We have to wonder where all that (cheap) stuff is coming from and who makes it.

I have already stated on more than one occasion that I am not a big fan of the one-use plastic and other questionable stuff sold for Halloween. If all would be reused to eternity, perhaps I can lend a more lenient thought towards it, but that’s beyond wishful thinking. We would not have so much excess to begin with.

Truth is, as soon as school’s back, summer items are cleared off the shelf and the Halloween merchandise returns, outdoing itself every year, and without a doubt redefining the concept of excessive. There isn’t much consideration for what it takes to bring all that merchandise to stores, or what happens to it afterwards, whether in the customers’ hands or as store surplus. Hopefully the unsold items will be saved for next year’s Halloween.

Many of the costumes though, and some of the decorations too, will likely break because that’s what cheap, fast-manufactured items do. Then, it’s the landfill, which really sees a surge after every big celebration and not only then. The scary thing is, there used to be a couple of big celebrations in the past. Now thanks to marketing wizards, there’s barely any time to breathe between them. As a society, we have shortened and fake-sweetened the distance from non-renewable resources to trash via disposable items with the most tragic long-term consequences.

This is not the case of the Halloween Grinch (how scary would that be?) but rather an argument for a return to simple fun, creativity and much less waste. After all, if it is about the kids, let’s really make it about the kids. The last thing they need in a plastic- and garbage-choked world, is a laissez-faire attitude on our part when it comes to footing the bill for celebrations like Halloween (and all the other ones too.)

Just imagine if all decorations and costumes would be homemade. The creativity involved in such endeavours would be the first great thing that comes to mind; then would be the time kids and parents would spend making them, having lots of fun with ideas, some of which may prove too hard to materialize, as some ideas do, while others will become memorable creations.

Then there will be all that time spent hands-on, minds active and far away from devices that numb them on a regular basis. There will be some frustration too, as all handmade projects carry a dose of that necessary and inevitable feeling, due to various limitations. But then, there’s the joy of finishing projects, and all that good self-confidence that comes from it. That is one amazing gift to give to our children.

As I write this, my youngest – the only one left to do the trick-or-treat in the family, and this is his last year too, – is painting a design on a homemade Roman shield. He worked very hard to bring it to this point, getting deep enough in frustration at times, just to emerge a while later with a better solution in mind. With a bit of help maneuvering woodworking tools, he also made himself a wooden sword and came up with the rest of the items for his Roman soldier costume. No, it will not look identical to a movie set costume, but perfection was never, not should ever be, part of the design.

Much like they say free money has no value, and no matter how much you get, it’ll get squandered in no time, excess merchandise such as decorations and ready-made realistic costumes will never make Halloween better or more memorable. Frankly speaking, they’ll partly make it a source of garbage, most of it unseen, because that is the story of garbage, and most of it will be disposable, single-use stuff, such as the glue-on rainbow eyelashes and blood-oozing-on-demand plastic face masks I saw in a store a few days ago, along with way too numerous to list items. We already know too well that less is more.

As with other aspects of our everyday life, remembering that in the grand scheme of things we’re but a blink, mere guests, in the history of the Earth, the best celebratory attitude should come with the least amount of trash left behind for our ‘host’ to deal with. At the end of the day, it’s not the Earth that is left with the ever-growing bill for all celebratory disposable paraphernalia, but our children and their children. Which is why we should give a better consideration to the question: Will it be tricks or treats that we hand over to them, year after year?

Learning To Be A Leftie; With Gratitude

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On October 26, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

Part of the definition of humbled comes from having one’s body part fail in some way. It’s a swift and powerful reminder of how fragile the balance is after all, and how easily forgotten our limitations are. When I say limitations, I do not mean we’re fragile by design and thus doomed, but that the tissues that form our bodies are, after all, no matter how many miles you run, swim or cycle in a day, breakable. Knowing that adds beautiful dimensions to life, doesn’t it, just as much as it adds that inescapable feeling of doom. Do not give into it though, that’s not what this is about.

More humbling yet is that the occasional painful reminder inserts itself mysteriously into your daily routine and there’s not telling where it came from or when it will end. There’s also a silly resemblance to a mouse you’d hold by its tail, if you will, though no tails are needed to paint this picture. You’re the mouse. It’s the nagging discomfort that holds you upside down until you figure out how to reposition yourself upright with grace and dignity; or at least one of them.

I am learning how to be a leftie these days, for two weeks ago a tendon in my right hand decided to travel away from its well-designed groove (or what seemed to be well-designed up to this point anyway) and over the knuckle it went, leaving an empty space behind and lots of questions in my mind as to why the sudden change. Mystery is the salt of life? Perhaps. Less funny when you’re it. Acceptance, they say, is what carries you to where the said grace and dignity reside.

Past the annoyance of pain and inability to carry on with the usual activities using my trusted right hand (I trust them both, but I have obviously favourited my right one so far), there is a side of me that is fascinated with the current limitations. As I walk around protecting my right hand from further injury, I am humbled by the realization that the rest of me works just fine and that that is a level of wonder many of us have come to acknowledge as an ordinary state of affairs as we go about our day. I’d say we ought to declare that a sin of some sort.

Would it be too much to say we take ourselves for granted? Never before has more research poured out our way, laying as thick as can be the knowledge that should keep us working in good order for the rest of our lives: eat healthy instead of pretending to or finding lame excuses to binge such as ‘you only live once’, sleep enough (despite of the lifeless blue-bad-for-you-light gadgets promising the world which by the way, they’ll never deliver but we take our chances anyway), get up and move around so our veins don’t turn stiff too soon; you get the idea.

The thing is, for the most part, we go about our days treating our bodies with a certain degree of recklessness, fully unaware of the wonders they carry within. On the days when a Facebook post reminds us poetically that we are but stardust, we throw a longer gaze at our sun-kissed forearms or spend a few extra minutes looking at our reflection in the mirror, wondering how it is that atoms linked together become vision, taste, or awareness of the sudden flutter of a moth we startled as we walked by and brushed against the curtains.

So here’s to wishing that my days spent as a leftie (that will be a few weeks, I am told) will leave me with an extra helping of gratitude for being able to clench my fists whenever I need to (in the near future), or sew a button on my oldest son’s shirt, or paint, chop onions and carrots, make apple sauce, and throw some dice when the days end with playing a board game, which I am hoping they will. Simplicity. Taking sips from the half-full glass and trusting that it’ll never run empty.

It’s the simple things that carry the biggest reminders; perhaps because as we go through life we realize that there is no big story waiting to happen that will help us unlock gratitude. The secret lies with the small, simple events that we spin into long threads, day after day, which then we make into tapestries, knots showing, because that’s what this story is all about. Some times are knottier than others. Be it so, keeping it real is what we’re here for. To wish for no bigger blessing than to be able to remember all of this I go along, no matter if my hands are available to help me do so, that is what I am hoping the days spent as a leftie will leave behind.

The Many Sides Of A Perpetuating Story

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On October 26, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on October 23, 2017. 

If you are even somewhat present in social media, you have likely come across the hashtag campaign #MeToo, spurred by the recent accusations of sexual harassment and assault against famous movie producer Harvey Weinstein. A lot of women came forward to tell their own stories of encountering the media mogul and, headline after headline, the ugliness kept flowing. It has also spilled in Canada, with the recent sexual allegations against the Just for Laughs founder, Gilbert Rozon.

These are not cases of entertainment industry sensationalism; sexual harassment happens around us and victims are most often left to address it alone, ashamed, and fearful of speaking up. The campaign drew many of us into the conversation about sexual harassment, and the trauma it inflicts. Trouble is, life is one fast flowing river and the momentum becomes yesterday’s news, though the impact was real and palpable at the time. Blame it on information overload, but let’s not leave it at that.

Exiting this one story too soon carries serious consequences. The story of sexual harassment is one that surfaces occasionally and when it does it triggers painful memories for those who suffered through it. It is fair to remark that sexual harassment does not only happen to women, though three times as many women are affected compared to the number of men.

Male-dominated professions are often the environment where these stories surface, but that is not the only place where they happen. While the argument about whether a woman can do a man’s job is what many bring forth as an explanation for the unwanted attention women get in certain workplaces, assessing one’s abilities should be based on whether they can perform the said task or not, rather than become grounds for sexual harassment.

If we care not to look sideways when a story of sexual harassment happens, we have the chance to rewrite and redesign societal norms that have been endorsing victim-blaming while often allowing the aggressor to find escape routes from prosecution, allowing the dust of forgetfulness to settle for mostly everyone except for those who suffered through it. To be fair, we have come a long way already, but we have a good length to go still until everyone, female or male, can be safe from sexual harassment no matter their job or life circumstances.

Another side of this ugly reality of everyday life is the presence of bystanders. Often conditioned by fear of losing a job, or angering a powerful person, bystanders add one more layer of wrongness to the process, their lack of proper and rightful action ultimately taking away the victim’s right to justice and further access to resources that can prevent long-term trauma.

The heartbreaking story of Amanda Todd, the 15-year-old girl from Port Coquitlam who committed suicide five years ago on October 10, after being severely and relentlessly sexually harassed online is still haunting me and many others. Immediately prior to her death, and many times before that, she tried to speak up and make her pain visible to others. Unfortunately, that did not happen soon enough, though many were aware of her story.

This is a pervasive and shameful societal sin, if you will, the isolation of the victim through the silence of by-standers or, even worse, the blaming of the victim by joining the chorus that mercilessly sings the most wrong tune of all: ‘She must’ve done something to provoke it…’

Most of us can admit that we know enough to do better as a society. Where do we start getting rid of all this dark and painful ugliness? As with many other things, one way to go is to start our children right, by education them about what the whole bullying process (sexual harassment is after all a sick manifestation of power over someone) and everyone involved: the bully, the bullied and those who see but choose to remain silent, or worse, side with the aggressor. Healthy boundaries are everyone’s right to have and everyone’s duty to respect.

Teaching our children to respect the opposite sex takes more than just words though. We ought to model what we preach, standing up when needed, carrying a continuous dialogue that helps keep the issue in the open rather than making it a dark secret hidden in some corner. Let’s not forget that our children hear more than we care to admit these days, disturbing stories of sexual harassment included. It makes sense that parents explain these terms and further explain what respectful behaviour is about.

Educating children can take us to a better future, but what about now? There are a few things to address, and sooner than later: the widespread presence of pornography (secretly accepted by many, yet rarely talked about honestly and with the intention of preventing sexual abuse which the industry often portrays as entertaining,) the need to provide women and men with a safe place to relate of any sexual misconduct that makes them feel threatened in any way at their workplace or any other walk of life, and the great power to do good we all have by refusing to be bystanders.

It’s a big subject and, granted, an uncomfortable one for many, but it is one worth tackling, because now we know enough to not allow it to happen anymore. Because the trauma it leaves behind is often lifelong and even claiming people’s lives, unfortunately. It’s a matter of better choices and honour. We’re capable of both. A hashtag such as #MeToo should not only be an indication of a widespread issue of sexual harassment and abuse, but should be made into a collective promise of doing better as a society.

Marigolds And Fall. A Song That Keeps Repeating

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On September 26, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Health, Learning, Life Stories, Self-improvement

I sit at the top of the stairs with a plateful of Italian plums after working in the garden. The harvest so far includes four squashes of variable sizes, one gigantic zucchini, a bucket of red and orange tomatoes, and a bowl of shelled beans, red and white. The red ones are plumper, according to lil’ boy, whom I half-buried in a dry pile of bean bushes for the purpose of shelling.

I pulled out bunches of overgrown red and golden dry grasses, disturbing the marigolds and causing a storm of fragrance to clutch to my nose. Their smell is strongly pushing its way into my memory, stomping on everything, leaving but my dad’s slender figure, crouched over weeds and marigolds in our garden. He would work and tell stories, or joke about this or that, or answer many of my many questions about the garden.

He’d find bugs and show them to me, his voice steady and pleasant. My mom would come and join us, standing on the stone path, her hands carrying traces of flour and delicious smells from the kitchen. Dinner was both a promise and a gift, wrapped in togetherness.

Fall, the smell of dirt and marigolds, my mom’s voice calling us to dinner, and the occasional buzzing of a lost and forgotten summer bug, the distant wailing of a train, they all surfaced today when I chased the summer out of our small garden.

I sit at the top of the stairs realizing, plum after plum, that I ache for those times of gardening with my parents. My sister is the only other keeper of these precious times… I sit and remember, plum by plum. It’s no use to get teary but I do. I miss fall gardening with faint smells of leaf smoke from the piles everyone gathered at the end of September.

I look at the pile of garden waste I made in the back yard next to the garden patch. There are the huge squash and zucchini vines, tired and sloppy-looking, the broken tomato plants, weeds, and the dry bean and pea plants. A pile as big and colourful as my pile of memories. The sky is a beautiful, dreamy blue, gossamer-like clouds spread all over the hills, softening thoughts and dulling the sharp edges of memories that are happy and sad at once.

It’s a progression of sorts, I know that much. Summer to fall to winter and spring again. This is where you get to try again next season. People transition to memories and to more memories. That is the part that leads to the inelegance of my gaze, all teary and bending under the weight of all that cannot be again. It’s the part I process by sitting at the top of our back stairs, looking over the dry hills poking into the blue, and, eating plum after plum, dusty hands and all, I make peace, once again, with the fall, the garden where my parents visit only as memories and my stubbornness to let go.

The afternoon air hugs me warm and fragrant. I walk through short, stubby grass back to the garden. There are still the thick, dark kale bushes to care for and a whole bunch of green tomatoes to ripen. There’s the rosemary and lavender bushes; they will survive the winter. As for marigolds… I’ll plant some again next spring.

 

 

In Memoriam Christopher Seguin – Living To The Fullest, Giving To The Fullest

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On September 25, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on Monday, September 25, 2017. 

On Friday morning during a hike with a friend and our dogs, the conversation drifted towards what it means to live with gratefulness and to not take people for granted. I carried those thoughts with me throughout the day, wondering yet again, how to best convey what is of value and worthiness to my sons, so they can build their journeys in a way that matters. Not just to themselves, but to those they love and are loved by, as well as to countless others they can help along the way. Because that’s what makes everything worthwhile. Because life is not a solitary, selfish pursuit.

Friday night came with the heartbreaking news of Christopher Seguin’s sudden passing. He was an active, wholehearted presence in our community, but most of all, he was known as a loving husband and father to two young sons.

The sad news touched me deeply as I have lived through the sudden death of my loved ones. I remember feeling guilty for looking at the blue sky and for being able to smell flowers and wake up to another day. I was angry for all that was taken away from me too soon, and too suddenly. It was hard to make sense of something that was senseless, unchangeable, and yet a part of life.

In losing many loved ones starting from an early age, I have grown into someone who does not value things (to a fault, really,) but time and presence. I grieved for my children losing their maternal grandparents before they had a chance to build enough or any memories with them. I grieved for all the things I wanted to share with my parents about my life as an adult, and as a parent myself.

Healing meant passing on the stories my parents once told me, going back to those words of wisdom heard over many a cup of coffee and long-drawn dinners, and sharing that with my sons, in hope to keep their grandparents’ presence palpable.

Without being a fatalist, I often remind myself and my family that what we have is now. We can guess about tomorrow, but we do not have much of it in our grasp. That we do not is not discouraging but reinforcing the fact that making every moment count is what matters in the end. There is no telling when that last day comes.

We find healing through honouring our loved ones’ legacies and making them an integral part of our lives. A mesh of sorts that carries adversity, courage, kindness, humbleness, heartbreak, joy, and resilience. A mesh we inherit, add to, pass on, and thus contribute to that big picture we know nothing of when we first arrive and we marvel at during our journey.

Christopher Seguin’s legacy is one that much can be built on. He helped many through his hard work and dedication, he lent his time, energy, and heart to many causes, and he left a most beautiful and indelible mark on this world through the love for his family.

In a beautiful message to his son from the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro he said ‘It is adversity that evolves us… It is through carrying the heavy loads that we grow stronger, and it is only through solving the world’s problems that we grow smarter…’. He contributed a lot to solving some of the world’ problems by helping many in the community and beyond, and now his legacy inspires all of us to continue his good work.

Rest in peace, Christopher Seguin. Thank you for being a big heart in this community. You are a role model Kamloops is fortunate to have had and to continue to learn from.

Please consider contributing to a trust fund account for his two young sons at any Kamloops CIBC branch.  

Live and Let Live – Does It Still Apply?

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On September 18, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Health, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Self-improvement

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on Monday, September 18, 2017. 

Two years ago on a sunny early afternoon in June while driving to Vancouver, my family and I witnessed something that has yet to be surpassed in absurdity and, I got to say, horror. Passing a lady riding her motorbike up the hill past Merritt, we noticed that she was texting while driving. Distracted driving taken to a whole new level. Talk about a teachable moment for the boys and a new level of awareness for us adults.

How many people do that? How many people I drive by who, unbeknownst to me and many others, are either distracted by their phones, are under the influence of alcohol or drugs, or tired enough to fall asleep, even for a second, which is often a long enough second to change lives forever and for the worse? How many times was I, my loved ones, or you and your loved ones close enough but lucky enough to still be here today…

Stats provide numbers to answer my questions. Many times. Car and motorcycle crashes in British Columbia have been increased in the last three years. According to ICBC stats, the number of crashes in BC in 2016 totalled 320,000. Which translates into an average of 875 collisions a day. Some are mild enough for the drivers and passengers to walk away and thank their lucky stars, while others result in tragedy.

There are 1.2 fatalities (to a total of 430 deaths per year,) and 18 hospitalizations per day, according to BC Injury and Prevention Unit. Impaired (alcohol, drugs, and extreme fatigue) and distracted driving (cell phone use) are the leading cause behind most of the crashes. Then comes speed.

I wrote before about speed and its ill consequences. I have been told by many that in Europe they have many highways without any speed limits, which leads to fewer crashes due to better flowing traffic and better driving. It’s an argument that could go on for a while I suppose. Regardless of what other countries’ rules are, in Canada we do have speed limits and they need to be heeded, or else risk a speedy mayhem of some kind. Should the day come when we’ll have some ‘no speed limit’ corridors, we will hopefully be wiser and better equipped to drive safely.

Until then, there are a few things that need attention in order to help everyone on the road get to where they are going safely. Laws that are reinforced constantly and tough punishments for those who violate them, given that they do not just put their lives in danger but many others’. Periodic drug and alcohol roadside screening checks as well as increased patrols to prevent distracted driving, province-wide (and further) education that puts the insanity of using cell phones while driving into perspective, installing traffic cameras especially in high risk collision areas, the list could go on.

We need to be good sports and model good behaviour for children when driving is concerned. If so many things that life throws our way are unpredictable, safe driving makes for one heck of a good chance of not dying sooner than we should, or becoming incapacitated in any way. Most of motor vehicle crash victims in BC are between 20 and 24 years old.

The thing is, all of this works better if we all do it. Well-intended individuals can be affected by someone’s careless, impaired, or distracted driving and, truth is, no consequence seems fitting for a life lost or affected irreversibly by an accident.

Beside the fact that it could be any one of us, there is yet another piece to this. It could happen whether you are in a car, on a bike, or simply walking like Jennifer Gatey did last November when she was struck and left to die on the side of the road.

The stories and tears that the victims’ families and friends carry in their hearts forever are heartbreaking. They make temporary news and make many of us more mindful, at least for a while. The reality is, according to all the stats above, we have yet to come closer to making the streets and highways safer. We are more rushed, we sleep less, and there are those who try their luck with driving under the influence or checking the cell phone while behind the wheel.

It takes one second for things to change forever. When you think of the millions of seconds we spend on the road every year, that means millions of chances to make it out alive every time. It is worth taking another look at our ways and putting a better foot forward.

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