A Moderate Dilemma

Nowadays, what does one do, and where does one go, when one is a moderate liberal? Of course, a moderate conservative could also ask the same question. What has happened to moderation, period? Who represents moderates anymore?

There was the recent incident where a young Muslim girl was caught on video twerking to some music. She was wearing a hijab at the time and was thoroughly excoriated on social media with vile comments going as far as wishing her to be killed for disrespecting Islam. Seriously? She apologized through emotional tears,

But as far as I am able to discover, not one liberal media outlet stood up for her. Nothing but crickets were heard.

Why is religion in general and Islam in particular so protected by the media, particularly the left-leaning portion of the media? And why has that symbol of female oppression, the hijab, become so sanctified? If you choose to wear it, fine and dandy, but let's not hold it up to be a symbol of female empowerment, for it is quite the opposite.

While I am inclined to rail on about the problems that religion causes, right now, I wish to focus on to the fact that I am particularly distressed by the silence of the left of the political spectrum. It seems that the old, moderate left has been overtaken by the radical left, the illiberal left, the authoritarian left, the regressive left, or whatever you choose to call it. Even the institutions that remain more moderate, for the most part, refuse to stand up to the authoritarianism of the far left, and I just can't understand it.

Speakers have been de-platformed at universities, even moderate ones because they have unpopular ideas. Apparently, students no longer  want to hear ideas other than those that match their preconceptions, and they will shout them down, even erupting into violence. In most cases they haven't bothered to thoroughly examine the speakers' views but are willing to protest based on hearsay.

When a moderate, intellectual woman such as Ayaan Hirsi Ali is de-platformed, there is a problem. She is an ex-Muslim who only wishes to reform Islam, not eradicate it. She's a woman who suffered FGM as a child and who has lived under death threats, but it seems that no one from the left wants to listen to anything that that this intelligent and thoughtful woman might have to say based on her knowledge and experience.

Not even listen! Why not listen, discuss, exchange ideas, even refute if you have something of substance other than screaming to contribute?

Seemingly, the only people willing to speak out about such genuine problems seem to be those from the right, and I am not of the right, for I believe in social justice. I am a pretty centrist sort of bloke who has for the most part leaned a little to the left. I believe in women's rights, universal health care, gay rights, and moderate welfare for the poorest amongst us. So the extreme conservatism as it exists now is very problematic for me. On the other hand, I also believe in free expression, and I don't believe, for example, that religion should be exempt from scrutiny. The left is certainly leaning that way, and it bothers me.

So, here I am, stuck in the middle of an increasingly polarized society in which the two sides prefer to shout at each other while plugging their ears. There just seems nowhere for moderates to go anymore.

Easter Decorating Begins on a Snow Day

I have lost count of all of the snow days this winter, and it ain't necessarily over yet. We had yet another last week, this one caused by ice from freezing rain to be exact (but we still call them snow days in this house). Our driveway was a skating rink in the morning.

Of course, this means that we had the kids all day, but it's not a very demanding task anymore. Danica read a book, and they can both get lost in online games, be they on the computer, phone or tablet. We do, however, have to limit their time, and ask them to do other things.

In the morning, I let Danica try her hand at editing photos in Lightroom. She cropped and adjusted exposure and a few other things, such as clarity, for example. Meanwhile, JJ was helping Sue clean the coffee disks for recycling. Then, they did some colouring, which I choose not to participate in this time around.

In the afternoon, Sue got out the container of Easter decorations, and the kids began to help. The help didn't last long, however, as they were dressing up comically, clowning around, and making long videos after I had taken the following pictures,

Sixty Cents

I came across this post from a nephew-in-law (is there such a thing?) on Facebook: "Hate to sound old but I remember when you could buy lunch for $5." This is the kind to thing that gets a 70 year old thinking ...

Just last week when the ladies were out and it was mid-afternoon and I hadn't yet had lunch, I treated myself to lunch at A&W. I was hungry, so I ordered onion rings to add to the combo of burger, fries and soft drink. Along with our 13% tax, it came to almost $15. Shocked was I.

So, yes, while this nephew is beginning to feel old, imagine how old I feel because ...

... because back in high school, a friend and I would occasionally treat ourselves to lunch at a nearby restaurant. We'd get a hot beef sandwich, with fries and peas for 60¢. Oh yeah, you read that right.

Did you get that?!!

Of course, a coke would have added another 10-15¢. Shocking, I know. We did without anyway but often bought one after school.

This brings to mind the time when Sue and I went grocery shopping early in our marriage in 1969. For some reason the price of bread, whatever it was at the time, got me thinking of how I used to pay 20¢ a few years previously.

So, I did a little inflation calculation in my head and told Sue that we'd someday be paying more than $1 for a loaf. She didn't believe me. Now, the bread that I typically buy can cost $3.99, which is really $4 doncha know.

More items are coming to mind as I roll on this topic. A different friend and I went to a greasy spoon on rare occasions in the 50s. A burger there was 15¢.

A favourite and relatively inexpensive lunch or dinner out for Sue and me has been Swiss Chalet where they serve rotisserie chicken. Last week, lunch cost almost $40 and that was on a special. Although I can't remember the exact amount, I think dinner for 2 cost not much more than $6 in 1970.

Of course, this makes me feel really ancient because to kids today it would seem like that must have been 200 years ago. I used to feel that when my father would tell me how he would get a made-to-measure suit at Tip Top Tailors for $10 in the 1920s.

Going back to the original Facebook comment, one of my nephews commenters said that she now paid $5 for bottled water. I hope it's one heckuva big bottle, for except in rare circumstances, like you're out and thirsty, I think buying bottled water is just nuts. 

A Championship Treat

I know that there's been quite a lot of hockey on this blog. JJ plays a lot, and Danica also had a go at the game in the First Shift program. And, of course, there was flag bearer night at the Jr A game.

But we were given tickets to the Canadian Women's League game, and so we went on Sunday. Expecting a regular league game, I was totally surprised that we were there to witness the final championship game between Montreal and Calgary. Since I am a fan of the men's Montreal team, of course, I cheered for the women's team too.

I only brought the little camera, but I still took many photos. I also took some videos,but when I uploaded them, I found that I wasn't even interested enough to even bother looking at the video clips.

We got there early, and I roamed around and took a few pictures.

The view from one end ↑ . Sue waves for the camera ↓ .

The teams warm up.

They have a little huddle before the puck drops.

It was a close game. Montreal led 2-0 until Calgary scored with 7 minutes remaining.

Calgary pulled their goalie for an extra attacker with about two minutes left, but Montreal scored into the empty net and were soon celebrating victory in a hard fought game.

The funny thing to me was that the gals were soon doing their hair. I think you can see 6 of them working on their hair; others are already done.

A wonderful thing about hockey is the post game handshake. It's after every game for the kids, but only after tournaments and playoff rounds for the adults. Still, I love it. Teams can pound each other for seven games, but when it is over, they look each other in the eye, shake hands, and say well done. I love it. So Canadian.

The cup is presented.

Sticks and gloves lay strewn where they fell. In most cases, they will be put away until September.

And there's always the team photo, not the formal one, but the championship one on the ice. The best one.

It was a great time. Many thanks to our benefactor who purchased a large block of tickets to support the event.

Trying to Make it Work

You may remember that I showed you this photo a week or so ago. It is from the game in which JJ was the flag-bearer.

The top photo was the concept of the team to honour a deceased fan, the idea being to pass it onto the family along with the photo of the man, Mr Hope, inserted. The idea was great, but to get the whole team in the photo, the Hope name tag became too small to read, which rather defeated the purpose.

So, while out there on the ice, I noticed the problem, and I zoomed into a section and took the second photo. Back home, I put the two together into the above collage while leaving a space to insert Mr Hope's photo.

But the team doesn't have that photo yet, so just in case they weren't able to obtain one, I wondered how could I help.

My new idea was to superimpose the zoomed-in photo over the whole team photo. I would lose some of the team, but it would still keep a sense of the whole line.

But that would leave a lot of dead space, so I made two copies of the team photo, distorted them to cover the page, and reduced the opacity to make a light background that filled the dead areas.

Whether the team likes it or uses it is one thing, but I enjoyed the thought process as well as the procedure, which took me quite some time and fiddling to work out.

The Little AC

Jonathan's hockey season is almost over. We almost perished in the ice-cold arena on Saturday in order to see his last playoff game. Missing some key players, it was a rout for the other team, but it was a good season for the boys. There was good spirit from the coaches, parents and players, and fun was had.

They will be travelling to an out-of-town tournament next weekend, but since we may not be there, I did want to get a photo of JJ with the A on his sweater. He was honoured with the Alternate Captain letter late in the season, and I needed a photo.

You see, I am often know as AC here and elsewhere on the internet, which has become the short form for Anvilcloud although most also call me John, at least some of the time.

Now JJ is also an AC, as in Alternate captain. For some reason this synchronicity delights me. I am easily pleased, it seems.

Heather's Illustrated Heritage Journal Workshop

My extremely talented sister-in-law, Heather, was in town for a week. Sue had arranged for Heather to conduct several events: four journal workshops and two book club discussions.

In case you are new or don't remember, Heather is now a published author; her novel, The Clay Girl, is in its third printing, and she is working on the sequel, with Cracked Pots being the working title.

So, it was appropriate that she meet with two local clubs that have read her book.

But, Heather is also a journaler extraordinaire. She has worked on visual journals for years, with the idea of leaving a positive heritage for her scions.

Sue assisted Heather throughout the tour, but I was only able to attend the last workshop, here in Carleton Place. I was greatly impressed, and I can tell you that the participants were too. Some have since spoken to Sue, and, days later, they can barely contain their enthusiasm.

As the group began to settle in, Heather started them off with the task of peeling paper into two. Yes, you read that right. In order to keep control the thickness of the journal, Heather peels the backs off everything that she inserts. The first three photos show some participants doing just that and enjoying themselves while at it.

She showed slides from her journals that served both to inspire and teach the practicalities.

There was much teaching, and the attendees listened in rapt and happy attention.

And there were breaks for practical activities.

The workshop was sponsored by the library and our local museum — The Carleton Place and Beckwith Heritage Museum — and the coordinator brought samples of old-time journals and some accompanying heritage photos.

Although it was a workshop about journaling, many were intrigued by Heather's story and also purchased her book.

It was a good night: a very good night.