Six

C beat me to the punch and now I'm at a loss for words. I've tried to start this entry six times and nothing is working. It's not that I don't have anything to say it's that no words are able to say it.

I'll try again tomorrow.

I love you, C. Happy anniversary.

A spoonful of thankfulness to help the bitterness go down...

My last entry paints a pretty bleak picture of our last two and a half weeks. The fact is that it hasn't all been insensitivity and head shaking. Times like these really can bring out the best in people. I've never been good at accepting generosity because I have always felt guilty about my privilege and tried to be the generous one as penance. As the youngest, being fiercely independent was an early goal of mine and one at which I have been quite successful. I rarely reach out for help even when I need it. The past 17 days have schooled me in the grace of acceptance and comfort of humility.

First, let me give thanks for all the kind words we have had the honour of hearing and reading. From family and friends and strangers and public figures, the sincere, heartfelt lines-- long and short-- have offered so much comfort. One dedicated reader of Paul's offered thanks to C and his sisters for the time that Paul spent writing (which they acknowledged took time away from family). The honourable Ralph Goodale spoke of Paul's effect on Federal Legislation. Old friends offered memories. Family members who could have painted words of sympathy with one broad brush chose instead to address individual cards to each family member, recognizing their unique feelings of grief.

Next, to your gestures of friendship and kindness. Thank you so much for all the food. Not having to cook has freed up so much time-- our most valuable commodity as of late. The wholesome menu has also offered its own kind of comfort. Thank you as well to those who thought of K and provided her with vegetarian fare. You saved her from a solid diet of grilled-cheese sandwiches and dainties. Thank you for the donations to Amnesty and all other monetary generosity. Thank you to Krista for the photographs-- now no matter what happens in the years to come, we can travel to the farm through the album. Thank you for picking up groceries, for feeding and petting our cats. Thank you for mowing our lawn and watering our flowerbeds. Thank you for listening. Thank you for checking in. Thank you for leaving work and driving an hour to offer a shoulder of the old friend variety in our darkest hours. Thank you for coming to the funeral and showing your support-- the turn out was overwhelming. Thank you to all those who have lived this hell themselves and who have offered their advice and understanding.

In spite of some bumps along the media road, I do want to thank the majority of newspapers in this province for their kind tributes to Paul. I also want to thank Working and her pals at the CBC for putting together a CD featuring clips of Paul as well as their coverage from the day after the accident.

Finally, thank you for thinking of us. I truly believe in the power of positive energy and though nothing can bring Paul back, being surrounded by such an incredibly supportive group will help us to heal.

If you did not know Paul, I am sorry you never got the chance. Your life would have been richer for it. Even if you did know him in one capacity or another, chances are you would be surprised at what a polymath he was.

The following are articles about and tributes to Paul. Please honour him by having a read.

CBC.ca
Grainews
Working From Home Today
Winnipeg Free Press
His obit and a lot of the columns he wrote

An Entry that Can't Fix Anything

For the past 10 days, I have been writing an entry in my head. An entry that detailed all of the offenses of good taste, ritual, etiquette, and common sense that I have witnessed. An entry that spoke the words intended by the dirty glances I shot parents who didn't bother to teach their kids about the decorum of death (Hey you-- while your Beware of my Wiener shirt might be fucking hilarious in other contexts, but right now it seems a little tacky. And you dopes on the trampoline, would you mind bottling your giddy excitement and saving it for some other time? We're trying to mourn here.). An entry that sought to shame the selfishness of those who decided it would be appropriate to show up under the guise of offering support, eat the food donated to the family and then go golfing while C and those he loves teetered on the brink of insanity. An entry that called out those who see this death as an inconvenient interruption to their vacation schedule rather than as the tragedy that it is. An entry that squashed the ridiculous rumors surrounding the circumstances. An entry punishing the media for their insensitivity (hmmm... should we publish a picture of the deceased to honour him or a picture of the farm machinery that killed him so that everyone can have a grotesque visual of how he died? Farm machinery it is!). An entry that illustrated the incredible lack of self-awareness demonstrated by the self-important funeral director who was so concerned with putting old family friends first that he all but completely ignored actual family-- you know-- his son, his daughters, his mother (not that they're as important as nieces by marriage or half-brothers to the step-son). An entry mocking the words of "comfort" offered by those who have no business uttering a word (I'm glad that you think it's "so good to see new life," we're kind of busy thinking about the fact that this "new life" no longer has a grandfather. I'm doubly glad that you take comfort in believing that "God works in mysterious ways." Must be easy to decipher the mystery when you have been allowed to live to see your eighties.). An entry that catalogued the insensitivity of those who saw fit to use C as an errand boy because surely only the widow must be suffering. An entry that articulated all of my anger in an unquestionable and unmistakable way.

I wrote this entry in my head all week because it is so much easier to be angry and indignant at all the crap going on in front of me than it is to stop and gaze into the infinite depths of my family's profound loss, to allow his passing to be real, to accept all there is to accept. He's gone. My husband's father is gone. He is no longer there to chat with, to pass on wisdom regarding farming, politics, or life. He is no longer there to offer or receive support. He is no longer there to tell stories or share jokes. My daughter's grandfather is gone-- the man who was going to keep our family roots buried deep in the earth of this province's farmland, the man who was going to teach her so much during her summer visits, the man who gave her father his voice, his laughter, his values, his passions-- he's never coming back. And there's not a damn thing anyone can do to bring him back. Anger is easy. Sadness is. So. Damn. Hard.

Please bear with me as there will be no posting for a while. We lost C's father in a tragic farming accident yesterday and so our energies will be used there.

One more thing...

I have started new posts about N on my other blog: http://seatofmomspants.blogspot.com

I won't be keeping this link up forever, so be sure to bookmark it!

Thanks for reading!

P.S. To Coffee Crack Entry

My observations about coffee were in no way intended to communicate any hatred of coffee itself and was satirical in nature.

I love coffee. Especially Stone's Throw Coffee House coffee. Just putting that out there.

I love you, too, Todd and Shar!

Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: This is totally racist! LOL

Is it just me, or is anyone else SO FREAKING TIRED of receiving email forwards that are just thinly veiled conservative agenda pushing?

SERIOUSLY.

They begin seemingly benign, trite, and cliched (like ALL forwards) but then turn into malignant, trite, cliched RIGHT WING CRAP. It is as if they are using patriotism and freedom of speech like ketchup-- if I hide my racism in here, people will admit they agree with me. That will teach those bleeding heart Liberals!

Sorry guys, no matter how thick the disguise, nothing can change the bad taste of your message.

Example:

My father loves Maxine from Shoebox greetings. He thinks the old hag is hilarious. I frequently get Maxine forwards from my dad. The final frame (clearly not an original) in the most recent is an image of Maxine holding a cup of coffee with the following text added in:

"Towel Heads"

Recently I received a warning about the use of this politically incorrect term, so please note: We all need to be more sensitive in our choice of words. I have been informed that the Islamic terrorists, who hate our guts and want to kill us, do not like to be called "Towel Heads" since the item they wear on their heads is not actually a towel, but in fact, a small folded sheet. Therefore, from this point forward, please refer to them as "Little Sheet Heads". Thank you for your support and compliance in this delicate matter.

News flash: If you need a greeting card cartoon character to lend credibility to your beliefs, chances are your values are suspect. Your concern isn't freedom of speech, it's freedom of ignorance. And any human being who believes that the writers at Hallmark thought this was clever and actually wrote it is a complete and utter tool. It isn't clever. It isn't even funny. It's obvious and pathetic.

And to still get crap like this in spite of recent publicity about racist email forwards, let's me know that people just don't get it. So, people-- please think critically about everything you read and pass on-- even crappy forwards. At the very least, don't send it to me. You know me better than that. If you want to talk freedom of speech, let's do so in an intelligent way.

The Man's Crack: How Coffee Keeps Us Compliant

I wish this entry was going to live up to its title. There is nothing more I would rather do than spend a few hours exploring this argument in a university-English-class-where-the-prof-lets-you-choose-your-own-topic kind of way, but we're off to Hawaii on Saturday and I have other stuff to do (and I lied back there-- I would much rather be in Hawaii than writing a pointless yet entertaining essay). So you are going to have to live with what I can produce in 40 minutes or less.

We just got a Keurig Brewing System for our kitchen. That's right. We don't make coffee any more. We brew it. With a system.

I got it for C for Father's Day because he was always complaining about our crappy 12 cup coffee maker that leaked on the counter (we used to use a French Press, but it didn't keep coffee warm for me throughout the day). And since I didn't get anything for Mother's Day (just a fact, not trying to rub it in, C-- although I will be posting that story on my other blog later today), I thought I might as well get something we both could use.

This entry began brewing in my mind this morning when every time I walked past the machine, I would think, "I can't wait for N's nap so I can have some..." Seriously. The life I created who basically performs miracles of development each day was playing on the carpet and I was hoping for less time with her awake so I could enjoy some delicious fresh java.

My name is Sleeves, and I'm an addict.

It got me thinking about how caffeine is the most socially accepted drug in the universe and why that might be. Besides the obvious (it doesn't cause hallucinations or slowed reaction times and actually improves performance in a number of cognitive and physical tasks), I'm fairly confident coffee is The Man's way of maintaining the capitalist structure. Think about it. Every workplace has a coffee maker. We have been given coffee breaks as a reward for our work. If the boss asks you to come in early or work late, what do you use to help get you through? Coffee. And we think we are "treating" ourselves-- indulging on the job-- when what's really happening is that The Man is using us as His beans and making economic lattes each day. They don't call it the daily grind for nothing. And we're OK with it because we're getting something out of it, too-- a fix.

Jimmy's a young go-getter, fresh out of high school, eager to make some real money in the corporate world. He gets a job in clerical. It's not where he wants to be in 5 years, but it's a good place to start. On his first day, Joe (a clerical employee of 37 years) shows Jimmy around. The tour ends in the break room where Joe begins to show Jimmy how to use the coffee maker.

Jimmy: Oh don't worry about that. I don't drink coffee.

The break room, previously a-buzz with gossip and inappropriate jokes falls into a hush.

Joe: Oh, but you will, Jimmy. You will.

Joe continues with the demonstration and Jimmy feigns attention in an effort to discourage the hot stares of the other employees.

The next day, Jimmy arrives at work 15 minutes early and heads into the break room to socialize before punching his time card. There's a cute girl sitting alone at the table. She looks up, as if she was expecting him.

Cute Girl: You must be Jimmy. I'm Joanne. It's great to meet you.

She extends her perfectly manicured hand for a handshake.

Joanne: I'm an early riser, too. Can I get you a coffee to start your day off on the right foot?

Jimmy: No thanks, I'll just have some water.

Joanne: (laughing flirtatiously) Water. That's a good one. Seriously-- cream? Sugar?

Jimmy: No-- I...

Just then, in walks Jimmy's supervisor, Jose.

Jose: Hey Jimmy! Wanted to start your day off right, so I brought you a double-double in your very own company travel mug.

Not wanting to be rude, Jimmy accepts the sweet, creamy treat.

Jimmy: Well, guess I better get to work...

Jimmy heads to his work station, sets down the unopened mug, and starts working. Around 10:30, the distinct aroma of coffee drifts in and Jimmy realizes it's break time. Not wanting another coffee related confrontation, he works straight through to lunch. Even though he's behind in his work and would like to work through lunch, Jimmy knows he needs a break because his stomach is growling and he's feeling tired from his low blood sugar. As he gets up to go, he notices the still, unopened mug.

Jimmy: I wonder what all the fuss is about. I've tried the stuff before and can't say that I liked it. What am I missing? It was such a nice gesture of Jose to bring it in for me and I hate wasting anything... I might as well give it a try.

And so Jimmy takes the bait. He opens the cup, the distinct scent carried on the steam rises to greet him. He takes a swig and the smooth, sweet, sophisticated flavour slides past his palate warming him body and soul. He's hooked.

With caffeine now coursing through his veins, Jimmy decides that he can skip lunch after all.

Months pass and now you would hardly recognize Jimmy. He arrives at work early, but only to be the first in line at the coffee maker. The coffee stains around his eyes are like track marks. His initial caffeine jolt keeps him efficient until 10:15 when he begins counting every painful minute until 10:30 when he can refill his cup. His favourite lunchtime spot is an international coffee chain where he orders tasteless lunches to accompany his venti Americano. He brings back a double macchiato for his boss knowing that he is up for a promotion. He is excited about his coffee date with Joanne later that night. Not only is coffee the fuel in his tank, it is also the grease of corporate (and romantic) wheels.

Because he is always thinking about his next fix, Jimmy doesn't take time to look at the bigger picture. He doesn't think critically about his place in the world-- about his true dreams and aspirations. He forgets his five year plan and instead ends up right where The Man wants him-- in the giant hamster wheel of 9-5, his paycheques reinforcing the strong foundation of our economy: coffee.

Even in this recession, I would venture a guess that coffee sales aren't down. Perhaps some people have stopped paying for $4 lattes, but you can bet that they invested in some grounds for home. Nothing could cause this industry to crumble-- heck, they even have Oprah's Dr. Oz touting the medical benefits of java. And we all know about the Oprah Effect, right?

In conclusion, go grab yourself a cup and keep our economy and The Man as strong as your brew.

Wait... was that what I was trying to say? Who cares-- I'm going to get a refill.

Yeah! What she said!

This article by Gail Vazoxlade (my financial hero from Slice Network's Till Debt Do Us Part) captures exactly how I feel about the financial practices of our generation and the ones that are coming up behind us.

I have to admit that I very well could have been one of these folk and still sometimes have to shake that "picture" she describes out of my head and trade it for a photo of reality, but C has had an incredibly positive influence on me with regards to finances. I came into our relationship with a car loan. He had an 86 Golf that was (needless to say?) paid off. I came into our relationship living one month behind thanks to Mastercard and my habit of spending my next paycheque. C came in with an incredible credit score from his years farming. During the first 4 years of our relationship, I spent over $20 000 I didn't have on my education (fortunately, I got much of it back in scholarships and bursaries). C had no student debt to speak of even though he had just graduated. In the first six years of our relationship, my credit card was paid off, we sold my car, my student loans were put to rest (in cash! Thanks international teaching!) and we saved up enough for a downpayment on our home (C used his RRSPs for the downpayment on our first house-- he was 23 years old at the time). It boggles my mind how hard he has worked his whole life to keep out of debt. This will be the first summer in his 8 years of teaching that he hasn't had another job.

I must say that we have been very fortunate in that every piece of furniture we own except for one couch, our TV stand, our mattress (which was purchased 9 years ago), N's crib and dresser, and the bedroom set we recently splurged on was a hand-me-down from my family. This has been extremely helpful in keeping us from falling into the consumer trap.

We have also been fortunate in that our degrees happen to be for a profession that is always hiring and that rarely has lay-offs. Our extra health coverage and retirement plan also free up some cash flow.

I grew up with everything. Seriously, everything. But C has shown me that earning everything you need and even some of what you want is so much more fulfilling than just being handed it all or taking it before you earned it. We don't live super frugally, but we stay within our means, which to us means saving for what we want before we buy it (in the vast majority of cases, our most recent car purchase did not meet that criteria, but it was a VERY good deal), and putting money into savings and investments for our future.

C's budgeting and forward planning has helped us maintain our standard of living in spite of my being on maternity leave. Even though I am not the brains behind the operation, we always communicate about our finances and ensure that we are on the same page. I know that if we were cartoon characters, he would be the angel and I would be the devil on the shoulders of our financial relationship, but we've managed to achieve a respectful balance that keeps us in the black and keeps me feeling like the girl who has everything.

Gail says that money is the number one reason for divorce. I guess we should look up the number two reason because, for now at least, we've got number one cased. Thanks, C.

Rereading this, I realize it could come off as smug, but I am super proud of where we are right now and I can't apologize for that. It is true that a lot of stars aligned for us to be in such a great position and for that I am thankful, but C also had the financial wit to know what to do when they did align and that is where I am most indebted.

You are brilliant, and the Earth is hiring.

Paul Hawken delivered this commencement speech to a 2009 graduating class hungry for hope.

Here is an appetizer...

There is invisible writing on the back of the diploma you will receive, and in case you didn't bring lemon juice to decode it, I can tell you what it says: You are Brilliant, and the Earth is Hiring. The earth couldn't afford to send recruiters or limos to your school. It sent you rain, sunsets, ripe cherries, night blooming jasmine, and that unbelievably cute person you are dating. Take the hint. And here's the deal: Forget that this task of planet-saving is not possible in the time required. Don't be put off by people who know what is not possible. Do what needs to be done, and check to see if it was impossible only after you are done.

When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my answer is always the same: If you look at the science about what is happening on earth and aren't pessimistic, you don't understand the data. But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and the lives of the poor, and you aren't optimistic, you haven't got a pulse. What I see everywhere in the world are ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world. The poet Adrienne Rich wrote, "So much has been destroyed I have cast my lot with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world." There could be no better description. Humanity is coalescing. It is reconstituting the world, and the action is taking place in schoolrooms, farms, jungles, villages, campuses, companies, refuge camps, deserts, fisheries, and slums.

Now go get your main course.