this was the summer that was

Oh, computer troubles. How you plague me! Seriously, I don't think anyone besides me is actually interested in the boring play-by-play of my computer troubles, and even I'M not all that interested. The short version: Old Desktop was working again, but has bit the dust, although who knows for how long, and New Laptop was sent back for repairs, even though it worked properly for everything BUT connecting to dial-up Internet. Unfortunately, that's all we have out here, at least for now, so that one frustrating flaw means no laptop until it comes back. And even though I have great faith in my Computer Guy, when he says "It'll be a week!" that tends to mean, "It'll be a month!"

So without either Old Desktop or New Laptop in service, my options become:

• Use the High-Speed computers at either the IT Center or the Library, and in order to do so, either bike 6 km both ways, or finagle a ride into town; OR
• Use Mum's (admittedly, given to us for free) Really Old, Slow Desktop, and do the bare minimum of Internet work.

Even if I had a working computer here at home that went as fast as I wanted it to, or at least, as fast as dial-up would permit, I have to admit that I'm getting tired of the Internet. Now, I know, there are many great things about the Internet, so please don't leave irate comments in my comments box. But it's also a vast time-suck, especially when most of the time, what I'm doing is puttering around on Facebook.

So there are the computer troubles. And there is the fact that a lot of the time, I don't want to sit at the computer for longer than 10 or 15 minutes, a length of time which isn't very conducive to writing blog posts. But no matter — here I am, at present.

The summer, at least that part of it defined by an academic school year, is nearly over. Next week is Mat's last at work, and then we're heading to the Annapolis Valley to take him back to school. August, as usual, feels like something to be survived rather than enjoyed, with so many things going on that one must practice the art of assertiveness in order to get any time to oneself. But assertiveness does take practice, so perhaps August serves a purpose.

The Olympics are nearly over, and my intake of them has been mostly on CBC Radio, which is how I hear about most world news, including, this summer, clips about Barack Obama and John McCain, Georgia and South Ossetia, Canadian soldiers dying in Afghanistan, and hurricanes in Florida. The Olympics aren't entirely my thing, but I did watch some of the coverage when I house-sat a friend's home for a weekend, and it was interesting, if not entertaining. What has been the most interesting to me about all of it, is when I hear the athletes talk about what goes through their minds before, during and after an event. I'm nowhere near Olympic-athlete level (as if that even has to be said!), but I do really enjoy physical activity, and get a lot out of it. And I'm also pretty conscious of my own thoughts and emotions (again, as if THAT even needs saying), so when I hear the Olympians talking about what it's like for them to go through this, it's a way for me to relate.

(Although, I will always prefer Coronation Street to the Olympics. Always.)

This has been the summer to take more bike rides, to get my bike (named "Rocinante" after Don Quixote's horse) properly tuned up by a man who does that sort of thing, and to buy a bike basket for the front of it, into which I put a baguette or two. Actually, I haven't yet transported a baguette in my bike basket, but I have used it to carry my water bottle and towel, on beach excursions.

It's been the summer to think more seriously about committing to Cape Breton, and to think about how I might make a living here, long-term. It's been the summer to daydream about getting my own piece of land, either with an old house already on it, or my building a new house. The daydream usually goes on to include me welcoming a good friend or three into my house, and showing them my peaceful and beloved patch of land. I figure that if you sort out what you want, even if it's nowhere near happening yet, then you're more alert when pieces of the dream start to come your way. And that way, you can start to make it a reality.

And it's been the summer of topsy-turvy weather, with hot, hot heat in July, turning into cold, wet drizzle for nearly three weeks in August, and now giving us a stretch of three or four days of sunshine and a high UV index. So what that means is that now, after spending abut an hour online, I'm heading to the water. I'm practicing both the art of assertiveness and my Olympian Dog Paddle.

"ma vie en vert"

I’ve been thinking about what to write for this Blog Action Day on the Environment for a little while now. It’s a mighty big subject, the environment. Saying you’re for the environment is basically saying, “I’m supportive of the health of the entire planet,” which is a sensible position to take when you consider that your own health, and that of your family, and friends, and actually, the entire global population of humans, completely and utterly depends on the health of the planet. And it’s a pretty big world, comprised of ecosystems large and small, plant and animal and fungal life, as well as all those micro-organisms, bacteria, viral life forms and things hard to classify like crazy ol’ lichen. Not to mention all the people – six billion of us and rising, quite quickly. And all of us billions of people living all over the world have an impact on the places we live in, on, with and over. Moreover, all these parts of the world (rivers, lakes, oceans, mountains, plains, forests, cities, roadways, etc) connect and touch at least one other part of the world. The word “interconnected” came into common use in 1865, according to my dictionary, but the planet Earth invented it long before.

So environmentalism is a comprehensive subject, to say the least. And lately, meaning the last 10 or so years, the environmental crisis we’re in globally has finally been making the news, which is heartening to plenty of environmentalists of various stripes who’ve been saying the same thing for a lot longer than 10 years: there are a lot of problems with the place we live, these problems are of our own making, and if we don’t fix them we are going to find ourselves forcibly evicted by the domicile itself, or at least living in a very different, much less comfortable, way.

Maybe “heartening” is not the right word. That’s not exactly great news. But what is heartening is how it’s more common now to overhear an “environmental” conversation, and how, even in the face of a sometimes-hopeless diagnosis, a lot of people are finding a way to hope, and learning how to make some changes. But despite all the recent press and celebrity sponsorship, environmentalism is still sort of shunted aside, made into a cause or an “ism” apart, when in reality it’s the health of the entire planet, which means you and me and every other person, place or thing dependent on having a healthy place to live, breathe, eat and play. I personally don’t know anyone that doesn’t fall under that description, no matter what party they vote for.

For me, environmentalism is everywhere. I don’t say this because I’m some kind of eco-heroine who lives her entire life in a completely sustainable way. I say this because whether I like it or not, I think about the environment a lot (unless, of course, I’m thinking about Coronation Street). Ever since I was a little kid and I found out my birthday coincided with Earth Day, and learned the reasons for such a day of remembrance, the Earth has been on my mind.

This isn’t a comprehensive list, but I think it’s a good sample to show what I mean. The Earth is on my mind…

…when I’m taking a walk through my neighborhood, breathing the fall air and noticing the plant life in the ditches. I walk by the property of a local businessman who is going to put up condos and a new marina, I wonder to myself what that’s going to do the birds that nest by the water’s edge. I have no idea what the new development is going to do, but I wonder at a community that could care so little about these sorts of damages that no-one, not even our elected officials, is looking into it. I wonder at my own apathy, too – how afraid I am to start something.

…when I take an airplane somewhere, and before we take off I look out over the airfield and see all the other planes taking off, landing or just hanging out, and I realize that this is going on every hour of every day, not just here but every major city. Or when I sit on the deck outside at night, looking at the stars, and see several airplanes in the space of 5 minutes pass over our Eastern island. It’s on my mind when I ride in a car, which is a speedy and mostly convenient way to get around, but uses fossil fuels to do it. It’s on my mind when I ride my bike, or walk, or take a city bus.

…I’m using electricity – plugging in a lamp, listening to the radio, writing on the computer, refrigerating goods, running the vacuum cleaner, using the clothes dryer on a wet day. Electricity in my province comes mainly from coal-burning power plants, which is highly polluting and completely un-sustainable, yet there is no sign of this from the silent power outlet.

…I’m in a grocery store of a large chain and reading labels that claim the product is eco-friendly and organic, while coming from thousands of kilometers away. I read these labels and think about the power these words have over us, and how they help a lot of people feel better about their choices, buying these products. I weigh the importance of individual consumer awareness against the complexity of the truth and come up short, unsure.

…When I’m thinking about food in general – where to shop, what to buy, who to support, how local the food is. When I sit down for a meal, sometimes I think about where it came from, the people known and unknown who did the work to help this food make it to my plate, and become my nourishment. Food is a beautiful, delicious and immediate way to be an environmentalist – my lunch today looked picture perfect, tasted amazing, and about 90% of its ingredients came from Cape Breton Island.

…When I think about my future – what can I expect from the next 20 years? And of course it’s always impossible to know the future, but these days I frequently consider that fact. Will global warming have wreaked havoc on food systems, and societal infrastructure? Should I focus on what kind of job I can get, or on how best to survive in the chaos of societal collapse? So far I do a bit of both. Also, I consider the environment, and my passion for its continued health, when I consider what to do with my time, my energy, my life, down the road. I want to contribute with my life somehow, knowing little about how my contribution will affect change to come, but feeling nonetheless that things must change, starting with our personal lives, starting now.

I’m telling you this not because I’m expecting eco-points for how virtuous I am, thinking about the environment all day long. In fact, most of the time when I’m reflecting on things “eco”, I’m feeling pretty hopeless, or guilty for not doing more! But I’m showing you the range of my thoughts on the matter because to me, environmentalism is not just an “ism” separate from daily reality. For me, this so-called “one issue” impacts on everything we do, so we ought to be talking about that fact – how our lives are so connected to the environment we live in, and how the crises within that environment therefore connect us all to each other – even if we have little idea how to address the increasingly intertwined issues. Talking is the first step.

Some other steps:

1. Check out the Blog Action Day website or blog. Look around the links to check out other blogs' contributions.
2. Educate yourself further!
   
3. Make some noise to your elected officials.
   
4. Go outside frequently. Maintain your connection to the earth.
   

When and where did you think about the environment today? There are no wrong answers. Don’t be ashamed if you didn’t, or if you’re unsure what to do about the guilt you might be feeling. Leave a “sustainable” comment in my “biodegradable” comment box, and we’ll talk the talk, and hopefully walk that talk, too.

Also, just out of my own curiosity, if you read this post, would you mind leaving a comment, even if all you say is "Hi"? I'd like to know how many people this reached. Thanks!

(Photo courtesy of Space Today Online. And yes, it is a bit of a cliche, but a useful one.)

ode to the isle

As long time readers of this blog will know, my travels to places new to me, which include New Brunswick, Newfoundland, New Zealand, Taipei, Australia, and San Francisco, have inspired writings on "huminbean" intended to share observations and at least a small part of my travels with you, the illustrious readers. But my tendency to observe and my delight in details need not end simply because I'm home. Actually, trying to continue expressing these details and observations can enrich and challenge my writing. The difficulty lies in making myself become more aware of my surroundings, so that I can write about them in a way that is as entertaining and interesting for you to read about as it is for me to experience it, especially when the surroundings don't change as obviously as during a trip.

Luckily I'm in a place that lends itself well to experience and description, for good and bad. Cape Breton Island, on the East coast of Canada, is a place that combines hardscrabble and high class, two words that together bring to my mind someone wearing Versace driving a mud-covered pickup truck that rattles dangerously over every pothole. What I actually mean by using those two opposing terms is that there is both a long history of poverty (European immigrants of many nationalities seeking a better life, industry taking advantage of people and resources, long cold winters and mainly minimum-wage, seasonal work now that a lot of resources have been mismanaged) and of richesse (upper, middle and sometimes even lower class citizens of America and Europe coming here for summer homes, sailing cruises and driving tours since before Alexander Graham Bell, one of the island's more famous summer residents). The tourist tradition continues today, when every summer finds yachts with mysterious guests docked in Baddeck, cars with licence plates from all over the continent lining the streets of our towns, and tourists in lodgings as disparate as expensive resorts and RV parks. To some, Cape Breton is synonymous with sailing, sun and getting away from it all, while to others it means welfare cheques, road salt deteriorating cars, and the ghosts of homesteads and home towns. Quite a contrast!

I like that my feelings are mixed whenever I come home; it means I never get bored! On the one hand, there's the sense of isolation that grows every year as more and more people, especially those in my age demographic, 18-30, move out West to find better paying jobs and make new lives for themselves, away from what can seem like the dead weight of "the way things have always been done": government corruption, nepotism, a disregard for long term planning. There's also the "fishbowl" effect -- almost as bad as Coronation Street, everyone knows everyone else, and their business, and not just in each small town, but over the whole island! Sometimes "close-knit" feels more like a stranglehold.

On the other hand, there's the natural beauty that keeps drawing people here even as gas prices rise and our roads get bumpier each year, heaved by the frost. Mountains that drop from a flat plateau into the ocean, where the rocks are slapped by choppy waves, forests of spruce, pine, maple and larch that are criss-crossed by old dirt roads that reveal bits of the past as you explore them, an inland sea, and clear rivers that you can both swim in and drink from. If it sounds like a postcard, that's because it is. Then there are the people who know me and my parents and care for us as if we were from here, and our lineages were tangled up with their own, even though we're not related(Mum and Dad came here in the early 1970's from Quebec and the US, respectively, after meeting in BC). There's the fierceness of an art scene that produces art shows, galleries, punk rock concerts, artisan's shops and great radio programming and writing despite cuts to funding and population.

So when I start to feel that I've hung out too long in one perspective I can switch to the other. That's the great thing about mixed feelings--they are essentially parts of the same whole, the same truth, the same deep and complicated love for Cape Breton.

Sometimes I can feel like it's all been said, that once I'm home on the island, that's it, end of story, all you (the reader, again) need to know. But I forget that the words "Cape Breton" may not mean anything to you, and if they do, the meaning may not be the same as I have. So I need to challenge myself to try and express the scene of wherever I am the same way --with the same detail and observation-- whether I'm in Bondi Beach or Baddeck Bay. That way things can never get old, because the scene is always changing, though perhaps on a different scale. When I'm travelling, "new" is at every turn in the road and every experience, and it makes it easier to pick up on what is noteworthy. Here at home, "new" is smaller: the fuzzy red buds on the maples, the scent of the air as spring turns to summer, the way the light fades, the new dishes I'm cooking.

Well, that's enough on this subject, at least for now. Since I do have that tendency to observe and delight in details, I'm sure you'll be hearing about some aspect of Cape Breton again soon. Since you've listened to me go on, I suppose it would only be fair to ask you, my dear readers, is there any particular part of this place you're interested in and would like to hear about?

The next post is already in "rough-draft" stage, so I'll just (pun intended) whet your appetite: Catriona Macinnes, a friend of mine and chef-in-training, came to my house and cooked up something we had in the freezer, wearing her chef's whites and her tremendous smile. The end result was absolutely delicious. I'll tell you all about it next time. Meantime, tell me your thoughts on the Cape and this post, as usual!

the drama! the drama!

So while I'm resting up and making sure I get better, I've also been taking daily trips to a favorite pub of mine, the Rovers Return. I'll admit, I wasn't always a fan of Coronation Street, but now that I have the time to commit to this relationship, I'm finding it quite rewarding. I'm not at the point yet where I know everyone's name, or who's done what to whom, but I've been watching for a few weeks now, and I find it's the most realistic soap opera I've ever watched. However, since I know "reality" (that pesky bugger) isn't really why people watch soaps, I should mention as well that like Days or Passions, Corrie has a high quantity of the following:

1. Catfights.
2. Convoluted relationships.
3. Interwoven story lines.
4. Cute people in nice clothes.

However, where it differs from the daytime "stories" is in the following:

1. The sets look at least a little realistic, since they're on a great big set in England.
2. There are some people who are "normal"--as in, old, or fat, or ugly, or just plain different from the tall, white, thin norm on other soaps.
3. The stories aren't just to do with sex, backstabbing, and betrayal. Yes, there's a lot of that, too, but there is also the kid who is pretending he was bullied at school so that he can stay home and do nothing, the baker whose business is going under and whose daughter tries to save it, and the grandfather who has to move, again, to name only a few of the ones I've seen since I started watching.
   

Marlo and I have been watching it together and it's great fun to exclaim to each other about the actions of Charlie Stubb (am I spelling that right, Tracy?) and the snotty kid David. And then there's the haunting strains of its theme music. I always associated this show with older women from Cape Breton, who know way too much about the storylines and gossip the same way about their hometown as they do about the show--which is to say, copiously. And I always thought, "I will never end up like them, enraptured by the goings-on of a fake British community, how plebeian!" But I guess the lesson here is, never say never. And, never break into your ex-boyfriend's flat to make sure his new girlfriend's 2-year-old daughter isn't in danger, because it will come back to bite you in the end. Because your ex-boyfriend is a psycho, didn't you learn that the first time?

As Kathy Kerr used to say (and probably still does, I'm just not there to hear it), when we'd catch an episode of Corrie together, in a voice that sounded like it had heard it all, "The drama, the drama!"

Also, I have a sneaking suspicion the CBC shows Corrie some episodes behind the BBC. Does anyone know if that's true or not?

So, until the day when I make it over to England and take a tour on the set lot, I'll have to settle for watching Corrie, 7 PM on the good old Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, and talking about it with "you lot". You get extra points for using British-isms. And you know I'm serious when I say points--I follow through with prizes!