Rant 

The fact that the US has a  materialistic society, controlled by corporations through lobbyists and advertising, that is coupled with a myth of meritocracy that is in fact insanely weighted in favour of a small percentage of elite, upper class Americans who are the only ones who can afford to go to the best universities is clearly being revealed tonight as we see how many people feel so powerless in this atmosphere that they either ignore or admire the aspects of Trump's personality that I find narcissistic and immoral and vote for him because he brashly seems to defy those elites who presume they represent and are entitled to all that is good. What these disrespected, red cap wearing, flag waving, socialist fearing masses at Trump rallies don't seem to appreciate is that many among the elites are as bound to Trump as they are and support him financially precisely because as he talks like his rallying masses and appears to respect them he walks with the rich and entitled. Even though his position in their ranks is tenuous, they will back him as long as his narcissism props up their status and self interest. 🤪

That was my pre election rant. Like Rick Mercer, I will surround it with graffiti. This is the picture I took yesterday of the graffiti at the Black Rock. I walked there as part of my between season push to prepare for the pilgrimage I probably won't be able to go on next May. Caroline Pollock has invited me to join her, Mara and two other friends on a walk from the Cathedral in Ottawa to the Oratoire St. Joseph in Montreal. It would be wonderful to do, and not too difficult, or so I thought before starting to prepare. The route should be relatively flat, BUT you have to walk about 25km every day for 12 days. As there will be another group right behind us, there is no hope of a day off because the refugios are small and can only hold one group at a time. Still, the down payment was only about $70.00, so I happily paid. Now I'm trying to walk the walk. It might not be so easy. You have to carry a pack weighing approximately 20 pounds. I spent last week walking from one end of Vernon to the other, with digressions side to side and stops to fill my pack with shopping. I came nowhere near 25km with 20 pounds. One day after a long walk, I flopped my heavy pack ( a gallon jug of milk, a dozen eggs and some small stuff) on the kitchen counter and immediately took out my iPhone to see how close to 25km I'd come. 😅I was just short of 10. Still not too discouraged, I took out the scales to weigh the pack. I couldn't believe it but finally had to, 12.5 pounds. I'm going to need faith in a force greater than I am to help me through this pilgrimage. Finding that will be just as hard as walking and carrying. Covid might come to my rescue and make the whole thing impossible, but I really don't want to be rescued that way. 

As I write this last post rant part of the blog I am encouraged  because post Election Day vote counts have gone my way on two fronts. Biden will be the next President of the USA, and in my Vernon/ Monashee riding the NDP candidate has pulled ahead to beat the Liberal for the first time in years. 

One week ago today I received an email from Terry Keough informing me that Barbara had died earlier that morning. Barbara was brilliant. She was humane, intelligent and joyous. When I was with her, I felt special, not because I am, but because she was. I enjoyed her company and valued her opinion. She and Terry were good friends to Jim and me.  After Jim died, our friendship continued. I stayed in their basement flat every time I visited my parents, which was for a week or two, four times a year. After dad and mom died, I still spent at least a week every May with them. We had coffee and long talks together in their living room every morning and one or two pub lunches. Barbara almost always ordered a veggie burger with fries and took home about half the fries to heat and enjoy another time. She seemed to like fries better reheated. She was a wonderful listener, and when she said something, I listened. It was either a well stated, considered opinion,which I valued, or a laugh, which I often needed. I will miss her very much. 

Barbara and Terry at one of our pub lunches

It's the first day of what might be the last year that we Fall back in BC. I'm spending the extra hour in my grey sunroom. The temperature is 2c at the moment, but the sun is supposed to start shining around 11am.  Three of us plan to go on the final bike ride of 2020 at 12:30. The temperature should hit its high of 8c around 2:00pm, so we'll be wearing head bands and ski mitts. 

The leaves are still stubbornly refusing to turn and fall. 

But the temperature is certainly seasonal, dropping to between -1 and -9c every night starting tomorrow and only rising to between 1 and 6 during the day. We are supposed to get snow on Friday; it is already in the hills. Sovereign will open for xcountry skiing on Nov. 6; although they haven't issued their passes yet, even to those of us who have already bought them, because they are still working on a new Covid system that will allow them to know, by issuing plastic tap membership cards, how many people are on the trails. They will not be allowing people to enter the lodge, except to use the washrooms, so boots will be either worn up or put on in the car. 

Fortunately, neither Covid nor cool weather was able to halt the relentless will of Lynne Young. She has become a good friend of mine. She was determined to bike 80k on her 80th birthday, October 18, 2020. And we did it. 

I awoke at 7:00am on that morning, opened the blinds to see dark grey and light rain. The temperature was 4, according to my iPhone. I am not the person to initiate a bike ride on such a day, but I couldn't cuddle back into bed because I knew Lynne was. And another one of her friends, Colette is too. I rose, and keeping the faint hope of cancelation in my mind, mechanically went about preparing breakfast and all my bike clothes and gear. I was prepared to accept the inevitable when it arrived in the form of a phone call from Lynne. She said that even she had been of two minds when Colette called to knock the negativity out of her. So it was on. We would meet in Polson Park at 9:40am. I was ready to pull out of my parking lot at 9:15, got on the bike, stepped on the pedal and clunk. The chain had come off. I had never put the chain back on this bike. My first thought was to call for help, but who? There was no one except BCAA, and I'd have to wait for them. So I just started to do what I'd seen others do. And it worked. My hands were greasy, but the bike was fine. I made it to the park in time to take a picture of some of the others as they approached out of the gloom. We were all so bundled against cool weather and light rain that we looked like multicoloured Michelin men. But more than our tires were pumped. 

The weather didn't clear all day, but neither did it get any worse. We rode just over 40k to the Blue Ox Pub in Lumby, picking up more riders half way there. Other people drove to the pub, so there were about 25 people for the party. Lynne had done a lot of preparation, her husband John looked after the details on the day and the whole affair was a success. The ride home was more subdued. The temperature had dropped back to about 5 as we rode into Polson Park just after 4:00pm. Lynne invited us all back to her place for mulled wine after we had put our bikes away and changed. It was a great 80th birthday for Lynne and all of us. 

I spent almost two hours on Monday cleaning the dirt out of every crack and crevice of my panniers and bike and oiling the chain. 

The ditty I wrote on a card for Lynne and recited at the pub, in spite of the fact that I was shaking more than the leaves that still haven't fallen. 

Lynne Young

She's just turned eighty,

Our Lynne,

And in spite of the fact that

She's thin,

Her will is so strong

That her life will go on

Full of adventures 

And friends who are drawn 

To her hustle

And moved by her bustle

To do things that rarely go wrong. 

She does what she does

With commitment. 

A gambler would say,

She's 'ALL IN'. 

She stops for nothing, our Lynne. 

Not even her nose. 

Which she frequently blows,

While moving,

Without breaking stride,

Using one of the hankies she's fashioned 

And attached to her pack at the side. . 

And just because she's athletic 

Doesn't mean she is not à la mode,

Heavens no!

She designed a fetching, warm ski skirt

From a vest someone else had let go. 

At eighty today,

In her indomitable way,

She's gathered her friends 

For a party. 

Happy Birthday dear Lynne!

This time we're ALL IN 

Our wishes are heartfelt and hearty. 

Thanksgiving 2020 CE

2020 meant perfect vision to me, 

until 2020 CE. 

It's no longer something I wish I had

I've had it!!

I'm in my gloomy sunroom at 4:30pm on a dull, cool, rainy day in the Okanagan. But oddly enough, I feel fine. I think I'm buoyed by having spent the day washing summer and winter clothes, storing the former away and filling the cupboards and drawers with the latter. I have always bought most of my clothes in second hand or consignment shops, much to Jim's and my father's chagrin. Dad's comment one year as I got off the train from Kingston in Thunder Bay for Christmas proudly wearing a preowned fur coat, was, "Oh Jan, that wasn't even good when it was new." I hated to disappoint my dad, but his comment made me laugh. He had had a wry expression on his face as he made it, and I was old enough by that point to know that although I wasn't the perfect daughter of his dreams I was the real one who laughed at his jokes and made him laugh in my turn. Seeing my own well worn clothes again as the seasons change gives me a lift. They're still around, like old friends. It's new clothes that make me feel ill at ease. If I buy something new, I rarely wear it right away. I like it to hang around with the old stuff for a while to test its character. 

The forecast for the Thanksgiving weekend, according to my iPhone, is for more of the same, cool and rainy. I've done a lot of biking and rambling lately, so staying inside will be fine. On Wednesday, I was invited to a friend's place for dinner for five on the deck. She's a very good cook, so Thanksgiving Dinner is done. I'll join Mo,John and their daughter Kim for something on the weekend, so I will be following Bonnie Henry's advice to give big thanks in small groups. Lately I have started to find her voice a bit soporific and her messages rather saccharine, but BC has handled Covid fairly well under her guidance. She states the facts, doesn't panic and rather than issuing edicts, asks people to be kind to each other. What else can you ask?

To escape the miasma from the south,and I'm not referring to the smoke from the fires still burning in California, I am reading another book by Rutger Bregman,

Humankind, it's so much more stimulating, humane and well informed than the narcissistic nonsense coming from the Whitehouse.  

I'm thankful this weekend for the fact that Jay and May have found a new place. They have been searching for a while. They are back in Songdo where I had such good visits with them. They are on the first floor of a high rise, so Jay says it feels like a house  more than an apartment. Their windows look out on a park and a badminton court. They are very happy with it, and I am happy for them. 

So Thanksgiving 2020 is not without glimmers of hope. 

Jay and May's new home

Some friends and I rode our bikes to Predator Ridge this week. This is one of the many Thanksgiving decorations there. 

The smoke has lifted,

an election has been called in BC and it is now officially Fall. 

To celebrate the return of fresh air, four of us biked 80k on Monday, a bit of a stretch even with ebikes. It was a test run for Lynne Young's 80th birthday on October 18. She has invited quite a few friends to join her to celebrate the event and wanted to make sure that the route she had decided on was in fact 80k.  It was cool and clear and great to be moving again after more than a week of no real activity. On Tuesday, Mo led the Ramble up Bluenose. It's a short one but parts are quite steep. I had some trouble breathing but made it. Wednesday was a day of rest. 

I'm waiting for rain. I've planted so many things in the yard this season of Covid and smoke that I think I'd better implement a one plant policy next summer. I hope we get a long rainy fall to give the new things a good start, otherwise there will be a lot of watering in my near future. 

Ruth Bader Ginsberg was born, like Jay, on the Ides of March, March 15, 1933 and died last Friday, September 18, 2020. She was an intelligent, energetic and humane woman. She fought so many battles in her lifetime that it seems supremely unjust that the men with knives are still attacking her, even after her death. If Mitch McConnell and Donald Trump have an ounce of humanity between them, which I doubt they do, they will honour her last words to her granddaughter and leave the choice of her replacement on the Supreme Court of the United States to the winner of the November presidential election.

This is neither the best of times nor the worst of times, but it's another troubled time for humanity in more ways than one. It will take special people like RBG and ordinary people too voting and doing whatever they can to help each other and balance the scales of justice so everyone can live a descent life on a planet that remains livable. 

And for a humorous interlude: Lucy looks at 2020

Trying to find a balance

Schools have opened again in S. Korea!  I was happy to get a Seoul subway report last night as Jay headed back after two weeks off. That's good to hear; although, as is always the case in these uncertain Covid days, there might be another shut down if the government decides to take precautions in a couple of weeks during the Chuseok and Hangulnal holiday periods. Here in BC the main preoccupations are school openings, possible provincial elections and smoke from horrendous fires in Oregon, Washington State and California. Schools are open, but not without some snags, the New Democrats are high in the poles so may want to run for a majority and B.C. still isn't burning but is shrouded in smoke from the USA. 

The Monday bike, which was supposed to be an 80km rehearsal for Lynne's 80th birthday ride on October 18 was cancelled because of dense smoke in the air, so I am sitting in my sunless sunroom surrounded by haze. It is a fitting setting for these Covid days of uncertainty. A vague smell of smoke is entering the house and it's cool in here for the first time in months. Will I have to turn on the heat? Have I made it through another Okanagan summer without turning on the air conditioning? Is that really anything to celebrate? Perhaps, if you're desperate for an upside. 

The better news is that I had a wonderful kayak breakfast on Gardom Lake with Mo on Sunday and yesterday I picked all the Italian plums on my tree. They are delicious. I froze some in heavy freezer bags and boiled others into compote for winter. And I am reading a wonderful book, Utopia for Realists , by Rutger Bregman. He's a young Dutch writer I first heard of on PBS', 'Amanpour and Company', a programme I really like. He is well known for this book and for his TED Talk, ' Poverty isn't a Lack of Character, it's a Lack of Cash'. All is not lost. 

I thought this was a really small island on Gardom Lake but it turned out to be a very old raft with a diving board on it that probably hadn't been used in many years. 

This is a picture of Jay taken last week. He has been working out for years, sometimes at gyms but mostly at home doing weights, calisthenics and yoga with a minimum of equipment. It is paying off. 

Are we almost there yet?

In August, 1914, German Emperor Wilhelm 11 promised the departing soldiers that they would be home before the leaves fell. Many around the world, especially in the military, did not share his optimism, but lots of young men left enthusiastically for the front. 

It's now September, 2020; the leaves will soon change from green to their fall coat of many colours, so Covid 19 better get a move on if it's going to be gone before they fall. Of course, nobody said it would be; although, a couple of wanna be dictators swore it didn't even exist. 

That's enough of that comparison. Sitting in the house resting after a rewarding morning of working in the yard is far removed from huddling in a muddy trench as bullets whip overhead and mustard gas snakes toward you. But I am sick of Covid 19; just as the Monty Python gang was sick of the Swiss. I don't have it. I don't know anyone who does. All we have are statistics,  videos of crowded ICU wards, admonishments from scientific and medical experts and some very touching eulogies following the news. After six months of that, it takes some effort to make the imaginative leap into action required to enthusiastically follow preventative measures that just seem more tiresome than necessary. But then beneath the surface lurks the unknown, the fear of which is the worst and pushes us to worry, not so much me and my friends; although, we're the ones who seem to die from this virus, but younger people whose work and family life are threatened. Jay's school is closed again this week, and he worries that it might be extended as S. Korea, like many countries, is recording an increase in new cases of Covid. Parents in Canada are nervously having to decide whether or not to send their children to start classes in school again this week or next. The people and the economies of every country in the world are seriously threatened by this virus. After decades of thinking we were in control: eating right, exercising, getting educated, working, etc., etc., we lucky few in the first world are now being smacked by the fact that the unknown is unmanageable and unavoidable. 

As usual, I count on Jay to remind me of the lighter side, which is odd as he is the one who really suffers from anxiety and depression, but then maybe not. He has spent a lifetime battling those demons, and I just fall into their shallows once in a while. At any rate, he sent me a picture of May at the beauty parlour about a week ago. I couldn't believe it. She was under an octopus of a curling contraption the likes of which I hadn't seen since I went with mom to her hairdresser when I was very young. And even then it was not being used. The owner of the shop had bought it as an intriguing artifact to add interest to the place. 

May after the procedure. Beautiful. From the 1920s to the 2020s