Could it be? My first build?

I’m embarking on a new project.  At least, I think I am.  It started off with a plan to look at an old bike that could be modified into a trike for a friend of mine in a wheelchair who wants to ride.  Turns out, it’s too small and the front end too short, but then the wheels in my head got to turning.  Maybe I should buy the bike.  Maybe I could have some creative fun with it.  Maybe I could build a custom bike.  Maybe.  Just maybe.

It’s an old 1981 Honda 400.  Nothing special, although some would say, “Oh it’s special Todd.”  Carbs are missing, tank is off, sides are off, seat has been chewed, fuel lines need replacing, brake and clutch lines need replacing, front seals are leaking.  In some ways this 30 year old neglected bike resembles my near 37 year old neglected body.  Maybe the idea of rebuilding this bike is my way of living vicariously.

I needed some inspiration and headed to Google to image search custom built Hondas.  I didn’t expect to find much, but to my surprise, there are many creative people out there besides the Harley entrenched customizers.

Last year I bought a 1985 Pontiac Bonneville with the intention of a restoration project.  Turns out, I don’t know anything, or enough people that I can bounce ideas off of, so I sold it.  I know far more bikers who have spent years monkeying around with bikes who can share their wisdom, and, ultimately, mock my Honda.

The first hurdle is tracking down the actual owner of the bike and get him to sign off the ownership.  It turns out that the owner gave it to the person I know after not having any money to pay for a job that was done for him.  In turn, the bike was a sort of collateral, the principle of the matter.  It’s been sitting in a corn crib for many years and I need to contact the owner.  When I shared with my 10 year old daughter that I was lokking to buy another bike, she asked if she could have it when she turns 16.  Great.  I’m raising a biker chick!  I should have known it though, her favorite animal is a pig.  She’ll end up with a hog someday.

Everyone has a story.  Looking forward to telling this one, trials and tribulations of a first build!

Dude, where's my car?

When I left for work this morning, it took me a few minutes to realize something wasn’t quite right in my car.  I spend a lot of time in there so there tends to be, well, junk throughout it. 

So this morning when I went to leave my house there was Canadian Tire money and parking passes on the passenger seat and few CD’s were in the back seat.  This is typical, except that I haven’t been to the Canadian Tire gas bar in a few days.  I notice that the lid from the center console was open as well, where my kids would put their drinks if were driving somewhere.

At home later in the day, I asked my wife if she had been in my car at all.  I figured that my console was open because she was looking for something.  Nope.  Crap, I think someone was in my car overnight!  

Back I went to check and noticed that a container of pennies was missing, my pens, a Bic mini lighter and a cigar that has been there for some time.  Apparently, according to police, this was a pretty big haul for our juvenile thieves in town!  Now please understand, I thought it was completely unnecessary to contact the police but my wife rightly felt it would help to at least file a report so they have a record of area activity.  Constable Calvert agreed with her.  

It’s annoying getting robbed.  This isn’t the first time we’ve had our vehicles ransacked, and it’s always only because we neglected to lock our doors.  Once though, we had our van stolen from in front of our porch.  That was a strange feeling; to walk out the door with coffee in hand and ready to go to work only to look around and wonder where my van had gone to.

Clearly though, last night’s act was that of youth, likely quite young because the coward punk that was in my car didn’t have the sense to take the CB in the back seat or the GPS that was also in the car.

Well, if you happen to be the crooked little thief that took my pennies, enjoy your candy, that’s about all you can afford with it.

Everyone has a story, and yours will end with end with jail time if you don’t change your ways.

Losing our Community

Since traveling on a couple of missions trips to Russia and Cuba I see the world differently; the greater world and my local world.  Within my own country I see drastic differences between the west and east, between Ontario and Nova Scotia.

What I see is the people.  People in Russia are wonderful, but it takes a bit of time to get past the questioning exterior.  After years of communism, the Russian people need to know they can trust you before they open their heart to you.  When we take the time to build trust, the rewards are beautiful.  

My friends in Cuba were instant.  My son and I were blessed to spend a number of days with the locals.  They are the warmest people who have a genuine joy in their lives that instantly spreads in their presence.  I cherish their friendship, even though contact is sporadic.

Spending time on Canada’s east coast, my wife and I soon discovered the hospitality that awaits.  The pace of life is noticeably slower, as though they appreciate simplicity.  

Living in Alberta in the late 90’s showed how accepting others can be as we were welcomed into a home to live and were cared for by virtually everyone we met.

What has made all of these experiences memorable has been the people.  People who have taken the time to get to know us, people who we have taken time to get to know.  Everyone has a story and will tell it when we just show the respect that everyone deserves.

You see, no one relied on others to make the relationship, it was between us.  There was no outside force dictating how we communicate, we just did and we were blessed for it.  There is such a freedom in it.

I am concerned about the direction of our society though.  When I look at Russia and Cuba, both with a history of communism, the people make a means for themselves.  They don’t seem to rely on the government for their answers, but they do know there are rules to be followed.  They don’t wait for their support cheques, instead they make work.  They don’t scream that the government didn’t pay them enough to cover their rent, they live within their means.

Here though, we repeatedly, without fail, look to the government to solve our problems and tell us what to do.  There is a constant flow of demands for new and tougher laws.  When laws are broken we want the authorities to carry our tougher sentences and then renew the call for revised laws.  We have demands and want them acted on, by the government, not actually ourselves in many cases.  During the Victoria Day weekend in London, Ontario, police received approximately 40 noise complaints.  Noise complaints over fireworks.  There was no mention of neighbourhoods getting together to celebrate, but instead 40 different people who wanted the police to tell their neighbours that having fun was not acceptable to them because it was too loud.  Seriously?

What concerns me is the apparent loss of community as we turn ourselves over to increased government control.  We seem to be okay with this too.

The answers to many of the woes that challenge our world, our country, our provinces, our cities and towns can be addressed if we look inward, into our own community.  When we once knew our neighbours, took family vacations together and went outside, things were different.  It was not just a matter of the times being different, we have changed and with our advances we have lost the fundamental basics that worked for generations.

Remember when our parents knew all of our friends and were able to call their parents if there was a problem?  I am amazed at the parents today who regularly don’t know where they child is, how to contact them or who the parents are!

I firmly believe that if we talk to each other, get to know each other, here each other’s stories and listen to each other without getting our backs up we would have an extremely different community, without the need for government legislation dictating our actions and restrictions.  It all comes down to mutual respect.

No matter the issue, whether bullying or the homeless, we can solve this together.

Everyone has a story.  Do you know your neighbour’s?

Elitist and Inclusive?

Can the two exist in harmony?  Just off the top of my head I’m not sure they can.  Each has their own view of the other, but sometimes the under-dog can rise up and find it’s place alongside the hero.  Co-exist, yes.  Harmony...well, that remains to be seen.

Growing in the 70’s, I look back now and remember that there were two types of dogs: pure-breds and mutts, or more sensitively referred to as mixed breeds.  We had a little black dog named Gidget.  Nothing fancy, really.  Just a cute fur-ball that stole our hearts and found it’s forever home in our family.  Gidget was a mutt.  No pedigree, no kennel club papers, no on paper value.  But value in our family was beyond dollars.  We didn’t expect others to understand and frankly, we didn’t need others to understand.

Today, in 2010, I can’t seem to find a mutt.  No Heinz 57.  No “mixed breed.”  Today, they are called Designer Dogs.  Apparently the trauma of having a less revered dog became too much to handle for some people and they have joined forces to be consider edequal in the elitist world of dog ownership.

Gone are the days of Black Labs, German Shepherds, Standard Poodles and Huskies.  Today sees the rise of Labradoodles, Peka-poos, Bugs, Jack-A-Ranians, Schnoodles and Torkies.  There are hundreds of these designer dogs listed online.

Talking with a friend of mine over this long weekend, she told me about a friend of hers who journeyed with their dog to a “hotdog day” event.  If you haven’t heard, sometimes elitists will have a celebration of their breed and give some fancy or catchy name to subtly inform those less privileged that there is a formal gathering of the pedigree.  (Pugnic for pugs, Hotdog Day for dachshunds, Greyhound Gathering - okay that’s not subtle but you get the point).  This friend of a friend attempted to enter her dog into an event at the hotdog day only to be advised, “You can’t enter.  Your dog, is a designer dog.”  

Yes, a designer dog faced rejection because of it’s heritage.  Shameless in our country isn’t it?  We “accept” everyone!

The dog in question was a Chihuahua Dachshund cross.  Once a mutt, now a designer dog.  A Chiweeni.  Thirty years ago would anyone have thought to name this, ahem, designer dog anything other than a mutt?

Those once excluded from the mainstream Canadian or American Kennel Club have come together to form the DDKC, the Designer Dog Kennel Club!   Now the excluded are the Elitists as well.  Elitists and Inclusivity?

All of this seems petty, I know, but is quite symbolic of Canada.

There has been a marked shift in Canadian culture in the past three or four decades.  Once a mosaic, where differences existed and that’s just the way it was, Canada is now a fragmented series of land claims and cultural claims waiting to be fought for in the courts over something called rights.  “Robert’s religious claims must be accepted as equal to mine” which actually means “If Robert screams loud enough and uses the magic words - oppression or prejudice - his religion is deemed more important that mine and I lose my rights.”  This is not equality.  Robert has grown tired of his second class religion and has banded together with his fellow rejected.  These once “rejected” have taken up force as one to be watched.  

We used to be Christian Canadians.  

Canada has backed itself into a corner as our backbone has disintegrated.  We now tell everyone to embrace their culture, to celebrate their heritage, display your choice, that we have lost sight of our own origins.  We celebrate everyone’s nationality, life choice, lifestyle and belief.  Except our own.

We have the German-Canadian Club, Greek-Canadian Club, the Irish-Canadian Club (along with St. Patrick’s day when everyone thinks their Irish just to drink green beer), Pride Week, Oktoberfest and a week to celebrate everyone’s career choice.  Anyone who has a sincere religious belief is accommodated (except Christians of course).  Feel free to take an extra 12 days off from school or work this year, don’t worry about it.

Like the original Kennel Club, Canada has lost it status as a representative body of that which stood true to its roots.  Canada is now the Designer Dog Kennel Club of the World!  Welcome to Canada, even though you’re a mutt, you’re a part of our elite mutt-club.

Grassroots Movement

What happened to the Grassroots movements of days gone by?

A grassroots movement traditionally occurred at a local level, or a community level, where volunteers would freely give their time and finances to support the identified need.  According to Wikipedia, the term “grassroots” was first used in the United States. It was “thought to have been coined by Senator Albert Jeremiah Beveridge of Indiana, who said of the Progressive Party in 1912, "This party has come from the grass roots. It has grown from the soil of people's hard necessities.”

While not necessarily used to reference politics, the term embraces the very nature of community coming together for it’s own good; building from the ground up.  Even a quick Google search will reveal a realm of movements aiming for political change.

As I continued to look at the various factors surrounding Bryten Brown’s death, there was a rapid communal response for change to the school board.  It began as parents rallying a battle cry for change; a true grassroots movement was beginning.  Then something happened.  As the days passed, the community’s passion waned.  The voices were hushed as a new issues take to the forefront and the vocal opponents to the board have settled down.

So what happened to the grassroots movement?  Maybe there wasn’t really a grassroots movement at all, but rather a purely emotional response to an absolute tragedy.  If it was a movement, it has been eclipsed by the “community leaders” now making up the Director’s Community Task Force.  That should be a further cause for our concern.  The original supporters have given up on their ownership of a vital and noble task of bringing change to a system that desperately lacks humanity.

Much like religion and faith, grassroots movements can lose their excitement and freshness.  We need to remember that just because the “feeling” isn’t there anymore, it doesn’t change the truth of the matter.  The intrinsic need to move forward must be heard and acted on.  Please, don’t give up.

Everyone has a story, even when, just sometimes, we don’t feel like telling it.