Réserve Écologique Forêt la Blanche.

Il a été un lundi occupé, donc je suis juste se déplacer à l'affichage de l'activité de dimanche maintenant. Le temps était juste, seulement autour de la barre des 20 degrés Celsius. Je me dirigeai vers l'est de Gatineau à Buckingham et puis vers le nord jusqu'à la route 315 à la Réserve Écologique Forêt la Blanche.  Ce type de réserve est le plus haut niveau de protection de l'environnement au Québec. La plupart de ces réserves ne sont pas réellement accessibles par les services de la route ou une offre visiteurs et Foret la Blanche est le seul qui le fait. Le droit d'entrée est de seulement 5 $, qui va aux Amis de la Forêt la Blanche, l'organisme sans but lucratif qui gère le centre en partenariat avec le ministère du Développement durable, de l'Environnement et des Parcs. La réserve couvre plus de 2000 hectares dans les municipalités de Mayo, Mulgrave et Derry, et Saint-Sixte. Le plus grand lac de la réserve est de Lac La Blanche, en plus de nombreux autres petits lacs, rivières, ruisseaux et. Il n'y a de nombreux kilomètres de sentiers, variant en longueur et en difficulté. Généralement, ils ne sont pas trop difficile mais avec une surface de gravier fin proche de la zone de stationnement et centre d'accueil et une surface de terre battue plus loin. Il existe de nombreuses plates-formes ponts, jetées, et affichage bien construits qui font qu'il est facile et pittoresque des masses d'eau traversant. Je choisis de la randonnée à partir du stationnement de Lac La Blanche où les rives sont bordées avec un stand de l'ancienne pruche ancienne. L'odeur de la pruche dans l'air était relaxante et agréable. J’ai aussi apprécié un petit déjeuner, je l'avais amené avec moi au bord du lac. Passé Lac la Blanche, le sentier passe par Lac en Ciel, Lac aux Hérons et Lac Amik avant de retourner à l'aire de stationnement. Les stands de grande érable et le hêtre ont tout juste commencé à montrer des signes de feuilles d'automne. Dans environ une semaine ou deux à partir de maintenant, le paysage dans la région sera encore plus spectaculaire.

It’s been a busy Monday, so I’m just getting around to posting Sunday’s activity now.  The weather was just right, only around the 20 celsius mark and sunny.  I headed east from Gatineau to Buckingham and then north up Route 315 to the Réserve Écologique Forêt la Blanche.  This type of reserve is the highest level of environmental protection in Quebec.  Most of these reserves are not actually accessible by road or offer visitor services and Foret la Blanche is the only one that does.  The entry fee is only $5, all of which goes to Les amis de la Foret la Blanche, the not-for-profit organization that runs the facility in partnership with the Quebec Department of Sustainable Development, Environment, and Parks.  The reserve covers over 2,000 hectares in the towns of Mayo, Mulgrave and Derry, and Saint-Sixte.  The largest lake in the reserve is Lac La Blanche in addition to many other smaller lakes, rivers, and brooks.  There many kilometres of trails, varying in length and difficulty.  Generally, they are not too difficult though with a fine gravel surface closer to the parking area and visitor centre and a packed earth surface further away.  There are many well-constructed bridges, boardwalks, and viewing platforms that make it easy and scenic for crossing bodies of water.  I chose to hike from the parking lot to Lac la Blanche where the shores are lined with a stand of ancient old-growth hemlock.  The smell of the hemlock in the air was relaxing and enjoyable.  I also enjoyed a small lunch I’d brought with me by the lake.  Past Lac la Blanche, the trail passes by Lac en Ciel, Lac aux Herons, and Lac Amik before returning to the parking area.  The stands of tall maple and beech were just starting to show signs of autumn leaves.  In about a week or two from now, the scenery in the area will be even more spectacular. 

Voici quelques photos de dimanche après-midi;

Here are a few photos from Sunday afternoon;

                                                             Tom était ici!  Tom was here!

                                    Lac la Blanche, direction est.  Lac la Blanche, looking east.

                                 Lac la Blanche, direction nord.  Lac la Blanche, looking north.

 

                                              La petite chute devant Lac aux Hérons et Lac Amik.

 

 

Where has all the satire gone?

Are Canadians even capable of laughing at themselves anymore?  I’ve noticed during the current election campaign that political satire is dead in our country.  I grew up in the 1990’s when it was at its peak.  We had the Royal Canadian Air Farce on radio and television, and also the equally funny Double Exposure.  My elementary school French teacher even kept a few old issues of a satirical magazine from Quebec in her classroom.  I loved reading those if my work was finished early.  I had those pages all to myself, nobody else in grade 7 at Listowel Central Public School knew about or was interested in caricatures of Brian Mulroney, Pierre Trudeau, and Rene Levesque.  And then there was Don Harron’s long-running Charlie Farquharson character, present in numerous books, radio, and television.  Harron even played Charlie on the long-running American country music program Hee Haw from 1969 to 1992 without the political material.  American audiences just wouldn’t have understood references to Pee-Air Terdo and Brian Baloney.  I saw Harron do Farquaharson live once and was barely able to stay sitting up because I was laughing so hard.  Farquaharson’s account of the marital breakdown of Pierre and Margaret Trudeau, complete with references to the Rolling Stones and a lack of Satisfaction remains one of my favourite pieces of Canadian political humour. 

Air Farce was a must-watch program every Friday night on CBC-TV and at 1:00pm eastern each Sunday on radio.  There wasn’t a politician or political topic they wouldn’t satirize and audiences loved it.  There was Don Ferguson’s memorable Preston Manning, continually saying “I love that word Refooorrrm” in a voice eerily similar to Manning’s own.  Ferguson also was a master of the dour Lucien Bouchard and a smooth-talking Dean Martin-like Brian Mulroney.  The late Roger Abbott completely aced the voice and personality of Jean Chretien, each week making statements like “Ok and for sure on dat pipples of de country, I am de most poopoolar Prime Minister and will balance the budgie before I calls de next erection.”  Luba Goy was another favourite, routinely imitating Sheila Copps, complete with screaming and temper tantrums.

Double Exposure, first on CBC Radio Saturday mornings and later on CTV was equally funny.  The husband and wife duo of Bob Robertson and Linda Cullen were excellent at imitating the voices of political leaders.  Robertson’s Jean Chretien was even better than that of Roger Abbott.  Pierre Trudeau would often make an appearance as The Phantom of the Ottawa who haunted 24 Sussex Drive and still attempted to control the behaviour of Jean Chretien.  Robertson also did a version of Brian Mulroney so smooth that it was sometimes impossible to tell if it really was Mulroney speaking or not.  Cullen was a pro at Kim Campbell, Flora Macdonald, and Barbara MacDougall, who had served as Mulroney’s Minister of External Affairs.  She always introduced herself as “The Big MacDougall.” 

Aside from Rick Mercer, Canadian television and radio is completely lacking in good political satire right now.  In the car this morning, I was listening to CBC’s This Is That.  While it was funny, there was no good election satire at all.  If this was 1993 or 1997, the program would have been merciless towards all parties.  Why have we become a country of people incapable of laughing at ourselves?  Are satirists here fearful for their careers if they criticize politicians and government?  While one generation of political satirists has retired or even passed away, I don’t see much promise for the current or future generations.  The young millennials are too quick to please and placate.  Their answers and opinions are complicit and bashful.  I’m not saying satire should be completely disrespectful and offensive, but a little bit of wit and humour-infused criticism would show that the public still has a pulse and pays attention.  We’re taking ourselves far too seriously.  With a Prime Minister who resembles a character from an old horror film, an NDP leader who looks like a lumberjack looking for a brawl at the local tavern on a Saturday night, and a Liberal Leader who resembles a prince in an animated Walt Disney film, you would think we could have come up with some good satire by now.  Is our society really healthy when people seem reluctant to or afraid to have fun?

All politics all the time; is it really worth it? - Toute politique tout le temps; Est-ce que ça vaut le coup?

All politics all the time; is it really worth it?

I can’t sleep tonight.  As multiple questions about the state of our world went through my head in bed, I decided I may as well get up and put them into print here.  The biggest question of all is if this blog is even achieving anything by being nothing but a source of political commentary?  Am I really convincing anyone to examine their own opinions and those of others?  Has a single Harper Conservative or reactionary Republican who may have read any of my posts decide to repent of his/her ways?  Have any Justin Trudeau Liberals or moderate Democrats realized that the NDP is the only party for working people and that Bernie Sanders is the only one speaking the truth?  Should this blog just become instead a repository of my much more neutral thoughts and activities? 

During the past week, it became apparent that my posts reflecting upon outdoor landscapes, historic sites, and the wholesome company and combination of family, friends and faith get more views and positive comments from readers than the ones where I go after political issues and people like an angry dog with an old soup bone.  I have friends and family of all political opinions, and contrary to what many may think, I genuinely respect all of them.  Is continually railing about elitism, corruption, and inequality doing anything to reduce or eliminate this problems?  I’d rather bring people together instead of bore them or divide them further.  This may come as a shock to some, but I have friends who are Conservatives and Liberals in Canada and I know Republicans in the United States.  I can name at least three good things about each of these people.  I genuinely enjoy the company of all of them and there is always food in the cupboard or a place on the couch for them if they visit and I know they would all offer the same hospitality.  In no way at all would I ever want to come close to sacrificing that wonderful gift of friendship.

I like talking about politics, but continually doing so in a forum like this often starts to feel like an exercise in futility.  I’ll never sink to the level of posting cute videos of cats or cheesy memes, but is the contemporary audience really more interested in seeing photos of trails, monuments, campsites, mountains, and lakes?  The continuous cycle of political news in the contemporary media, most of it filler is bewildering to keep up with.  Would I be doing others and myself a greater service by just ignoring it and making this blog a sort of refuge from all of the foolishness of the outside world?  Most of us live in cities and cannot easily take even an hour each day for a walk in the country and look at, hear, touch, and smell things that were not all man-made.  Maybe a place to look at for five minutes online that contains nature, nurture and humour wouldn’t be such a bad thing?  

Toute politique tout le temps; Est-ce que ça vaut le coup?

Je ne peux pas dormir ce soir. Comme plusieurs questions sur l'état de notre monde sont passés par ma tête dans le lit, je décidai que je peux aussi bien se lever et de les mettre en impression ici. La grande question de tous est de savoir si ce blog est même quoi que ce soit atteint par n'être rien mais une source de commentaire politique? Suis-je vraiment convaincre quiconque d'examiner leurs propres opinions et celles des autres? A un seul conservateur Harper ou réactionnaire républicain qui peuvent avoir lu aucun de mes messages décident de se repentir de ses / ses moyens? Justin Trudeau avez des Libéraux ou démocrates modérés réalisé que le NPD est le seul parti pour les gens qui travaillent et que Bernie Sanders est le seul à parler la vérité? Si ce blog vient de devenir la place d'un référentiel de mes pensées et activités beaucoup plus neutres?

Au cours de la semaine dernière, il est devenu évident que mes messages réflexion sur les paysages de plein air, des sites historiques, et l'entreprise saine et la combinaison de la famille, les amis et la foi obtenir plus de points de vue et des commentaires positifs de lecteurs que ceux où je vais, après les questions politiques et de personnes comme un chien enragé avec un vieil os de la soupe. J’ai des amis et la famille de toutes les opinions politiques, et contrairement à ce que beaucoup peuvent penser, je respecte vraiment tous. Balustrade est continuellement à l'élitisme, la corruption et l'inégalité de faire quelque chose pour réduire ou éliminer ces problèmes? Je préfère rassembler les gens au lieu de leur alésage ou les diviser davantage. Cela peut venir comme un choc pour certains, mais je avoir des amis qui sont conservateurs et les libéraux au Canada et je sais que les républicains aux États-Unis. Je peux nommer au moins trois bonnes choses au sujet de chacune de ces personnes. Je apprécie véritablement la compagnie de chacun d'eux et il y a toujours de la nourriture dans le placard ou une place sur le canapé pour eux si ils visitent et je sais qu'ils seraient tous offrir la même hospitalité. En aucune façon, tout ce que je veux ne plus jamais venu près de sacrifier ce merveilleux don de l'amitié.

Je aime parler de politique, mais de faire en permanence de sorte dans un forum comme celui-ci commence souvent à se sentir comme un exercice futile. Je ne serai jamais abaisser au niveau de l'affichage des vidéos de chats mignons ou mêmes fromagé, mais est le public contemporain vraiment plus intéressé à voir les photos de sentiers, les monuments, les campings, les montagnes et les lacs? Le cycle continu de nouvelles politiques dans les médias contemporains, la plupart de remplissage est ahurissant à suivre. Serais-je en train de faire d'autres et moi-même un grand service par simplement l'ignorer et de faire ce blog une sorte de refuge de l'ensemble de la folie du monde extérieur? La plupart d'entre nous vivent dans les villes et ne peuvent pas facilement prendre encore une heure chaque jour pour une promenade dans le pays et de regarder, entendre, toucher, et sentir des choses qui ne sont pas tout l'homme. Peut-être un endroit pour regarder pendant cinq minutes en ligne qui contient la nature, nourrir et l'humour ne serait pas une si mauvaise chose?

Hugh O'Neil; my first politician.

The first politician I ever met has died.  Hugh O’Neil, who represented the former constituency of Quinte in the Ontario Legislature from 1975 to 1995 died on Monday at age 79.  The popular Liberal MPP was a tireless community activist and had respect that transcended partisanship.  Elected to the opposition benches during the government of Premier William G. Davis in the 32^nd year of the 42 continuous years of Progressive Conservative (when progressive actually meant something to conservatives) domination, O’Neil found himself on the government side of the legislature in 1985, and in cabinet after the sudden ascendancy of David Peterson as Premier.

I met Mr. O’Neil when I was four or five years old, in 1983 or 1984.  We lived in Frankford, the friendly village on the Trent River I still call my original hometown.  My Mom used to take part in the yearly Lion’s Journey for Sight, a walk-a-thon sponsored by the Lion’s Club that raised money for the Canadian National Institute for the Blind (CNIB).  The crowd assembled to begin the walk in the parking lot of the Lion’s Club hall, which was actually Frankford’s former railway station, an old frame building that was demolished over 20 years ago.  Elected officials always show up at these events, usually by invitation from the organizers.  It lends some support to a community cause and is free advertising for politicians hoping to be re-elected.  A photo was snapped of Mr. O’Neil giving me an Ontario coat of arms pin, which I still have over 30 years later.  The photo appeared in the next edition of The Quinte Report, the newsletter Mr. O’Neil occasionally sent in the mail to every household in the constituency.  A copy of it is still somewhere in my parent’s house in Listowel, my other hometown.  I still remember the red-brick house in the background of the photo.  Other people lived in it back then but now actually long-time friends of our family live there.

I remember red signs saying “Re-elect Hugh O’Neil, Liberal” during the 1985 Ontario election.  These signs on sticks that suddenly appeared in front yards and along roads fascinated me as a kid.  I never really knew what the difference was between PC, Liberal, or NDP back then, but seeing those signs started an interest and involvement in politics that has endured to this day, of course with changes in party affiliation and times of both profound enthusiasm and despair along the way.  We had a next door neighbour in Frankford named Frank Hoey.  He was an elderly gentleman with a thick Scottish accent who had moved from Toronto for retirement with his wife Fran.  Despite the thick accent, Frank had spent much of his younger life in Montreal where in the 1930’s he became one of Canada’s most prominent amateur athletes in competitive snowshoeing before becoming a prospector and a major figure in Canadian mining history.  One of these days, Frank will be the subject of a completely separate story.  I did not know he was ever famous until after he died and I read about him in the newspaper.  Anyhow, I used to love talking with Frank over the fence while I played in the backyard, often driving my little green plastic car called “Tuffy” which he and his wife had actually given me.  I said to Frank one day that I liked Hugh O’Neil.  Frank didn’t seem too impressed.  He said that nobody should ever seek re-election and that it was selfish for any elected official to go around expecting anyone to vote them back into office.  Frank was either a strong advocate of term limits or he was a conservative and just didn’t want to say so to a six year old neighbour on a plastic car.  I collected buttons back then, not clothing buttons, but the kind that advertise a particular cause or business.  The first political button someone ever gave me was a Hugh O’Neil Liberal button.  It’s still in a box somewhere too.

Although we were never friends or even knew each other, Hugh O’Neil unknowingly began my interest in politics.  As I said before, this interest has seen changes in party affiliation and times both good and bad along the way.  I also spent five years interviewing politicians as a reporter and can honestly say, notwithstanding my defense of the NDP as of late, that I met elected officials from every party in that experience whom I genuinely found to be hard-working, sincere people who put their constituency and community first.  By all accounts being shared in the day since his passing, Hugh O’Neil was one of those elected officials.

Ivy Lea, Alice, and rain.

The Thousand Islands were a washout.  The weather forecast for this weekend was looking good at first, but by Friday morning rain was in the forecast for late Saturday and also Sunday.  There was indication the rain would not begin until late Saturday so I thought I would go to the campsite I had reserved at Ivy Lea Park in the Thousand Islands on Friday afternoon and stay until Sunday with the hope of having more good weather time for hiking at Landon Bay and Jones Creek on Saturday.

The plan started off quite well.  I was on the highway by 2:00pm Friday, making my way south to Brockville and then west along the beautiful and under-appreciated 1000 Islands Parkway to Ivy Lea Park, a provincial campground by the Thousand Islands Bridge.  Campsite 105, right on the rugged shore of granite and pines.  A filled-in stone foundation of a long-demolished building served as the tent platform with a view downstream to the towering bridge over the deep and turbulent St. Lawrence.  It was warm and sunny.  North Country Public Radio, my favourite NPR affiliate from Canton New York was easy to pick up on the transistor radio so I happily set up camp while David Sommerstein’s popular show The Beat Authority played in the background.  The weather report said only a 30% chance of rain for Saturday.  I was optimistic.  I cooked a great supper and sat looking at boats pass by while I ate.  I took a walk around the park and photographed some of the scenery after.  It was warm and miserable weather seemed far away.  I sat by the campfire in the shadow of the bridge which is impressively lit up at night.  1000 Islands tour boats passed by, one had a band playing on the top deck with a crowd of people having a good time.  It reminded me of an old Labatt’s 50 beer commercial with a similar scene.  I’ve only seen it on Youtube, but some reading this will likely remember seeing it on actual television.  My Dad remembers seeing it being filmed while working in the Thousand Islands as a young learner Ontario Hydro Lineman in the early 1970’s.  I took a late night walk around the park.  Clouds were few, the sky was beautiful.  I stood on the boat dock and across the small bay light shone from vacation home windows.  I walked up to the closed park office and used the wifi from the picnic table outside.  The forecast was looking worse.  Rain was inevitable, and much sooner than originally stated.  I washed up and walked back to camp.

As I had earlier sat by the fire and while I was preparing to retire for the night, I couldn’t help but hear and see the behaviour from the campsite next to mine.  I don’t know the name of the main character, but I’ll refer to her as Alice.  I call her Alice because she reminded me of the song "Pay no attention to Alice" by classic country performer Tom T. Hall which is about a drunk woman whose husband has to put up with everything.  That is exactly what was happening in this example too.  She sounded like her throat was well seasoned with cigarettes, booze, and maybe the odd bag of nails.  She talked all night about how she was going to go swimming.  She also said she felt dizzy and tired but was going to stay awake for a couple of hours until the others got there.  I was worried a whole car load of idiots would show up.  They thankfully never did.    I had bad visions of her swimming for many reasons, mostly because of her safety.  The water is really deep in that channel and the current is strong. 

The rain must have started at around 7:00 am.  I got up at 9:00 and it appeared to have briefly stopped but not for long.  I ended up eating instant oatmeal under the canopy of my tent.  As I looked out at the rainy St. Lawrence, I decided hiking was not going to happen.  I thought about taking refuge at a coffee shop in nearby Gananoque I had read about, but then decided that would get both boring and expensive.  I concluded heading for home was the best plan.  After visiting the park ranger to settle the financial side of my early departure, I hastily dismantled the camp.  As the rain came down, Alice stumbled over wearing a cheap, clear-plastic rain poncho.  She again said she was going swimming after commenting how bad the rain was.  She was then going to build a campfire and then go home, which I didn't quite understand the logic behind since building a fire in the rain isn't really worth doing.  Just before I left at around 11:45am, I saw the long-suffering husband walking her over the hill to the boat dock for a swim.  Oh, she was also hoping to get out on her jet ski even though it was raining too.  "Pay no attention to Alice, she's drunk all the time, hooked on wine, bunches of it, and she ruined her mind."--Tom T. Hall.  I headed towards home but first made a stop for apple cider and apple butter at an orchard just east of Brockville.  After arriving home, I spent the rest of the day doing laundry.  It has not stopped raining since yesterday morning.  Had I stayed, it could have been a repeat of my other past rain-soaked camping catastrophes, the Restoule disaster of 2006 when my poorly engineered campsite became the centre of a waterfall, or the Samuel de Champlain emergency of 2014 when my tent became situated upon a precariously muddy island in an intermittent stream that emerged during a full week of rain.

The camping itself may have been a washout, but as usual, I managed to find some enjoyment in it.  The scenery was beautiful while the weather was still dry and the evening was relaxing.  Of course, Alice was amusing too, but also sad to see and hear.  There are usually good but unfortunate reasons for people to adopt self-destructive behaviour.  Our society is full of problems that lead to these things and we need to be much more compassionate and prepared to help those living in what seems like perpetual difficulty.

Click on the photo to see a larger version.

Site 105 at Ivy Lea on a sunny, warm, September Friday

North span of the Thousand Islands Bridge from Site 105.  Hill Island, fully inside Canada is on the other side (south).  The bridge opened in 1938 and connects Highway 137 in Ontario with Interstate 81 in New York.

Looking west at sunset from Ivy Lea.

Thousand Islands Bridge, north abutment of the Canadian span with cable anchors.

Bridge alight and campfire at night from the campsite.

Réflexion pour la fête du travail.

Les syndicats sont une cible privilégiée pour les conservateurs. Il fut un temps où je honnêtement abonné à l'activité populaire de blâmer les syndicats pour beaucoup de nos maux sociaux et économiques. Puis je commencé à réaliser combien mieux que je l'aurais été dans certains lieux de travail du passé si je l'avais été dans une union, surtout quand il est venu à salaires, les heures et les conditions. Je regardai à mes deux étés comme un ouvrier de l'étudiant pour la fin et se lamentaient Ontario Hydro et réalisé combien le salaire que je faisais me permis de sauver des milliers sur les frais de scolarité et réduisant ainsi la nécessité pour les prêts étudiants ou de l'aide de mes parents. La plupart des endroits non-syndiqués je ai travaillé dans étaient très toxique quand il est venu pour les relations de travail, les salaires et les conditions de travail. Il est un sentiment de solitude quand les choses vont mal au travail et il n'y a nulle part où aller pour de l'aide. Les options sont soit resté avec elle et souffrent ou cesser de fumer. Depuis mon retour à la vie étudiante en 2011, je l'ai de nouveau été membre d'un syndicat comme un assistant d'enseignement. Les salaires et les conditions qui vont avec, comme avant, ont considérablement réduit mes fardeaux financiers.

Avez-vous déjà remarqué comment les gens qui détestent les syndicats le plus sont généralement ceux qui ne sont pas membres d'eux et ont pas la possibilité d'organiser? Ils sont frustrés et en colère et au lieu d'essayer de changer la situation, le transformer en ressentiment à ceux avec un meilleur environnement de travail. J’ai grandi dans une petite ville où le seul lieu de travail du secteur privé avec un syndicat était un des supermarchés. Les autres industries avaient tous les bas salaires et je rappeler certains ne disposent pas des meilleures conditions de travail non plus. Certaines des industries étaient contrôlées par de vieilles familles de fonds qui ont utilisé avec bonheur leur richesse accumulée des modes de vie de luxe tandis que les ouvriers luttaient avec beaucoup moins. Les différences de classe et les divisions sont assez mauvais partout, mais dans une ville de 5000, ils sont douloureusement visible et audible que ce soit au terrain de baseball, patinoire, école, et le seul endroit où aucune division sociale doit être faite, à l'église. Les lecteurs peuvent penser que certains de ces anciens argent marchands et industriels familles étaient conservateurs à la fois dans le sens idéologique et partisane. Cependant, je sais que beaucoup d'entre eux étaient des libéraux qui ont fourni des fonds importants pour les candidats locaux et leurs campagnes.

Les électeurs ne doivent pas se laisser berner par le mantra progressif de Justin Trudeau pour cette raison. Ses comptes de campagne sont bien approvisionnés par les capitaines d'industrie. Comme avec les conservateurs, les libéraux ont aussi leurs riches amis dans les entreprises canadiennes, que ce soit sur la rue St-Jacques à Montréal, rue Bay, à Toronto, ou relativement inconnus petites villes comme celle que je grandi. Les libéraux ne sera jamais laissez les politiques du travail ou économiques progressistes deviennent réalité si elles obtiennent de la manière de les motivations de leurs amis des grandes sociétés. Justin Trudeau a critiqué à plusieurs reprises le plan du NPD pour un 15 $ l'heure le salaire minimum fédéral. Il était le Parti libéral qui a éliminé le salaire minimum fédéral dans les années 1990 lorsque la célèbre entreprise Paul Martin était ministre des Finances. Oui, il est vrai, beaucoup de gens dans les industries réglementées par le gouvernement fédéral sont déjà fait plus de 15 $ l'heure. Cependant, beaucoup font pas beaucoup plus haut que. J’ai passé cinq ans dans une industrie réglementée par le gouvernement fédéral et à une seule entreprise fait le salaire minimum provincial qui était alors seulement 8 $ l'heure. À une autre société, il y avait des membres du personnel qui ont travaillé d'emplois supplémentaires dans le but de payer le loyer et nourrir leurs enfants. S’il y avait un minimum légal, aucune entreprise ne voudrait l'embarras de payer leurs employés que peu. Un minimum fédéral décent serait une incitation à les payer plus cher (comme 17 $ ou 18 $) et d'augmenter leur niveau de vie ainsi. La plupart des entreprises sous réglementation fédérale sont très rentables et auraient pas des difficultés à payer leurs employés en conséquence. Toutefois, des sociétés comme Power Corporation, dont le portefeuille comprend plusieurs stations de radio et de télévision sont amicaux avec les libéraux, ils seraient rapidement assurer un minimum de 15 $ jamais arrivé. L'héritage Power Corporation avec le Parti libéral fonctionne fort. La famille Desmarais qui a fondé et de contrôler la société ont une longue histoire de fournir des fonds et des ressources humaines pour les libéraux. John Rae, le frère de Bob Rae était un dirigeant de l'alimentation qui a géré les campagnes électorales de Jean Chrétien. La fille de Jean Chrétien a épousé un des fils Desmarais. Maurice Strong, l'ancien fonctionnaire des Nations Unies a commencé sa carrière dans l'entreprise et a été embauché par Pierre Trudeau pour être le premier chef de la direction de Petro-Canada quand il a été fondé comme une entreprise appartenant à l'État. Paul Martin, l'ancien ministre des Finances et le Premier ministre qui détient désormais la main de Justin Trudeau lors d'événements de campagne au Québec ont commencé à Power Corporation trop, finalement reprise Canada Steamship Lines laquelle Power anciennement détenue. Martin, toujours le patriotique canadienne, a choisi de naviguer ses navires sous les enregistrements beaucoup plus abordable du pavillon et des salaires plus bas des pays du tiers monde. Ce mouvement commodément évité les salaires et les syndicats élevés! Pas étonnant qu'il a éliminé le salaire minimum fédéral comme ministre des Finances!

La fête du Travail est destinée à célébrer le rôle des personnes travaillant dans notre société et de l'économie. Il est destiné à honorer ceux qui ont lutté et continuent de lutter pour un meilleur niveau de vie pour les personnes travaillant. Pour l'avenir au 19 Octobre, pensez à comment le bon choix doit être fait pour continuer à protéger les intérêts des Canadiens de travail et de réduire l'inégalité économique dans notre pays qui est en augmentation à un taux dégoûtant et inacceptable. Nous savons que les conservateurs sont contre les travailleurs. Les libéraux vont essayer de vous faire croire qu'ils sont de votre côté, mais ils sont trop fondés par beaucoup d'argent et de ses suspects habituels élite. Il est une autre option. Ne sacrifiez pas vos droits en tant que travailleur en élisant des gens qui ne sont pas intéressés par votre bien-être ou celui de votre famille.

Reflection for Labour Day

Unions are a favourite target for conservatives.  There was a time when I honestly subscribed to the popular activity of blaming organized labour for many of our social and economic woes.  Then I started realizing how much better off I would have been in certain workplaces of the past if I had been in a union, especially when it came to wages, hours, and conditions.  I looked back to my two summers as a student labourer for the late and lamented Ontario Hydro and realized how the wages I was making allowed me to save thousands on tuition and thus reducing the need for student loans or help from my parents.  Most of the non-unionized places I’ve worked in were quite toxic when it came to employee relations, wages, and working conditions.  It’s a lonely feeling when things are bad at work and there’s nowhere to go for help.  The options are either stick with it and suffer or quit.  Since I returned to student life in 2011, I again have been a union member as a teaching assistant.  The wages and conditions that come with it, as before, have greatly reduced my financial burdens.

Have you ever noticed how the people who dislike unions the most are usually those who are not members of them and have no opportunity to organize?  They are frustrated and angry and instead of attempting to change the situation, turn it into resentment to those with a better work environment.  I grew up in a small town where the only private sector workplace with a union was one of the supermarkets.  The other industries all had low wages and I recall some did not have the best working conditions either.  Some of the industries were controlled by old money families who happily used their accumulated wealth for luxurious lifestyles while the labourers struggled with much less.  Class differences and divisions are bad enough anywhere, but in a town of 5,000 they are painfully visible and audible whether it’s at the baseball diamond, rink, schoolyard, and the one place where no social division should be made, in church.  Readers may think that some of these old money merchant and industrial families were Conservatives in both the ideological and partisan sense.  However, I know that many of them were Liberals who provided significant funds to local candidates and their campaigns. 

Voters should not be fooled by the progressive mantra of Justin Trudeau for this reason.  His campaign accounts are well stocked by captains of industry.  As with the Conservatives, the Liberals too have their wealthy friends in corporate Canada, whether it be on St. James Street in Montreal, Bay Street in Toronto, or in relatively unknown small towns like the one I grew up in.  The Liberals will never let progressive labour or economic policies become reality if they get in the way of the motives of their corporate friends.  Justin Trudeau has repeatedly criticized the NDP plan for a $15 per hour federal minimum wage.  It was the Liberal Party that eliminated the federal minimum wage during the 1990’s when the famously corporate Paul Martin was Finance Minister.  Yes, it is true, many people in federally regulated industries are already making more than $15 per hour.  However, many are making not much above that.  I spent five years in a federally regulated industry and at one company only made the provincial minimum wage which was then just $8 per hour.  At another company, there were staff members who worked extra jobs in order to pay rent and feed their children.  If there was a legal minimum, no company would want the embarrassment of paying their employees that little.  A decent federal minimum would be an incentive to pay them more (such as $17 or $18) and thus increase their standard of living.  Most federally-regulated companies are very profitable and would have no difficulty paying their employees accordingly.  However, companies like Power Corporation, whose holdings include several radio and television stations are friendly with the Liberals, they would quickly ensure a $15 minimum never happened.  The Power Corporation legacy with the Liberal Party runs strong.  The Desmarais family who founded and control the company have a long history of providing funds and human resources to the Liberals.  John Rae, brother of Bob Rae was a Power executive who managed Jean Chretien’s election campaigns.  Jean Chretien’s daughter married one of the Desmarais sons.  Maurice Strong, the former United Nations official began his career with the company and was hired by Pierre Trudeau to be the first CEO of Petro Canada when it was founded as a government-owned company.  Paul Martin, the former Finance Minister and Prime Minister who now holds Justin Trudeau’s hand at campaign events in Quebec started out at Power Corporation too, eventually taking over Canada Steamship Lines which Power formerly owned.  Martin, ever the patriotic Canadian, chose to sail his ships under the much more affordable flag registrations and lower wages of third world countries.  That move conveniently avoided high wages and unions!  No wonder he eliminated the federal minimum wage as Finance Minister!  

Labour Day is meant for celebrating the role of working people in our society and economy.  It is meant to honour those who struggled, and continue to struggle for a better standard of living for working people.  Looking ahead to October 19, think about how the right choice needs to be made to continue to protect the interests of working Canadians and reduce the economic inequality in our country which is increasing at a disgusting and unacceptable rate.  We know the Conservatives are against the workers.  The Liberals will try to make you think they’re on your side, but they too are bankrolled by big money and its usual elite suspects.  There is another option.  Do not sacrifice your rights as a worker by electing people who are not interested in your well-being or that of your family.

Bay of Quinte, Baptism, Friends, Families, Fort, and Fudge.

It was a short tour but a fine one.  I originally had no plans for Labour Day weekend.  I would have happily stayed home for most of it, writing and cleaning.  It was a wonderful honour though about two weeks ago when some fine friends in Napanee Ontario invited me to the baptism of their little baby girl on Saturday.  It was an invitation I gladly accepted.  My friend, the father of the little girl is a highly sincere and thoughtful individual.  Back in January of this year, he attended my Grandmother’s funeral, even standing outside in bitterly cold and damp weather at the graveside.  Good deeds should never go unnoticed and attending a much more joyful occasion was easily the proper way to reciprocate.  I also have a tremendous amount of respect for young parents these days who choose to raise their children in the Christian faith.  It is no small challenge in a time when religious observance as a whole is declining and under sharp criticism.  And besides, who can refuse the opportunity to make a fuss over a baby?  I don’t have children, so I really am thankful for any opportunity to enjoy the children of my friends and family.

Napanee happens to be in one of the oldest settled parts of Ontario.  Even my friends live in a house that dates back to the 1830’s.  It’s on Highway 2 (also known as ‘number two highway,’ or just ‘number two’), I refuse to call it County Road 2 even though it’s been that for nearly 20 years thanks to the Mike Harris wrecking crew).  I set up camp Saturday at the Adolphustown Park, located at the entrance to the Bay of Quinte off of Highway 33, also known as the Loyalist Parkway.  The drive from Kingston to Adolphustown on 33 is one of a kind.  The road is right next to the shore of Lake Ontario most of the way.  200 year old farmhouses and barns with orchards and vineyards abound.  Adolphustown Park is home to the place in 1784 where a large number of United Empire Loyalist settlers came ashore.  These were people who had previously lived in what is now the United States and were not too impressed with the Revolution that began in 1776 and weren’t sure the whole liberal, republican (in the non-partisan sense) was a good thing.  George III back in England meant stability to them, even if he was regarded as authoritarian by the rest of the American colonists.  I was fortunate to have a fine campsite where I set the tent up little more than 10 feet from the water.  There was always a cool breeze, which was more than welcome given this late summer heat wave we’ve been having.  Near the campsite is a monument to those who arrived in 1784 and a small cemetery where many of them are buried in unmarked graves.  This part of Ontario is so old.  The history, architecture, and even the local culture easily can make it feel like another time.  The various versions of the Union Jack are almost as commonly seen as the contemporary Canadian flag.

There was something wonderfully wholesome feeling about the main event of the day.  Congregants gathered under the high ceiling of St. Vincent de Paul Roman Catholic Church in Deseronto.  I sat my Lutheran self down in a pew and managed to follow most of the liturgy fairly well.  It’s strikingly similar to what I’m used to, although I’m sure some Lutherans and Catholics would both vehemently disagree, which would actually mean that Lutherans and Catholics were actually agreeing that they disagree with me.  I don’t normally sing hymns in church, regardless of denomination or if its headquarters is in Rome or St. Louis.  However, when it came time for the last hymn, I couldn’t resist.  I opened up the book, which they call a missal (not to be confused with missile, a weapon of destruction that would doubtlessly offend Mennonites), and what Lutherans would call a hymnal and turned to it.  I sang along in that hot, humid old church “And they’ll know we are Christians by our love…”  I thought about how it’s really the love we show to others is all that matters as a basic identifier of our faith.  That particular song is sung in churches of many varieties, I first learned it back in my Intervarsity Christian Fellowship days as a university undergraduate in a room mostly full of Pentecostals and Baptists.  The baptism ceremony was after the mass ended (Roman Catholics call it mass, almost everyone else calls it a church service, mass always sounds like such a heavy word to me, and service always reminds me of a service station for cars offering full serve gas pumps, a garage, a Pepsi machine, and if you’re really lucky, a small restaurant).  The little girl looked wonderful in her white gown, parents and godparents smiling, the priest happily eager to administer the first sacrament of the church.  In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and it was all done, the parents smiling accompanied by the godparents.  The social time after at the family home was wonderful.  Friendly, unpretentious, and fun people.  I considered leaving early to return to my camp but they said to stay longer.  I’m glad I did.  It’s always enjoyable to get to know the family and other friends of one’s friends.  It gives a better understanding of who they are.  Sharing stories and ideas with people who were previously strangers is fulfilling too.  In a world where too many live solitary existences in front of screens, good old fashioned in-person communication still carries an influence and sense of sincerity no electronic device can convey.  I arrived back at my camp at 11:00 feeling contented and optimistic that civilization isn’t in quite the rotten shape if often appears to be in.  I fell asleep feeling the breeze through the tent windows and hearing the waves on the bay.

I packed up fairly quickly Sunday morning and headed east on scenic 33 to Kingston.  I had a free pass to Fort Henry, the War of 1812 era fortress that overlooks the mouth of the St. Lawrence River there.  I had not been right inside Fort Henry since I was about 10 years old and mostly wanted to go back for nostalgic reasons.  I remember going there once and having my picture taken with the regimental mascot, David, who is a white goat.  According to what I read today, Fort Henry is now on the 10^th David, officially known as David X.  Goats don’t live forever, even if they have the relatively easy life as mascots for fake regiments at government owned tourist attractions.  Another time, my parents took my sister and I there to see a huge evening show in the fort complete with a mock battle.  I remember sitting there seeing cannons and field artillery firing in all directions with soldiers shouting at each other.  It really made the death and destruction of war seem fun, even the Governor General of the time, Jeanne Sauve, was in attendance that evening back in 1989.  I did not go to Fort Henry today looking for an education though, I’m already well aware of what happened in the War of 1812 (the British won, and Harper lied, Canada did not win because Canada didn’t exist yet, the USA lost).  The ironic fact is though that Fort Henry never saw a shot fired in anger.  Most of the fort was in ruins until it was rebuilt in the 1930’s as Great Depression government project to help the unemployed.  As I looked at the various licence plates in the parking lot, I quickly concluded that Americans do not mind coming to Fort Henry to see re-enactors dressed as British soldiers fire cannons toward the United States, just across the river.  After looking around Fort Henry, I headed north towards home along County Road 10, the Historic Perth Road.  I stopped in Westport, a picturesque village on Rideau Lake at the foot of Foley Mountain.  I stopped to buy some fudge from a shop there that produces what I believe to be the best fudge in eastern Ontario.  It’s been a weekend well spent.  

Several photos follow.  Click on each photo to see a larger version.

By the Bay of Quinte at Adolphustown Park

Loyalist cemetery, Adolphustown Park

United Empire Loyalist monument at cemetery, Adolphustown Park

Martello Tower below Fort Henry at mouth of Cataraqui River.  Royal Military College of Canada campus on other side.

Royal Military College from Fort Henry

Canada was not yet "Ad mare usque ad mare" in 1812.

An admission of an embarrassing part of Canada's history at Fort Henry.

Football (in the English sense), 1812 style.  It was over 30 degrees Celsius and the players were wearing wool pants, long sleeve shirts, and wool caps.  

One of Fort Henry's many narrow passage ways.  I remember being very young and going through here and thinking it led to a dungeon.

Britain is still in charge here.

Parade Square, upper fort

Lower fort

How do we know the room is orderly?  The door was locked and I could not see if anyone was keeping it tidy.  I do however know it was not a mess as I toured that room, which was quite orderly considering it was a mess.  Does anyone get the puns here at all?