Gratitude makes the journey better and so does kindness

Month: November 2011

Rhinos and Frogs and Us, Oh My (An Older Post)

Sasha keeps asking to go to the Aquarium. I hesitate. In fact, I plainly refuse to do so. Here’s why. The place that always tugs at my heart from opposite directions. They do a lot of conservation work and educate people about the fragile marine environment and how global warming is a reality we can no longer ignore. Almost extinct species are being cared for and hopefully they’ll multiply enough to be released in the wild. That’s one side, the bright one. And we need it like oxygen.

And then, the dark side. The gift shop just adjacent to the almost extinct frog species is selling plastic frogs. Many species of frogs are already extinct and present only as sad reminders in aquariums and other similar conservation places. Why are they extinct? Because we pollute the oceans, rivers and lakes by dumping all sorts of chemicals in them, because of our insatiable desire to acquire yet another thing, because we rely on non-renewable resources with all our might, because we deforest entire continents without thinking twice about it. Harsh but true. Louis XV was harshly criticized by his contemporaries and many generations after – my elementary history teacher included – for his lack of morals and the contended carelessness “Apres moi, le deluge“, “After me, the deluge.”  Whether he said it or not, no one knows for sure. But he sure acted like it. Back to the frogs, not that I actually left the issue. What’s wrong with buying mementos, you’ll say. They might serve as education tools. Might is not do. And if it were, do is not without fault, not in this case.  If the manufacturing factories spew chemicals in the air then the plastic frogs are not toys but bullets. For both frogs and kids. Later they become garbage after being thrown out. Some of the plastic frogs and pink belugas might end end up in the ocean – what bitter irony – where they add to the growing patches of garbage already floating there and damaging marine life to the point of killing it. It’s just like complaining that kids are overweight while continuing to feed them fast food. It’s simply wrong.

I know that gift shops such as this are yet another way of raising money for research that will ultimately help the animals. But relying on the money coming from the very thing that’s causing the damage in the first place is ethically crooked. Not an isolated issue. Isn’t it after all the equivalent of selling cigarettes in a hospital that treats lung cancer patients.

What to do? Buy fewer toys and trinkets made from non-renewable resources. No buying of toys from gift shops of conservation centres. Sure they bring joy, yet in all fairness that joy is short-lived anyway and I personally believe that buying frogs for our children to play with will not teach them much about the danger frogs are in. Whether they are made hard or soft plastic, most toys leave a trail of chemicals behind, with serious effects ranging from cancer to developmental problems, and that will affect not only the wildlife but our children as well.  Harbinger of doom I am not, I simply call it as I see it.

It takes more than one flower to bring the spring back, but we can still do it.

In the end it is not necessarily just the frogs; their sad and quiet – I wish I could say slow too but I’d feel slightly irresponsible if I did – disappearing is but a symptom, one of many that the world we live in needs our help. Some may say that the world has more arduous problems than disappearing frogs that need immediate attention. And that’s true. Yet the cynical response to that would be that all the problems no matter how severe will not exist should there not be a planet to live on for the people who create them in the first place. The responsible answer is that we’re all connected. In case of frogs, you see, their bodies that act like sponges and thus environmental heralds. Simply put, their skin absorbs all the chemicals we dump and they get sick and die. A more evident hint I could not think of. It’s all connected. The big circle of life. Yes I got the line from The Lion King.

It’s been a year since I wrote this post. In the meantime there have been a few more species that made it on the critically endangered list, including tigers, leopards, sea turtles, gorillas. In 2006 we lost the last of the West African black rhinoceros. Shame. And lost count of already extinct frog species.

The way I see it, we’re running towards this sudden dropoff zone. Soaring and falling are the two choices. We can soar but only if we figure out how to fly by the time we get there. Slowing down to do so means we get a chance to see the world around. If enough of us slow down, we all will eventually. I’d call it making time. Is that vane or hopeful?

Poppies Are Red

We are headed to the Royal Canadian Legion to get a poppy tray in light of Remembrance Day coming up soon. Boys Scouts like Tony – plus parents for chaperoning – are invited to volunteer for a couple of hours. It’s a good thing, the least we can do, we both agree. The elderly gentleman greeting us, Mr. R., he’s all spruced up and affable. He explains to us the details of the mission and tells us the names of the people we’re supposed to get in touch with at the poppy spot. Tony feels very important as Mr.R. attaches a red ribbon to his chest, a sign that he’s with the Royal Canadian Legion. When you’re nine it does not get better than this on a rainy Friday afternoon. I feel like we’re headed to a rescuing mission and in a way we are I guess. Plus, times with just the two of us are rare and precious and I treasure each and every one of them.
We arrive at Save-on-Foods and look for the manager, our main poppy liaison here. We only find the human-sized cardboard version as the real person left for the day. Well then. The next person in rank has no clue we were coming but he can’t refuse the poppy affair so he brings us a table and two chairs.
“This is not looking good, Mom, I don’t think people will get any poppies.” Tony’s doubt is real. He has never done this before and I haven’t either. But it’s enlightening to be on the other side. A middle-aged guy breaks the ice. He drops a loonie in the collection box and takes a poppy. We smile and say thank you. An elderly woman comes next, she looks kind and happy. It’s a good thing. As we sit and chat, we get a stream of people walking by with their groceries. Some stop, put the bags down and reach for change or bills to donate for poppies. They leave the store with a crimson poppy on their chest and Tony’s smile trailing behind as a reminder of how good this place is with the sacrifice of all people who fought in wars.
“Mom, why are some people looking the other way when they pass by us? Other people don’t stop for poppies but at least they smile.” An astute observation by all means. I explain the best I can. Body language 101. Some people don’t know how to say no, I guess, so they avoid being put in a situation where they have to do so. But it is important to wear poppies, we owe that to the ones who sacrificed the most precious asset and to the ones who risked it and are still around to tell the story.  As Mr. R. said, as important as it is to get money to keep the veteran services running, the most important thing is for people to wear the poppies. We ought to remember, and the little crimson red does the trick.
We get some five dollar bills and lots of coins. Two little girls stop and stare while waiting for their mom to pay for groceries.
“The flowers sure are nice,” the oldest says. Her braids are cute and so is her smile.
“Yes, they are. These are poppies, you know, people wear them this time a year for Remembrance Day.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How old are you?” I ask her.
“Four, my sister is one and a half, she can’t talk much yet.”
Tony smiles the older kid understanding smile. We’re both surprised that the little girl knows about poppies, it’s a good thing.

We talk about wars and books and maybe going to school next week now that his cold is over with. It’s almost dinner time. We walk to the car. Rain and leaves wrap around our ankles like naughty kids playing games around bedtime. It’s almost November. We drive back to the Legion office to drop off the tray and collection money for the next volunteers. We find Mr. R. in the big pool room at the back. It smells a bit like old cigarette smoke and the uniforms pinned under the big glass panels on the walls look dusty. It makes me a bit sad to wonder if the Legion is still a strong presence or slightly fading away… Who knows, I wish they stay, people like Mr. R. sure believe in it and that’s perfectly right. He sees us and comes to us right away. He smiles and hands us each a poppy quarter – Royal Canadian mint! – and a cup of jelly beans for Tony. Lots of them. To share, of course, he winks. He shakes Tony’s hand ceremoniously. Tony’s eyes meet mine. He’s proud and tall. I am too.
We walk to the car eating jelly beans. Sure I am a health freak, but this cannot be missed. I don’t like the black ones though, I tell Tony. Yellows are perfect.
At home I give my shiny poppy quarter to Sasha and Tony shares his jelly beans with him. One day he’ll share his too.

The kitchen smells of apples and cinnamon now, wafts of goodness slither out of the oven tickling noses and warming up hearts. End of October is the best time for apple pies. Outside it pours.
“We’re lucky we got to stay inside with the poppy tray, Mom,”
“Yes, that too…”

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