Look up! There it goes!

During the discussion last night I realized a few things. First is that I don't much care for the group "Radiohead". Second is that while I watched the video for the song I wasn't enjoying, I didn't really see it, even on the second take. Third is that I'm just really not that bright, either that or I'm too apathetic. Shall I explain?

The discussion was centred around the video, it's contents and tying that to faith and the area where the church is located. You know what? I didn't get it. When the video was showing the grafitti on the walls and the "tags" of the different scrawlers, do you know what was running through my head? Words to the effect of "Lawless S.O.B's who have no respect for rules or authority."

Nothing about their creative expression, artistic ability, or anything even remotely connected. Punks with paint. To me, that was the bottom line.

And then the discussion turned to matters of faith. I can't say that I got too much from it because the level of the discussion was quite above my head. Let me use this analogy. In the journey of faith, I am no longer crawling. I think I have started to take steps on my own two feet. Baby steps maybe, but definately walking; and the level of discussion last night was cruisin' down the highway in a lexus. But I'm OK with that. As Nick said "I don't even understand women, let alone God!" I have time.

I have also been learning about myself as I pertain to art and culture within the community and around it. I am learning that as a general rule I could give a rat's behind about most of it. For example, I look at a Bateman painting and I love it, I look at a Picasso or a Van Gogh (and I have) and I think "People PAID for that?!?" I don't get it; it doesn't interest me enough to learn, and I'm OK with that. That's one of the beautiful things about the arts, they mean different things to different people and sometimes mean nothing at all.

I don't know if Jaci and I will be there next week because of vacation, but I will go back. Even if only for the company before and after.

Cheers!

News and views.

I have a couple of things to talk about and I'm going to combine them into one (reasonably lengthed?) blog. First...

TIM HORTONS

Anyone reading the news and is a coffee fan knows about the two girls and the coffee cup. My opinion is this: The first girl found it, it's hers. Even if she did ask for help rolling the rim. This solution is too simple. All parties - pronounced 'parents' (I couldn't bring myself to use the word adult) will spend thousands of dollars on legal fees for a judge to likely say what I just did.

With that being said, if I were the owners of Tim Horton Donuts (and with the IPO, one day that just may be the case) I would say something like, "Can't decide? Here's what we'll do. We take the 30,000$ RAV4, slice it down the middle, and you can call heads or tails to decide whether you get the driver or passenger side."

Worked for Solomon didn't it?

STEVEN HARPER

Whether you like him or not (and I don't), I am more than a little impressed that his first out of country visit was to Kandahar to visit the troops. Many Canadians are concerned that our role which is traditionally a "peacekeeping" role has developed there to become more of a combative "peace-making" role. I understand this concern, and so I'm sure do our soldiers.

Never forget that a soldier does not ever make policy. They follow the directives that come from their political masters. So while the public may not like or be comfortable with what the soldiers are doing, never stop supporting them or ever make them feel alone. If you have an issue, call your MP; if you meet a soldier, thank them sincerely for their service and pray that those still over there come home safe and sound.

Steven Harper I'm sure was not lost to the potential photo-ops from this visit. Be that as it may, he made the visit, and reminded the troops that while they were far from home, they were still in the minds of the highest level of their government. They are not forgotten.

CARL

Friday a man died. While I was not there at his death I was there while five medics and three firefighters worked frantically to try and get his heart started and to get him breathing again. Sadly we were not successful. I didn't see Carl's obituary in the paper. Why? Likely because he was of "No Fixed Address", or homeless.

Carl and I met more than a dozen times. He would get drunk and lie down somewhere to sleep (parking lot, stairwell, places like that) and a concerned citizen would call 911 and report a "man down". In my experience Carl was not really a nice man, personality or circumstance I don't know but he wasn't the worst I've encountered. He didn't try to hit me or spit on me. He just wanted to be left alone to his own devices. I can say that at least he was in a warm place when he died.

Even though he was homeless, their should be some service. Some clergy somewhere to say a prayer for his soul. As I didn't find an obituary, I assume he went to the morgue for cremation by the city. I don't know if it's my place, but I did say a prayer for Carl. Was it too little, too late? I don't know.

I feel a little better though.

If the dog is quiet, be afraid.

So this weekend I did a base change to help out a fellow medic and instead of my 0630-1830 shift I'm working 1030-2230. No big deal. This morning I was sleeping at around 8am and I thought I heard my cell phone turn on. I assumed this was me dreaming because I was sleeping and Jaci was at work. And on the off chance that a burglar broke in, I'm sure of two things. One, he wouldn't care about the phone and two, I have a hulking German Shepherd to serve and protect. As the dog was finally quiet (she whines at the cats), I paid the imaginary noise no mind. As soon as I thought about the dog being quiet I should have leapt from the bed faster than a greased pig headed for the chow. But I didn't. Because I'm naive, and not yet fully understanding of the dog mentality.

So when I do rise at 9 o'clock I go to the kitchen and see my cell phone case on the floor. With a fresh set of Chewie's dental work in it. This does not overly upset me because the case is still usable and the pot marks add character and an amusing anecdote. Then I see the phone. Lying still and lifeless on the living room floor, powered on and marked all over with teethmarks and drool stains is now merely the inanimate object that was once my cell phone.

It's gone. It still has the ability to receive calls (the vibrate functions no more), and send calls IF I remember the phone number and IF I punch it in right. The screen which was once graced by Angelina Jolie (she's on my list, ask Jaci) is nothing but odd streaks of distortion. And everybody from Jaci, to my partner, nurses, doctors and anyone within earshot thinks this is funny. Maybe it will be one day. One day far from this day.

As I was looking at it in shock and horror I turn to the dog who is looking at me as if to say.....nothing; because she then closed her eyes as if to sleep. Ah to sleep, perchance to dream of her next victim. I saw her eyeing my XBox tonight and I think I detected some drool so tomorrow she and I will watch "Old Yeller" so that I can make my point clear if she goes near it.

Monday I go shopping for a new phone.

The Grizzly Man

Jaci and I just watched "The Grizzly Man" which was a movie chronicling some of the events and even up to hours before the death of Timothy Treadwell (1957 - 2003). If you are unaware of who Treadwell is, he was a man who traveled to Alaska every summer from 1990 through 2003 to film and live with the Grizzly bears. His purpose as he saw it was to protect the bears from all dangers and to study them. His footage shows remarkably close contact, and even touching the bears. He and his girlfriend were killed by a Grizzly in October of 2003 and we know this because their deaths were caught on audio tape. Thankfully the tape wasn't played, but its contents were discussed.

Now I love bears, all bears, always have and likely always will. I believe they are majestic creatures who I think live a lot like I do. We eat, we sleep, we poop, and if we can get some nookie from Mrs Bear than life is just that much grander. Watching what Treadwell did made me very jealous. I know I will never have an encounter like he had with a bear until I die and I get to do it in heaven (where I'm already dead and I'm pretty sure the bears in heaven will be pretty docile).

About half way through the film, while still jealous I realized that this man was certifiably insane and/or stupid. I admire his convictions and what he was trying to do but not in the way that he did them. While he was able to live for the most part among the bears, never did he harm them or do anything remotely untoward. What he did do I think is show some of those bears that human contact is OK and safe. This is NOT the case! In the end I don't think he did those wonderful animals any favours, and in fact may have inadvertently harmed them.

The bears didn't know him or know how he cared for them. In the eyes of the bear is only the indifferent stare of nature looking with curiosity at something that only an already full belly saves from becoming food. In the end Treadwell and his star cross'd lover did become dinner for a hungry bear looking to fatten up before the winter.

Park Rangers found and shot the bear with pieces of the two still inside.

The movie was an eye-opener for me. My respect and love of bears has not changed. My eyes were opened to the lengths that people will delude themselves based on absolutely no evidence. If you are a nature and/or bear lover than I do recommend the movie. I would caution only that there are a few times that the language gets intense. Only once or twice though.

Wow.

It's a dog eat dog world!

So last night was Chewie's "Graduation" from Grade One training (Jaci will blog on that later). Before we went to that we went over to my work partner's house for dinner. We were to return to Darren's after graduation because he and his wife had tickets to the Great Big Sea concert (actually he had the tickets and he opted to take his wife and not me, his partner-shocking I know). At any rate Darren suggested we bring Chewie to meet his dog Rosco.

I was leery. Chewie so far hasn't done remarkably well around other dogs. However, I know Rosco well and he's a very good natured and well trained mutt (I say mutt only because he has at least 6 discernible breeds in him). Rosco really is a great dog, and added to that Darren has a two year old son (Liam-one of the cutest I've ever seen!) and Rosco is very good with the toddler. So we decide that it's probably a good idea to introduce the two of them.

To make a long story short, after a few minutes of nervousness (mostly mine) Chewie and Rosco became fast friends. Almost to the point that it's too bad they're both fixed.

You Know You Are A Paramedic If…

…your stethescope says “here to save your ass, not kiss it!”

...you’ve ever told a patient to “move toward the light”

…you believe some patients are alive only because it’s illegal to kill them

…you can’t cure stupid

…you’ve seen more moons than the Hubbell Telescope

…you hope there’s a special place in hell for the inventor of the base page

…you never use the words “quiet” or “slow” to describe your shift because as soon as you say it, it will cease to be so.

…you wash your hands before you go to the bathroom

…you’ve ever thought a blood pressure cuff would be an excellent christmas gift

…you’ve ever spent more money on a stethescope than on a car payment

…you consider a tongue depressor an eating utensil

…you know it’s a full moon without having to look at the sky

…eating mircowave popcorn from a clean k-basin is perfectly natural

…you believe in the aerial apraying of prozac

…you believe that the “Tele-Health” progam is a Satanic plot

…you believe that every amulance should come equipped with a valium salt lick

…your idea of a good time is a code 4 as soon as your relief walks in

…you keep a little black book of your regulars to save you having to talk to them

…you start each shift by pre-filling for your regulars

…you have listed “HBD” as a final diagnosis

…you have used the “occular” method to check vital signs

…you know and have used the “East end assessment”

More to follow??

Ipperwash

Steve C. has some posts on this topic and I was starting to post a comment and then I realized that with the amount I was typing, I might as post on it. So here goes.

In Canada, we live in a free and democratic state, where we duly elect representatives to govern us. These folks draft and enact laws. Sadly sometimes these laws get broken and we therefore need a police force, not to confuse police force with police state. I know several of Hamilton's finest and a few RCMP Constables but not too many OPP. What I have learned is that police in this country are SO restricted in their activities that in the course of a 12 hour shift, they will answer only a few calls because each call generates MOUNTAINS of paperwork.

In many ways I believe their restrictions are a good thing. They should not be able to listen in on my phone calls unless they prove to a judge that there's a good chance I'm breaking the law. They should be required to advise me of my rights if they are going to deprive me of my freedom (i.e. put me in the clink). And as I have seen first hand, they respond with only the force needed to keep the peace and resolve violence (exceptions happen, but are rare). While it's true I don't expect our police to go about looking for a fight, it is equally true that if they have to fight, I don't expect them to lose.

With this being said, in that Free State, the OPP does answer to the office of the premier. The premier's office does not have the authority to order an assassination. Mike Harris could very well have screamed at the top of a mountain (with or without slurs) that he wanted all the protesters shot, hung, drawn and quartered, but it makes no difference. All police services have VERY strict rules about when they can and when they cannot use force, and using force because the premier said so doesn't qualify.

I don't profess to know everything about what happened at Ipperwash. But I know cops. To get such a strong police presence meant that the natives were either armed, threatening violence or both. They were breaking laws whether they believe themselves justified or not.

Were mistakes made? Probably. Only by law enforcement? Not likely. If the protesters made peaceful demonstrations and called their elected representatives persistently for action would Mr. George still be alive? Who knows.

Kierkegaard once said that "Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward."

'Nuff said.