Grounders--I don't get it!

Parents, do your kids come home talking about 'Grounders'? Mine do. Wtf? I first heard the term 'Grounders' about 8 years ago when I was working in a daycare. I had come to pick up some kids at an elementary school and, when I asked what they were playing, they gave me the rundown... According to them, 'Grounders' was a tag game played on playground equipment, and the person who was 'It' had to close their eyes while trying to tag other people also on the playground equipment. Anyone on the ground was 'T' (formerly 'time-out,' apparently this phrase has negative connotations for the wuss- generation) and couldn't be tagged. My first thought was 'Awww! Kids are so stupid!' and my second thought, naïve as I was, was that Grounders was just a flavour week and they would move onto something else next week. Well, stupid me, they did persist in playing it quite regularly until the end of that school year at which point I went on mat leave and largely forgot all about it.

Grounders continued to pop into my awareness over the years--I'd overhear it on the playground or a neighbor kid would mention it--and eventually I accepted it was actually a 'thing.' I went on the assumption that the kids on the playground had relayed the rules incorrectly or that I'd remembered incorrectly until one day a few months ago...

Me: Hey Bud! What did you do at recess today?

Him: Played Grounders.

Me: Hmmm. Grounders? How do you play that?

Him: Well, it's like tag and the person who is 'It' has to close their eyes and try to tag people on the playground equipment. But if you're touching the ground, you're T.

Me: Huh.

Part of me is a big fan of logic. And that part of me, just really wants to say...

Kids, I take issue with your stupid Grounders game. You've heard the phrase, “The blind leading the blind...” No? Whatever. Surely this is a case of 'the blind chasing the way-fucking-faster,' because, seriously, I just had a go with this whole running-around-with-my-eyes-closed thing and, I'm not going to lie, I've had more graceful walks home from the bar at 2AM. Respectfully I ask, how (the fuck) is someone with their eyes closed supposed to chase a seeing target down on a play structure? Seriously, you guys have had some stupid-ass ideas over the years, but running with your eyes closed on a play structure makes the top-five. As far as I can tell, kids, this game leaves you only two choices...Cheat or endanger yourself by actually running around with your eyes closed. Can you spell STUPID? Actually there is a third choice, and let me tell you, if adults played this game this is totally what they would do...You can sit your ass down on the grass, declare yourself 'T,' drink a glass of something fruity, and watch sir-it-alot stumble around blindly on the equipment. Score! …

...but, I'm a classy mom and, as such, I have kept those words to myself for the time being. However, I did decide to pay a little extra attention the next time I was on the playground. Sure enough, the kids were playing Grounders, and, as predicted, the sad little kid who was 'It' squinted shamelessly through her half-closed eyes while chasing the other kids around. Stupid.

So here I sit, blogging angrily about my pointless little gripe, and remembering how when I was kid I used to look at adults sitting (literally and metaphorically) at the sides of some AWESOME game I was playing and vow that I would never be so STUPID and grumpy as them.

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome--Worst. Name. Ever

Imagine the following conversation...

Jerry: Heard you weren't feeling well lately.?

Me: You could say that.

Jerry: So you're just tired all the time?

Me: Yeah, and a few other things...

Jerry: Girl, I hear ya. When I got back from Hawaii in January, it took me a week to turn around and then I made the mistake of going on a bender the weekend after. You know how that goes, and then last week I ended up with a flu and it feels like it's been a month since I felt normal, you know?

Me: I can relate to that.

Jerry: I remember last year there was like this 3 week period where I couldn't sleep past 5 AM.  Man, I was SO BAGGED at work. You don't even know...

Me: Yeah, that sucks, but it's a bit different.

Jerry: How so?

Me: Dude, I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

Jerry: You know, I wondered if I had that and then I had some bloodwork and turned out my hemo-something was low. Took some iron and I was good as new! Have you ever had your blood tested?

Me: Yes.

Jerry: Hmmm. I hear lots of people have luck with acupuncture for fatigue. I've never tried but I keep meaning to. Why don't you try that?

Me: I'll keep that in mind.

Jerry: You're not like (whispering) depressed or something?

Me: (Forehead slap)

Let's clear the air about a few things here... For one thing, I love Jerry. He's a kind and well-meaning friend, and I'm not being ironic. For another, I am not running down depression or any other mental illness as a diagnosis. And lastly, as irritating as it may be, I TOTALLY understand why conversations like this are inevitable... and do you know what it is? It's the DAMN NAME—Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Worst. Name. Ever.

Why? Because upon hearing these words, everyone and their dog feels compelled to:

a. Commiserate with their stories of tiredness—I get it, and I'm not belittling anyone's experience. It's true we have ALL been tired at times, some extremely so and some for long periods of time. It sucks. I understand. I guess why I find this slightly irritating is that Jerry's friend, Bill, with lung cancer would never have to endure a lengthy commiseration about Jerry's going cough. He wouldn't dream of it, because it's not the same thing. I can only blame the illness' name for Jerry's lapse in judgement here, and he probably would do the same to Bill if lung cancer was called 'chronic coughing syndrome.'

b. Offer an alternative diagnosis—everyone with a smartphone is a doctor these days! Maybe you're pregnant? Have you ever thought you might have MS? Lupus? Lyme disease? Thyroid disorder? Iron deficiency? I've heard them all. I can only assume that Jerry and other friends do this because the name CFS is somehow not convincing or weighty enough for the multi-faceted illness that it is.

c. Offer medical advice—I'm sure offering unsolicited medical advice is not limited to CFS. The reason this irritates me slightly is that after 4 years of living with this illness, does Jerry really think I have never had a blood test? Or considered an alternative treatment? Or given any thought to what might be causing this? Does he REALLY think he has a better idea about managing CFS than I do? I'm being too hard on the guy... He probably wouldn't be so inclined to offer advice if the illness was more frequently referred to Systemic Extertional Intolerance Disease (it is).

d. Make awkward references to mental illness—Jerry is a good guy, but sometimes I'm not sure what century he lives in... 'Whisper, whisper, depression. Ahem, anxiety. Ppppsst, anti-depressants. Have you ever thought about talking to a counsellor? No one has to know.' For Jerry and anyone else out there, I'm just going to put this out there loud and clear...I do not suffer with depression. I have experienced anxiety unrelated to CFS. It sucks BIG TIME. I have talked to counselor who I would see more frequently if I had unlimited time, funds, and babysitters, and there are no commonly prescribed meds for CFS. Oh, and the words 'depression, anxiety, anti-depressant, counsellor,' are not swears and they do not need to whispered for any reason. ALL CLEAR?

For the record, there are a number of alternative names for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome that I occasionally offer as an alternative, but, to be honest, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis is REALLY hard to say and confuses people. As for Systemic Extertional Intolerance Disease, well, it's neither catchy nor memorable nor currently accepted as a clinical diagnosis in this country, and conversations where I do offer these names inevitably go down something like this...

Me: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.

Jerry: Huh?

Me: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.

Jerry: The who said the what now?

Me: MY-AL-GIC. ENCEPH...

Jerry: I thought you had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome!

Me: (Forehead slap. Cue annoying conversation)

Science Shamers--It's time to Take it Down a Notch

The scientific method is not perfect. Any good scientist will tell you that. It's subject to flawed methods, imperfect experiments, societal pressures, at times it sells itself to the highest bidder, and it is planned and executed by fallible humans on dynamic situations—just like everything else. It is for these reasons, and for many others that I haven't touched on, that I respectfully ask the science-shamers (that is, those who use science to shame others) of this generation to take it down a notch.

Science-shamers? You know who you are.

You litter my newsfeed with things like, “The good thing about science is that it's true whether you believe it or not.” You are the mommy-gangs that constantly deride the 'anti-vaxxers' (oooo…two X's!) with facts and studies in support of your position.  You are the jerk who during a conversation last week laughed in the face of a woman who said she thought the whole 'carbon-thing' was a bit of a cash-grab. You make no pretenses about shaming those who access 'alternative' health-care services. You roll your eyes at anyone whose ideas or practices appear to contradict the going scientific trend. Need I go on?

Before I go any further, let me set the record straight…I am a self-professed 'science-person.' It is my university major, my kids are vaccinated, I believe in evolution, I utilize the best of modern medicine. I think what science has done for mankind in terms of quality of life is nothing short of miraculous. I am not anti-science, and I believe that it is a fine, even exceptional, tool for humanity. Science is what we use to make our best guess at any point in time, but I think it is important to remember that our 'best guess' today is not what it was 50 years ago nor is it what will be 50 years from now. To give you an example, consider the evolution of health care, specifically child-birthing practices, since the 1970's... If you're a thirty-something woman like myself, your birthing experiences were probably quite different from your mother's, and I'm going to go out on a limb and say that your experiences will probably be very different from those your daughter will have. Science probably had a lot to do with that. In the area of health care specifically, science uses information to inform best-practice as it always has, but science is not complete. ‘Best-practices’ in health care are not fact in themselves. They are merely guesses based on the pieces of fact we currently have at our disposal and they will continue to change. Perhaps that is something the science-shamers among us need to keep in mind. 

When I say science is not complete, I say that for a few reasons…One is that the inherent nature of the scientific method is to study variables in isolation. Of course this has its purposes, but as we know, NOTHING on this planet happens in isolation. Every tidbit of discoverable scientific fact is just a piece of a much larger picture. I do not think it is uncommon for the public or even prominent members of the scientific community to draw incorrect or overly broad conclusions based on a scientific study or two. Remember in the 1980's when cholesterol was the metaphorical anti-christ? There were some convincing studies linking blood cholesterol to heart disease, and suddenly everyone and their dog stopped eating eggs and minded their cholesterol and the food industry jumped on the opportunity to sell low-cholesterol-this and no-cholesterol-that. Of course science has gone on to create a more complete picture of the function of cholesterol in our diets and bodies, and, of course, everyone's eating eggs again, but the lesson for science-shamers here is: 

blood cholesterol linked to heart disease ≠ eggs are bad for you

I can just imagine the science-shamers of the 1980's in their acid-wash jeans citing all kinds of evidence to their egg-eating friends about what a poor dietary choice they were making.

Perhaps this type of shaming is not unlike those who recently turned their noses up at me when I opted not to take a course of antibiotics for a throat infection. (Antibiotics! Ha! If there is a better example of science being incomplete, I can't think of one!)

Finally, science is incomplete for another reason. Mockers, mock if you may. Haters, hate if you will, but in the words of Shakespeare, 'There are more things on heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' There are countless items which have yet to be studied, whether that be because science hasn't gotten to them yet or because there are matters in this universe that are simply un-study-able. There are factors that we may never be able to observe through the scientific method--love, hope, reason, and spirit, to name a few—if these un-quantifiable forces don't have an impact on the physical, then I am a monkey's uncle! There are forces at play in this universe yet undiscovered and perhaps never measurable…even a scientist will tell you that.

Science-shamers, I get it. Sometimes the actions and choices of others are utterly baffling. They may counter your instincts, challenge your sense of reason and everything you think science has ever told you. I have certainly been among your ranks from time to time, but please, the next time someone’s ideas offend yours sense of scientific decency, consider that they may not be denying the facts. They may simply have used them to reach a different conclusion, or perhaps they are accessing a different set of facts entirely. Who knows? Or maybe, just maybe, they have not based their ideas on science at all (gasp!) They are allowed to that.

Dad--Man, Myth, and Legend...

With Dad's 80^th birthday this year, I knew I wanted to write a tribute of some sort for him, so I made a simple prayer asking God to send me the words. As many of you will know, I have spent a lot of time writing the last few years, and as has often been the case many times in the past, God delivered the words… but for this occasion, he gave me just three—Man, Myth, and Legend.

Dad—The Man

I would like to tell you a little bit about Dad who was born the fifth child in large homesteading family in 1936. I would like to tell you that, as a boy, he was the same mischievous, hard-working person we know him to be today, but, let's face it, I have no idea because that stuff all happened before I was born. And, I'm sure any of his siblings would more equipped to provide information of that sort, So I’ll leave that to them.

Anyway, as Dad is fond of saying, “Your parents don't raise you, your kids do.” so, instead, I'll tell you a little bit about “The Man” I had a hand in raising. And Dad, “The Man” I have known for the last 35 years, I can only think to sum up in three simple values…

1. Hard work – I remember going for a run one day down correction line road, as I did many times. Dad was already living in town by this point, and I see the old Brown Ford dusting down the road, and I know I'm in trouble. Now some parents, other parents, might have been proud to see their daughter taking an interest in her health, getting out for some fresh air and exercise, but not MY Dad. The truck pulls up, “Get in,” he says, “there's strawberries that need picking.”

Anyone who has known Dad for longer than 10 minutes can attest to his tireless work ethic, if that's what one calls 80 years of devotion and long hours of farming, gardening, fixing, finishing, building, and raising a family, community, church, and so on.

Well, to this day, Dad has not actually succeeded in thwarting mine or any of his kid’s obsessions with physical exercise, but as I've grown older, I have really come to appreciate Dad's dedication to hard work. Which brings me to the second value that Dad, the 'Man' embodies...and that is

2. Generosity – All of Dad's hard work is not for naught. The fruits of 80 years worth of labour are rich and plentiful. You may ask what one does with such abundance… Well, they share it of course! Whether you’re his daughter receiving a trunk full of produce, or the Friendship Inn intaking enough garden potatoes to feed a small army, or whether you are the church basket or the new guy in town, or a stranger needing a hand with some household task, or a community member or one of the many others that I suspect no one will ever know about, we have all been on the receiving end of Dad's generousity and selflessness—A truly 'divine' quality.

3. Faith – What does my humble Dad or any of us for that matter know of faith? Well, have 16 children who you intend to raise on a farming income, and you will know faith--Faith in God's providence, Faith in the goodness of family and love, And Faith in sacrificing for others. I think I speak for all of Dad's children when I say that the gift of faith in a God that loves his children through anything this life has to throw at us and no matter where we roam or stray is the greatest gift anyone of us could hope to receive.

Dad- The Myth

Well, if you’ve lived 80 years and there isn’t a myth or two circulating about you, you’re probably doing something wrong, so I’m here to dispel a few.

Myth: With all those kids and a big farm to run, Dad didn’t have time for much else.

Fact: This is simply not true, and if you don’t believe me, just ask the Knights of Columbus, the Pro-Life Association, the local priest, or any newcomer to town if Dad doesn’t have time…

Myth: Dad was once caught throwing out a piece of rotting fruit at the Eastgate mall

Fact: The local Co-op stocks ‘cooking bananas’ just for Dad and in his 80 years not a single piece of fruit, ripe or otherwise, has gone to waste under his vigilant watch. Just as a side story, I remember walking in front of Grandma’s one day, and stepping over a little package or saran wrapped watermelon, complete with ants and such. Later, I was at Dad’s and he brings out a little plate of watermelon which I am eagerly tucking into, when he says, “Do you know where I got that?”

Myth: Years of hard-work, farming struggles, and difficult trials have left Dad a hardened man--stoic, and with opinions that are stuck in stone.

Fact: Dad unfailingly treats anyone he meets with kindness and compassion. When new people come into his life, Dad embodies the most true and pure definition of ‘acceptance’ I have ever witnessed—acceptance of different faiths, different nationalities, different walks of life, and different values. For me personally, this is one his most unique and proudest characteristics.

Dad—The Legend

Dad is a legend for two reasons:

1. I’ve never met anyone like him – The world over, I’ve truly never met anyone like my Dad. Dad does not wait for good to happen. He doesn’t cast his vote and wait for politics to achieve some distant goal. He doesn’t utter things like, “Someone needs to cut those ditches,” and then wait for Ted Gartner to do it. I’ll bet the shirt on my back that he isn’t active in ‘awareness’ campaigns or frequenting benefit banquets for newcomers to Canada. No. The banquet is in his home, THEIR home, literally. If he is ‘aware’ of some problem, some good that needs doing, Dad does it himself. He cuts the ditches, he and Rita grow food, prepare it, and share it on a near daily basis. He changes the church light bulb himself, addresses the golf-course litter problem personally, and he lends his tools, his time, even his cars without blinking an eye, even when those items occasionally return from, say, Edmonton a little worse for wear. It may seem a simple quality, but can you imagine how different the world would be if more people approached things this way?
2. He is an inspiration – For all the reasons I’ve talked about—generousity, hard-work, faithfulness, compassion, acceptance, and for any other reasons anyone else has in their hearts, I’m sure we can all agree Dad has inspired each of us in our own ways. I see little pieces of you, Dad, in all of us. Like Jesus, you are and will be a gift that keeps giving. Happy birthday and more to come.

A Letter to Friends Who Didn't Know Me Before Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

Dear Friend,

I'm writing you this because our friendship our has grown into something beautiful over the past few years, and I'm also writing this because friends should be honest with each other. And if I'm really honest, I'd have to tell you that there are two things I have been dying to tell you...

The first is that I wasn't always like this. If you knew how often I have I wanted to say that, you'd think me a lunatic. I want to tell you that I looked different, maybe more youthful, certainly more athletic. I had interests. I went out in the evening. I spent more time with friends and held a full-time job. I liked dancing and running and biking and going out on the town, but most of all, I felt different. I was happier, more energetic, sillier, more fun. I saw brighter futures, potential and opportunity. I was lighter and busier and just more. In fact sometimes I'm so desperate to tell you this that I want to scream it out loud. I WASN'T ALWAYS LIKE THIS...

But then I want to say--what I REALLY want to say--is simply... Thank You.

Thank you because you never demanded this explanation of me. So often I see myself as two people—the person before this illness and the person after it. I know it's silly and despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I can't help sometimes but think that my old friends stuck by the 'new me' out of some sense of loyalty or duty. But for you, there is no 'new me' or 'old me' or anything else. There is just 'me'--Good enough as I am to find an awesome friend like you! You see, the greatest struggle with this illness outside of the everyday physical stuff is believing that, in spite of everything I have lost, I am still enough. And the knowledge that the me-after-Chronic-Fatigue is enough to befriend your awesome-ass is incredibly affirming, more than you know. So, thank you for that.

You know, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to see myself outside the parameters of 'before' and 'after' this illness or if I'll ever really let go of the notion that I was somehow 'more' of person before Chronic Fatigue wreaked havoc on my life. But on days when thoughts like that get me down, I will try to see myself through your eyes.

Lots of love,

Adele

The One 'Must-do' Summer Activity for 2016

School's out for summer! If you're anything like me, those words fill you with one part 'Sa-weet!' and three parts 'OMG! What am going to do with them for all that time?' Well, I'm sure you've already come across your fair share of lists of must-do summer activities, you've enrolled your kids in swimming lessons, and concocted grand plans for day trips and week-long holidays at the lake. You're mentally compiling a list of craft ideas and outdoor activities for play-dates with friends and you've spent a small fortune on gadgets, water guns, and slip and slides, all to ensure that neither their boundless energy nor a day of the precious summer season is wasted. But, you're forgetting something... In fact, you're forgetting the best thing about the season--something we just don't get enough of the rest of year--an activity that is both timeless and revolutionary at the same. And that is this...

Nothing.

Sweet nothing.

If you're anything like me, the thought of doing or planning nothing makes you uneasy. It conjures up visions of your household positively erupting in mess with bored kids fighting and screaming while you pull your hair out until such a time that you become adequately defeated enough to enlist the services of Captain TV and Nanny Smartphone to rescue you from imminent disaster. Now, I'm not guaranteeing that won't happen, but I will guarantee that it wouldn't be the end of the world. I guess I'm just suggesting that kids, like us, need a little more of, well, nothing—time and space to be creative, relax, and to just let things happen (or not happen).

Occasionally the shift that occurs from one generation and the next is quite surprising to me, and this is one of those times.  Do you know what my mom planned for me every summer? Nothing.

Do you remember what your Auntie Martha used to do when you came over to play with your cousins? Well, if she was like mine, she watched All My Children and brought out some orange Kool-Aid around 3 o'clock. Your grandma? Mine made me pull weeds and pick raspberries and paid us in lemon drops and rosebuds. From memory, NO ONE in my neighborhood really planned anything for their kids, and, do you know what? IT WAS THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR!

In my neighborhood, we used to get up to all sorts of things...tree houses, swimming (no one drowned in my memory), we played in the sprinklers, we let our imaginations run wild, we camped in tents made out of nets and blankets, we collected sticks and rocks and bugs and bottle caps, we got dirty, we ran in the rain, we jumped, we climbed, we ran, we hid, we had so much fun we forgot to hydrate or put on sunscreen. We even found other kids to play with and we adventured in pastures and groves of trees, we kicked balls and played 500 (does anyone else call it that?), we learned to catch and shoot hoops without drills or instruction, and unless our parents commandeered us into some house or yard work, WE JUST PLAYED, and I'll say it again, it was the BEST!

When my mind runs away with thoughts like these, of childhood summers that were easy and carefree, I worry that I just might be doing a disservice to my kids with all of this planning and structure. My guess is that there might be a hiccup or two and maybe an adjustment period while we learn to slow down, but my pledge this summer for my family is to do a little less of something and a LOT more nothing! Join me if you dare!

Fear--The new F-word

You can’t turn your head these days without hearing some expression with the word ‘fear’ in it--fear-mongering, ‘the politics of fear’ or, my personal favorite, ‘hope over fear.’ Or failing that you hear someone accusing someone else of having the latest ‘phobia’-du-jour—Islamophobia, xenophobia, homophobia, you name it. If these expressions and accusations are to be believed, it would seem Canadian society is hopelessly plagued by spineless, ignorant, and hateful people only capable of making decisions based on these less-desirable characteristics. But you know what? I beg to differ. I don’t think that this the case at all. I think most Canadians are empathetic human beings capable of drawing rational conclusions, even if one doesn’t entirely agree with them. If there is one thing on this planet that I can’t stand, it is when people demonize their opposition. I’m not joking when I say this, not fear, is the thing wars are made of, and, in my humble opinion, that is exactly what the use of these fear-phrases intends. I’m talking about things like, ‘Oh, you don’t agree with my stance on immigration? You must be xenophobic’ or how voters in our past federal election who favored a more proactive approach to ISIS were labelled ‘fearful’ or (my favorite) blaming religion for using scare tactics to encourage bigotry, misogyny, homophobia and every other world problem. Oh, and if my facebook newsfeed is to be believed, this whole fear-slinging phenomenon is not limited to North America as I recently had the pleasure of hearing similar garb from British friends accusing their Brexit opposition of spreading propaganda and fear-mongering for this, that, or the other thing. Quite frankly, I’m sick of it for a few reasons…

#1 Information that does not support your position does not equate to fear-mongering (necessarily). Before I get into a rant, let me give some credit to the whole ‘fear’ thing. I don’t think it is disputable that people occasionally employ fear-tactics to sell things, sway votes, or otherwise push their agenda. It happens. I am just of the opinion that the phrase ‘fear-mongering’ is now a grossly overused default for anyone who wants to discredit information or people they disagree with. Sometimes information is just information, and, what’s more, I think the vast majority of the Canadian public is intelligent enough to know the difference.

#2 People make decisions out of fear all the time. Do you have a lock on your house? How about your car? You act out of fear. Do you avoid certain things, say delicious foods, because they might harm your health? You act out of fear. Maybe you live in a certain area of your city that you feel is ‘safer’ for your family. You act in fear. Why else would you spend a hundred thousand dollars more to live in the exact same house you could choose in a different area of town? Do you avoid tall grass for fear of ticks? Have you ever avoided a bad area of town at night or maybe chosen a less treacherous route over a shorter one? You act in fear. Do you look both ways when you cross the street or salt your steps when they get icy? You live in fear… I’m being ridiculous now? I can hear you thinking…that is just exercising reasonable caution to avoid catastrophe. Couldn’t agree with you more! People exercise reasonable caution when it comes the protection of their jobs, homes, property, children, communities, and countries ALL. THE. TIME. This does not make them fearful, ignorant or spineless or anything else.

#3 The surest way to spread fear is by talking about fear all the time. So if you really buy into all this fear business (which I don’t) and you actually desire to stop it…Stop talking about fear all the damn time! Is it too much to ask for you to inspire the masses with your fearless, hopeful ways without calling others down?

#4 The strongest fear operating in this country right now is the fear of being called fearful. Let’s be honest…the last thing anyone wants to be called is a coward. Nobody in their right mind wants to be called a racist, a bigot, or a ‘phobic’ of any kind, and ironically this unique brand fear is being spread by the fear-phobes themselves. People walk on eggshells, they skirt around vital issues, they turn blind eyes, they don’t say what they mean, they agree for the sake of keeping the peace, politicians are backed into corners, our society doesn’t act when it most needs to…all for what? To avoid being called fearful. That’s not something to be proud of.

Last but not least…

#5 The mentality that ‘if you’re not with me, you’re fearful’ (AKA against me) is absolute crap. Again, if you want to start a war, divide people into friends and enemies…this is absolutely the way to go about it. This is the roots of extremism--My way or the highway. With me or against me. Hope or fear, which do you choose? DON’T DO THIS STUFF. Between your way and my way—between hope and fear—are a million wonderful shades of grey where real conversation, compromise, and growth will thrive. Of course there are people out there that you will think are pretty crappy but, hey, they probably think you are pretty crappy too, and guess what, we are ALL invited to the conversation. There are even those that are worthy of some of the awful titles I’ve mentioned earlier, but, the majority of Canadians, in my opinion, tread with decency and compassion in the grey areas, and that is a good good thing. Don’t mess with it. Don’t back people into corners with this fear propaganda. Hope or fear? It is not one or the other. Stop talking like it is.