I don't have anything to add to the heartbreaking story of the discovery of gravesite of 215 Indigenous children in Kamloops. The students had attended the residential school in Kamloops in the 20th Century; they died under the care of that school. The gravesite was an open secret, but now there's some hard-and-fast evidence to back it up, and I can't stop thinking about it.
This is a shameful part of Canada's heritage. Here's to making things better.
I appreciate today's editorial from The Globe and Mail about our rather lacklustre election results.
The federal election result on Monday has many stories to tell, but there are two that will shape the Trudeau minority government’s early days in power.
It's going to be quite the tightrope, yes, and Trudeau admitted as much today (although I can't quite find a link of the conference I heard about).
I think Trudeau's tendency to try to "play both sides" has made him somebody nobody is happy with. But I also believe he was initially elected for promises he never intended to keep, since he did not expect to win the election five years ago. I don't find him incompetent for his promises made when he expected to lose. But the whole talking-out-both-sides-of-your-mouth habit discourages me.
I tend to like minority governments. The necessity to compromise and team-up tends to work well for policy. However, I haven't seen much in Trudeau that makes me think he's a capable compromiser, nor have we seen anything like that from the main national balance-of-power party, the NDP.
I have no predictions.
My kids were here for two weeks. This week, I took them back to their home in Smithers.
I drove up on Monday:
I slept in a tent in a backyard.
We did a few things together, but the kids were mainly happy to be home. It''s good to see them so happy with their lives.
I drove back yesterday.
Now I'm pretty-much broke for the summer. I had to do some car repairs and the trips to Victoria and Smithers, so I expect to spend most of the rest of the summer in Agassiz.
But it was good, so good, to see the kidlets.
I've been having a lot of trouble thinking about things I could write about. It seems like things are going crazy in politics, in society, in various social movements, but I have nothing to add to the conversation, nothing that somebody else can't say more effectively.
How did I once have so many things to write about?
So here are some pictures I've taken recently.
At Pacific Rim National Park Reserve, August 2017.
At Pride in Vancouver, August 2017
At the Agassiz-Rosedale Bridge a couple nights ago
I wonder how long it will take before I have something to say again?
Today I spent a little time in Vancouver for the first time since late November. I had to pick up my daughters from the Airport. I parked our hideous pickup at Scott Road Station and took the SkyTrain downtown, aiming to find my way to YVR.
This was easy to do because I like walking.
And when you really like something, it's hard to see why people think it's so weird. My students in Hope laughed at me when I'd walk the five blocks to downtown Hope for groceries; my fellow teachers raised an eyebrow when I told them that I regularly walked five kilometers from my home to the Mall of Arabia in 6 October City; when I told party-goers last weekend that I walked an hour and 10 minutes to the party, they looked at me like I must be hiding something. But I'm not. I enjoy my walking time. I really do.
But back to my story. I made it downtown and meandered a little.
And I got back on the SkyTrain to YVR. When I met my daughters and mother-in-law at Arrivals, they wanted to go get some food with some other in-law members of the family. They chose the Cactus Club in Richmond. They didn't have room in their car, so they offered to send someone else to come out and pick me up. And I said "No." I wanted to ride the SkyTrain and walk.
And by the time I was finished my SkyTrain ride to Richmond, which only took 20 minutes or so, I'd written this rant:
I'm the #WalkingSnob. Unless #WalkSnob is better. How would I know?
I don't know how to hashtag.
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