Ridiculously Late
But I don't like to leave stories half-finished. My cryptic remarks concerning food in my last Chicago-related post related to the gargantuan meal we ate at a place called Gibson's Steak House. We spent the day in the southern stretch of downtown, in an area known as "the Loop". Our afternoon included a trip up to the top of the Sears Tower for a view of... well, not a heck of alot thanks to the cloudy conditions, and a walk along the banks of the Chicago River. Nesrine also managed to find a pair of shoes in an outlet store for ten bucks --pretty fantastic, when you consider her intro to the Chicago shopping experience on our first day.
That night, we caught a show at the famed Second City. that's the place that has been spewing comedians onto the cultural landscape of America for decades, and I have no doubt that some of the young talent we saw that night will go on to big careers in TV and movies. It really is a remarkable institution; almost like Grad school for people with a comedy vocation. After that, we ended up at a Restaurant called Gibson's Steakhouse. Apparently, alot of big stars visit the place --a legion of photos featuring smiling celeb faces greet the visitor on the staircase to the second floor. Although we were famished after a long day of walking everywhere, neither of us was prepared for the Gibson's experience. The smallest steak on the menu would have fed both of us easily, with enough left over for lunch the next day. Nevertheless, we did our best. It might not have been so bad, had we not foolishly ordered the potato side dish: Evidently the result of some genetic research into breeding spuds that will feed entire neighbourhoods in one sitting-- Served on a full size dinner plate, it looked like a mutant football oozing with cheese.
We had just barely made it through the meal and I was in the process of unbuttoning my pants when our server, a really cool fast-talking cat who bore a passing resemblance to Don Cheadle, brought us a slice of apple pie a la mode on the house. We had told him we had just gotten married, and this was his way of punishing us for our happiness, I guess. In all seriousness, the pie was delicious, but it only came in one size: "Chicago" --meaning a single one-piece serving was basically the size of your standard hubcap. To make matters worse, the table next to us sent a piece of cake over with their congratulations. Even though it was only a sliver off of the piece they had ordered to share, I couldn't have finished it in a million years. 6 inches high, It towered over us, looming threateningly. After a few bites, we surrendered, paid our bill, and waddled out of the restaurant.
The next morning, we hit the jazz festival in Grant Park, and got to check out some live jazz, as well as of the marching bands from a number of Chicagoland high schools. This was possibly the coolest experience of the whole trip. Like nothing I have ever seen. I'll try to post some pictures when I get a chance. We left Chicago late on Saturday afternoon after 3 hectic fun-filled days. Definitely a destination I can see myself visiting again some day.
So that's our trip to Chicago... and it only took me a month to get it up on my blog... Timely! Next week, maybe I'll write about my high school graduation, or the time I fell off my bike when I was eleven.
Sheesh!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Monday, September 18, 2006
It's The End Of The World As We Know It And I Feel Fine
Attention Leftists: I drug this here out of some dustbin out back marked "history"! This guy had it all wrong. And, as you'll eventually realize, you have it wrong too.
In March of this year of 1919, an international congress of Communists was held in Moscow. This congress founded the Third, Communist International, an association of the workers of the whole world who are striving to establish Soviet power in all countries. The First International, founded by Marx, existed from 1864 to 1872. The defeat of the heroic workers of Paris-of the celebrated Paris Commune-marked the end of this International. It is unforgettable, it will remain for ever in the history
of the workers' struggle for their emancipation. It laid the foundation of that
edifice of the world socialist republic which it is now our good fortune to be
building. The Second International existed from 1889 to 1914, up to the war. This was the period of the most calm and peaceful development of capitalism, a period without great revolutions. During this period the working-class movement gained strength and matured in a number of countries. But the workers' leaders in most of the parties had become accustomed to peaceful conditions and had lost the ability to wage a revolutionary struggle. When, in 1914, there began the war, that drenched the earth with blood for four years, the war between the capitalists over the division of profits, the war for supremacy over small arid weak nations, these leaders deserted to the side of their respective governments. They betrayed the workers, they helped to prolong the slaughter, they became enemies of socialism, they went over to the side of the capitalists. The masses of workers turned their backs on these traitors to socialism. All over the world there was a turn towards the revolutionary struggle. The war proved that capitalism was doomed. A new system is coming to take its place. The old word socialism had been desecrated by the traitors to socialism. Today, the workers who have remained loyal to the cause of throwing off the yoke of capital call themselves Communists. All over the world the association of Communists is growing. In a number of countries Soviet power has already triumphed. Soon we shall see the victory of communism throughout the world; we shall see the foundation of the World Federative Republic of Soviets.
Lenin
*****
One of the scariest pieces of fiction I've read
*****
Anyone who has spent any amount of time around Newfoundlanders... particularly Newfoundlanders who are feeling at ease after a couple of beers should dig This Ad. God love the Newfies.
*****
Here's an idea... why doesn't the CBC start acting like a real public TV channel? I for one, can't to see Evan Solomon hosting a monthly pledge drive!
*****
A little context, please. What he actually said: Benedict at Regensburg
Bunting is getting a scourging from Guardian readers
Money quote from the Guardian message boards:
Islam is such a peaceable religion, why can?t I find the Byzantine Empire on a
map any more?
I thought it was funny... silly, but funny.
I found an interesting tidbit on a wikipedia article on the Byzantine Empire:
Why Western Civilization owes the Shiites:
During Constans' reign the Byzantines completely withdrew from Egypt, and the Arabs launched numerous attacks on the islands of the Mediterranean Sea and Aegean Sea. Constans sent a fleet to attack the Arabs at Finike in 655, but was defeated: 500 Byzantine ships were destroyed in the battle, and the emperor himself came close to being killed. Only a civil war with the Shiites prevented an Arab plan to attack Constantinople.
As a result, the Empire was saved, and it would take another 800 years for the muslims to conquer the City of Constantine.
*****
Take a Trip Through Hell!
*****
Like, just breathe, man!
Attention Leftists: I drug this here out of some dustbin out back marked "history"! This guy had it all wrong. And, as you'll eventually realize, you have it wrong too.
In March of this year of 1919, an international congress of Communists was held in Moscow. This congress founded the Third, Communist International, an association of the workers of the whole world who are striving to establish Soviet power in all countries. The First International, founded by Marx, existed from 1864 to 1872. The defeat of the heroic workers of Paris-of the celebrated Paris Commune-marked the end of this International. It is unforgettable, it will remain for ever in the history
of the workers' struggle for their emancipation. It laid the foundation of that
edifice of the world socialist republic which it is now our good fortune to be
building. The Second International existed from 1889 to 1914, up to the war. This was the period of the most calm and peaceful development of capitalism, a period without great revolutions. During this period the working-class movement gained strength and matured in a number of countries. But the workers' leaders in most of the parties had become accustomed to peaceful conditions and had lost the ability to wage a revolutionary struggle. When, in 1914, there began the war, that drenched the earth with blood for four years, the war between the capitalists over the division of profits, the war for supremacy over small arid weak nations, these leaders deserted to the side of their respective governments. They betrayed the workers, they helped to prolong the slaughter, they became enemies of socialism, they went over to the side of the capitalists. The masses of workers turned their backs on these traitors to socialism. All over the world there was a turn towards the revolutionary struggle. The war proved that capitalism was doomed. A new system is coming to take its place. The old word socialism had been desecrated by the traitors to socialism. Today, the workers who have remained loyal to the cause of throwing off the yoke of capital call themselves Communists. All over the world the association of Communists is growing. In a number of countries Soviet power has already triumphed. Soon we shall see the victory of communism throughout the world; we shall see the foundation of the World Federative Republic of Soviets.
Lenin
*****
One of the scariest pieces of fiction I've read
*****
Anyone who has spent any amount of time around Newfoundlanders... particularly Newfoundlanders who are feeling at ease after a couple of beers should dig This Ad. God love the Newfies.
*****
Here's an idea... why doesn't the CBC start acting like a real public TV channel? I for one, can't to see Evan Solomon hosting a monthly pledge drive!
*****
A little context, please. What he actually said: Benedict at Regensburg
Bunting is getting a scourging from Guardian readers
Money quote from the Guardian message boards:
Islam is such a peaceable religion, why can?t I find the Byzantine Empire on a
map any more?
I thought it was funny... silly, but funny.
I found an interesting tidbit on a wikipedia article on the Byzantine Empire:
Why Western Civilization owes the Shiites:
During Constans' reign the Byzantines completely withdrew from Egypt, and the Arabs launched numerous attacks on the islands of the Mediterranean Sea and Aegean Sea. Constans sent a fleet to attack the Arabs at Finike in 655, but was defeated: 500 Byzantine ships were destroyed in the battle, and the emperor himself came close to being killed. Only a civil war with the Shiites prevented an Arab plan to attack Constantinople.
As a result, the Empire was saved, and it would take another 800 years for the muslims to conquer the City of Constantine.
*****
Take a Trip Through Hell!
*****
Like, just breathe, man!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Ellard, you foooool!
I guess I ain't quite got the hang of this here internet-machine...
I enabled "moderate comments" a while back and have never bothered to check my comments since then.
For anyone who suspected that I'm a fascist that is trying to stifle opinions that do not reflect my own on my little piece of blog real state... well, your suspicions have been confirmed!
Nevertheless, I'll check the comments from now on, and post everything but spam.
I guess I ain't quite got the hang of this here internet-machine...
I enabled "moderate comments" a while back and have never bothered to check my comments since then.
For anyone who suspected that I'm a fascist that is trying to stifle opinions that do not reflect my own on my little piece of blog real state... well, your suspicions have been confirmed!
Nevertheless, I'll check the comments from now on, and post everything but spam.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Chicago: Post numero quatre
On Thursday morning, I got up early and took a walk down to Navy Pier. Although it looked like a fun place to spend a bit of time, I didn't linger there long. I hadn't come all the way to Chicago to visit amusement parks, but rather, to accompany my new bride on her shopping trip (he wrote sarcastically). We spent that afternoon walking up the Magnificent Mile, which is the stretch of Michigan Ave. north of the Chicago river where one finds Saks 5th Ave, Ralph Lauren, Bloomingdales, and all the other big American chain stores that Nesrine and I could not afford. In spite of not being able to purchase anything, we still had a blast checking out the sites:
The Chicago Tribune
Looking for Bloomingdale's
Eventually we ended up stopping for lunch at a great Italian Restaurant on Rush Street.
Finally, after an exhausting afternoon of walking all over downtown, we headed back to the hotel to rest a bit before heading out for supper. One of the "must do" things on my list was to try the city's famous deep dish pizza and I had scouted out a restaurant on our way into the city for that very purpose. It was a pretty garish looking place on Ohio street, but I was encouraged by it's bold claim of being the "birthplace" of Chicago-style pizza. Our server advised us to get the small, but looking at the puny diameter of the pieplate that the staff had helpfully traced onto a poster and measuring my now considerable appetite, I scoffed at the very idea. We ordered a medium, and because we were told the pizza would take up to an hour to prepare, we got some cheezesticks to tide us over. Big mistake.
Forty minutes later, the pie arrived. I immediately understood why they called it a "pizza-pie" in those parts. More quiche-on steroids that pizza, it was three-inch deep concoction of mounds of cheeze, sauce and toppings in a real honest-to-goodness pie crust (yup, the kind made with shortening that Mom uses for apple and rhubarb pie). On top of that the crust was extra-thick. I balked, considering the irreparable damage I was about to do to my arteries. Nesrine looked revolted. Nevertheless, we tucked in, and an hour later, we staggered out of that restaurant/gastrointestinal-torture-chamber with aching bellies, having demolished barely half a piece each. We were anxious to put the ordeal behind us. My left arm began to ache on the way back to the hotel. In it, I cradled the remains of our pizza, approximately two-thirds of which was in pristine condition. The greasy cardboard box containing the leftovers of our meal weighed approximately twenty pounds. Nesrine eyed me curiously. "Wait til the old man tries a piece of this!" I said sadistically.
As it turned out, that was only a prelude to Friday's culinary adventures...
On Thursday morning, I got up early and took a walk down to Navy Pier. Although it looked like a fun place to spend a bit of time, I didn't linger there long. I hadn't come all the way to Chicago to visit amusement parks, but rather, to accompany my new bride on her shopping trip (he wrote sarcastically). We spent that afternoon walking up the Magnificent Mile, which is the stretch of Michigan Ave. north of the Chicago river where one finds Saks 5th Ave, Ralph Lauren, Bloomingdales, and all the other big American chain stores that Nesrine and I could not afford. In spite of not being able to purchase anything, we still had a blast checking out the sites:
The Chicago Tribune
Looking for Bloomingdale'sEventually we ended up stopping for lunch at a great Italian Restaurant on Rush Street.
Finally, after an exhausting afternoon of walking all over downtown, we headed back to the hotel to rest a bit before heading out for supper. One of the "must do" things on my list was to try the city's famous deep dish pizza and I had scouted out a restaurant on our way into the city for that very purpose. It was a pretty garish looking place on Ohio street, but I was encouraged by it's bold claim of being the "birthplace" of Chicago-style pizza. Our server advised us to get the small, but looking at the puny diameter of the pieplate that the staff had helpfully traced onto a poster and measuring my now considerable appetite, I scoffed at the very idea. We ordered a medium, and because we were told the pizza would take up to an hour to prepare, we got some cheezesticks to tide us over. Big mistake.
Forty minutes later, the pie arrived. I immediately understood why they called it a "pizza-pie" in those parts. More quiche-on steroids that pizza, it was three-inch deep concoction of mounds of cheeze, sauce and toppings in a real honest-to-goodness pie crust (yup, the kind made with shortening that Mom uses for apple and rhubarb pie). On top of that the crust was extra-thick. I balked, considering the irreparable damage I was about to do to my arteries. Nesrine looked revolted. Nevertheless, we tucked in, and an hour later, we staggered out of that restaurant/gastrointestinal-torture-chamber with aching bellies, having demolished barely half a piece each. We were anxious to put the ordeal behind us. My left arm began to ache on the way back to the hotel. In it, I cradled the remains of our pizza, approximately two-thirds of which was in pristine condition. The greasy cardboard box containing the leftovers of our meal weighed approximately twenty pounds. Nesrine eyed me curiously. "Wait til the old man tries a piece of this!" I said sadistically.
As it turned out, that was only a prelude to Friday's culinary adventures...
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Chicago, Part III
The city of Chicago leaves the first-time visitor with a peculiar impression, if they enter the city by car. The closer one gets to Michigan Avenue and the Chicago river, the more one gets the impression that the city is set up on a vertical plane, rather than a horizontal one. The tall spires of the Chicago's famous skyscrapers disappear as you enter the downtown area and are funelled down into the bowels of the city, where streets stack up one on top of the other in parallel arteries. Then you have the L-train, which runs a good twenty feet above street level --the city does not have a subway... something to do with the water table, or perhaps soil conditions? Above the tracks, you also may catch a glimpse of skywalks between buildings, sometimes 5 or even 6 stories above ground. So basically, there may be 4 or 5 levels of trafic at some locations in the city, not counting the river-borne traffic, each moving independently one on top of the other.
We sped through the downtown, emerging from one of the subterranean streets to crossed the river and arrived at our destination, the Chicago Sheraton, just before 8 pm. We were delighted with the hotel's location, a stone's throw from the Magnificent Mile, which promised easy access on foot to most of the sights we wanted to get to in the three days we would spend in the city. We knew it advertised itself as a "downtown hotel", but past experience in booking on the web suggested that particular description may sometimes leave some room for interpretation (my favourite qualifier is "adjacent", as in downtown-adjacent --which usually means "be prepared to walk a bit or take a cab to get downtown"). When the lady at the front desk found out that we were newlyweds, she bumped our reservation up to "club level" and put is in a room on the 34th floor, suggesting that we go to the club lounge to enjoy some complimentary hors d'oeuvres and relax. Being quite exhausted, we were more than happy to oblige, and after dropping off our luggage and taking in the incomparable view from our room, we headed to the lounge, which was deserted.
As we sat and sipped glasses of wine and munched on some finger food, we tried to think of what we should do that night. We were both knackered, and we both seemed content to just relax and take in the panorama of downtown Chicago at night. Before we knew it, it was after 9 pm, and we found ourselves staggering back to our room. Unsure of our next move. Well, as it turned out, we didn't even go out that night. We had had enough for one day, and besides, the spectacular view from our room was all the entertainment we needed.
The city of Chicago leaves the first-time visitor with a peculiar impression, if they enter the city by car. The closer one gets to Michigan Avenue and the Chicago river, the more one gets the impression that the city is set up on a vertical plane, rather than a horizontal one. The tall spires of the Chicago's famous skyscrapers disappear as you enter the downtown area and are funelled down into the bowels of the city, where streets stack up one on top of the other in parallel arteries. Then you have the L-train, which runs a good twenty feet above street level --the city does not have a subway... something to do with the water table, or perhaps soil conditions? Above the tracks, you also may catch a glimpse of skywalks between buildings, sometimes 5 or even 6 stories above ground. So basically, there may be 4 or 5 levels of trafic at some locations in the city, not counting the river-borne traffic, each moving independently one on top of the other.
We sped through the downtown, emerging from one of the subterranean streets to crossed the river and arrived at our destination, the Chicago Sheraton, just before 8 pm. We were delighted with the hotel's location, a stone's throw from the Magnificent Mile, which promised easy access on foot to most of the sights we wanted to get to in the three days we would spend in the city. We knew it advertised itself as a "downtown hotel", but past experience in booking on the web suggested that particular description may sometimes leave some room for interpretation (my favourite qualifier is "adjacent", as in downtown-adjacent --which usually means "be prepared to walk a bit or take a cab to get downtown"). When the lady at the front desk found out that we were newlyweds, she bumped our reservation up to "club level" and put is in a room on the 34th floor, suggesting that we go to the club lounge to enjoy some complimentary hors d'oeuvres and relax. Being quite exhausted, we were more than happy to oblige, and after dropping off our luggage and taking in the incomparable view from our room, we headed to the lounge, which was deserted.
As we sat and sipped glasses of wine and munched on some finger food, we tried to think of what we should do that night. We were both knackered, and we both seemed content to just relax and take in the panorama of downtown Chicago at night. Before we knew it, it was after 9 pm, and we found ourselves staggering back to our room. Unsure of our next move. Well, as it turned out, we didn't even go out that night. We had had enough for one day, and besides, the spectacular view from our room was all the entertainment we needed.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Chicago cont'd
So last week, Nesrine and I were debating possible getaway destinations when almost out of the blue she says "Why don't we go to Chicago?". From the time I moved to T-Bay I had often considered a roadtrip to the big city by Lake Michigan with some high school chums. After all, it looked pretty close to Mineapolis on the map --probably 5 hours on the interstate, and the Twin Cities were only 7 hours from the Lakehead by car, so we couldn't be talking more than 13 hours on the road, right? Well somehow, inspite on a ringing endorsement of the idea by a classmate who had done the trip... actually, this guy here Kevin, who is now a pretty successful actor, incidentally-- the trip never materialized.
Fast forward a decade-and-a-half, the Ellard newlyweds find themselves on the far side of the Windsor-Detroit tunnel being scrutinized by a border guard, who fixes us with his blank gaze and asks where we are going. "To Chicago, on our honeymoon", I reply enthusiastically, to which he retorts "have fun", without seeming to mean it terribly. We are now free to head to Chicago, by way of the interstate south to Toledo --my old man insists that is the long way. The trip had already seen us make quick stops in Montreal to return some wedding stuff, and Mississauga, to visit Joe and Michelle's new place--nice digs, incidentally, and probably a future license to print money, if current GTA housing demand is any indication. By early afternoon Wednesday, we hit Windsor to grab lunch with Grandma and Mila before pushing on to the Motor City, just across the Detroit river.
So after an hour of rutted and filthy blown-tire-strewn highways that can only be described as disgraceful (shame on the state of Michigan), we get to the Toledo area and hop on one of those curiosities of the American landscape, the toll highway. "This is what they get for having low taxes!" I jokingly tell Nesrine as I grab a ticket from the dispenser. It seems to me that it must be an incredible nuissance to have to drive around with handfuls of change in your car for the tollbooths... but then isn't that what drivers have to do anytime they need to park downtown? I estimate that we spend about $10 total on the trip that takes us through 3 states (Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois) --not too steep. The toll roads are excellent. Superior to what we have in Ontario even. The talk-radio that I inexplicably listen to all the way through the trip, however, is almost migraine-inducing. By 8 O'clock, we are in the Chicagoland area, and as we spy the mythical skyline of Chi-town in the distance, we begin to get even more excited about our visit. Soon, we will be in the big city!
To be continued
So last week, Nesrine and I were debating possible getaway destinations when almost out of the blue she says "Why don't we go to Chicago?". From the time I moved to T-Bay I had often considered a roadtrip to the big city by Lake Michigan with some high school chums. After all, it looked pretty close to Mineapolis on the map --probably 5 hours on the interstate, and the Twin Cities were only 7 hours from the Lakehead by car, so we couldn't be talking more than 13 hours on the road, right? Well somehow, inspite on a ringing endorsement of the idea by a classmate who had done the trip... actually, this guy here Kevin, who is now a pretty successful actor, incidentally-- the trip never materialized.
Fast forward a decade-and-a-half, the Ellard newlyweds find themselves on the far side of the Windsor-Detroit tunnel being scrutinized by a border guard, who fixes us with his blank gaze and asks where we are going. "To Chicago, on our honeymoon", I reply enthusiastically, to which he retorts "have fun", without seeming to mean it terribly. We are now free to head to Chicago, by way of the interstate south to Toledo --my old man insists that is the long way. The trip had already seen us make quick stops in Montreal to return some wedding stuff, and Mississauga, to visit Joe and Michelle's new place--nice digs, incidentally, and probably a future license to print money, if current GTA housing demand is any indication. By early afternoon Wednesday, we hit Windsor to grab lunch with Grandma and Mila before pushing on to the Motor City, just across the Detroit river.
So after an hour of rutted and filthy blown-tire-strewn highways that can only be described as disgraceful (shame on the state of Michigan), we get to the Toledo area and hop on one of those curiosities of the American landscape, the toll highway. "This is what they get for having low taxes!" I jokingly tell Nesrine as I grab a ticket from the dispenser. It seems to me that it must be an incredible nuissance to have to drive around with handfuls of change in your car for the tollbooths... but then isn't that what drivers have to do anytime they need to park downtown? I estimate that we spend about $10 total on the trip that takes us through 3 states (Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois) --not too steep. The toll roads are excellent. Superior to what we have in Ontario even. The talk-radio that I inexplicably listen to all the way through the trip, however, is almost migraine-inducing. By 8 O'clock, we are in the Chicagoland area, and as we spy the mythical skyline of Chi-town in the distance, we begin to get even more excited about our visit. Soon, we will be in the big city!
To be continued
Monday, September 04, 2006
Chicago
After a week of prevaricating, my new wife and I decided to head to the Windy City for a post-wedding getaway --we figure the real honeymoon will be the next trip we take, when we are less broke.
What can I say about Chicago? It exceeded all expectations. Detroit, my only point of reference for a Northern U.S. industrial city, had left me wholly unprepared for the experience of visiting the "City with Big Shoulders". Detroit and Chicago are as different as night and day. Of course, I must admit that I had done very little pre-trip research on Chi-town, so aside from the usual cliches about gangsters, sports teams, and deep-dish pizza, I really had no idea what to expect.
Nesrine's first impression was that being in Chicago was like being on a movie set. I agree entirely. Chicago feels like the prototypical American metropolis, the one we conjure up in our mind when we are asked to picture a big American city. From the gleaming skyscrapers to the L-train to the port and river teeming with watercraft of every shape and description, it is the very image of a vigourous urban centre. Whereas Detroit's decrepit downtown is sometimes nearly deserted, Chicago feels alive 24-7. With crowds on every street and traffic that speeds beneath its skyscrapers at all hours of the day, it pulsates and throbs with life.
Here are some photos from our little trip:
The view from our room at the Sheraton, on the 34th floor:
Another view:
The Magnificent Mile
More to come!
After a week of prevaricating, my new wife and I decided to head to the Windy City for a post-wedding getaway --we figure the real honeymoon will be the next trip we take, when we are less broke.
What can I say about Chicago? It exceeded all expectations. Detroit, my only point of reference for a Northern U.S. industrial city, had left me wholly unprepared for the experience of visiting the "City with Big Shoulders". Detroit and Chicago are as different as night and day. Of course, I must admit that I had done very little pre-trip research on Chi-town, so aside from the usual cliches about gangsters, sports teams, and deep-dish pizza, I really had no idea what to expect.
Nesrine's first impression was that being in Chicago was like being on a movie set. I agree entirely. Chicago feels like the prototypical American metropolis, the one we conjure up in our mind when we are asked to picture a big American city. From the gleaming skyscrapers to the L-train to the port and river teeming with watercraft of every shape and description, it is the very image of a vigourous urban centre. Whereas Detroit's decrepit downtown is sometimes nearly deserted, Chicago feels alive 24-7. With crowds on every street and traffic that speeds beneath its skyscrapers at all hours of the day, it pulsates and throbs with life.
Here are some photos from our little trip:
The view from our room at the Sheraton, on the 34th floor:
Another view:
The Magnificent Mile
More to come!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
First Pics of the Wedding
Courtesy of Paul, the Best Man.
Backstage: T-minus two minutes
Awaiting the Bride
Stunned After the Ceremony
Groom and His Boys
With Best Man's Family
(What was I doing with my mouth?)
More to come, folks!
Courtesy of Paul, the Best Man.
Backstage: T-minus two minutes
Awaiting the Bride
Stunned After the Ceremony
Groom and His Boys
With Best Man's Family(What was I doing with my mouth?)
More to come, folks!
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Wedding Day
Nesrine, I love you.
Then Almitra spoke again and said...
"And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:
You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together
when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together
even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea
between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.
Khalil Gibran
From the Book: The Prophet
Nesrine, I love you.
Then Almitra spoke again and said...
"And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:
You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together
when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together
even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea
between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.
Khalil Gibran
From the Book: The Prophet
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Two Weeks to go...
The wedding is fast approaching, and planning continues apace. We have not reached the "frantic" stage, but we are getting there in leaps and bounds. There are so many details that must be attended to. The cake, the photographer, the hall, the seating arrangements, and so on. Mom will be coming down next Sunday to help us with the last sprint to the finish line, and thank the Lord, because Nesrine and I have noticed we are flagging. It is not that we aren't receiving plenty of offers of assistance from family and friends, far from it. I would say it has to do with our respective personalities: we are both quite independent, and hopelessly particular about certain things. For me, it's the photos. We went all out and splurged on this studio because, I reasoned, if the photos of the day aren't up to snuff, years from now, we'll regret that our abiding memories of the day are not really captured on film. I'm big on nice photography, particularly the photojournalistic style that Photolux uses. I have seen too many banal pictures featuring contrived poses and questionable composition to put my faith in some well-meaning dilletante.
For her part, Nesrine is rightfully focusing on her dress, the decorations, and of course, family. The Harbs are legion in these parts, so the guest list is rapidly approaching the 130 mark, a scant three dozen of which will be guests from my side. Make no mistake, this will be a Lebanese-Canadian wedding, and I couldn't be happier... have you tasted Lebanese cuisine before?
Although I have not been exploring the uplands of the internet much lately, I have happened across a few tasty morsels for your enjoyment:
I wonder if Bruno, will make a Cameo in the upcoming Borat movie.... God, I hope so.
The Internet is a Series of Tubes and Senator Ted Stevens is douche
I'm gonna go ahead and refer you this soundboard, MMMM-KAY?
The wedding is fast approaching, and planning continues apace. We have not reached the "frantic" stage, but we are getting there in leaps and bounds. There are so many details that must be attended to. The cake, the photographer, the hall, the seating arrangements, and so on. Mom will be coming down next Sunday to help us with the last sprint to the finish line, and thank the Lord, because Nesrine and I have noticed we are flagging. It is not that we aren't receiving plenty of offers of assistance from family and friends, far from it. I would say it has to do with our respective personalities: we are both quite independent, and hopelessly particular about certain things. For me, it's the photos. We went all out and splurged on this studio because, I reasoned, if the photos of the day aren't up to snuff, years from now, we'll regret that our abiding memories of the day are not really captured on film. I'm big on nice photography, particularly the photojournalistic style that Photolux uses. I have seen too many banal pictures featuring contrived poses and questionable composition to put my faith in some well-meaning dilletante.
For her part, Nesrine is rightfully focusing on her dress, the decorations, and of course, family. The Harbs are legion in these parts, so the guest list is rapidly approaching the 130 mark, a scant three dozen of which will be guests from my side. Make no mistake, this will be a Lebanese-Canadian wedding, and I couldn't be happier... have you tasted Lebanese cuisine before?
Although I have not been exploring the uplands of the internet much lately, I have happened across a few tasty morsels for your enjoyment:
I wonder if Bruno, will make a Cameo in the upcoming Borat movie.... God, I hope so.
The Internet is a Series of Tubes and Senator Ted Stevens is douche
I'm gonna go ahead and refer you this soundboard, MMMM-KAY?
Friday, August 04, 2006
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Guess who is destined to be spit out of the bottom of the entertainment industry a few short years from now?
You gotta see it coming, no? So, instead of making excuses, the least a mother can do is give her child some discipline.. or at least keep her kid on a tighter leash while she is riding high and milk every moment of stardom for what it is worth.. cuz it won't last... at least not if history teaches us anything.
Ask these folks
You gotta see it coming, no? So, instead of making excuses, the least a mother can do is give her child some discipline.. or at least keep her kid on a tighter leash while she is riding high and milk every moment of stardom for what it is worth.. cuz it won't last... at least not if history teaches us anything.
Ask these folks
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Wa Wa Wee Wah!
Get ready for Borat hand pleasure sexy time explosion!
Movie of title Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan 2006 in Autumn!
Trailer Watch!
Saturday, July 22, 2006
The Levant in Flames
If Belgium was historically the Cockpit of Europe, then Lebanon must be the cockpit of the Middle East.
While some bitch and moan about how the Canadian Government has not done enough to extricate them from a country that they chose to travel to of their own accord, other resourceful folks are doing whatever it takes to hightail it out of the Lebanon: Greasing palms in Syria
A prayer, not just for peace, but for resolution, and lasting peace.
If Belgium was historically the Cockpit of Europe, then Lebanon must be the cockpit of the Middle East.
While some bitch and moan about how the Canadian Government has not done enough to extricate them from a country that they chose to travel to of their own accord, other resourceful folks are doing whatever it takes to hightail it out of the Lebanon: Greasing palms in Syria
A prayer, not just for peace, but for resolution, and lasting peace.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Bush and Blair: Caught on Tape!
They didn't know they were being recorded at the G-8... so this is how it is!
Bush: What about Kofi Annan? I don't like the sequence of it. His attitude is basically cease-fire and everything else happens.
Blair: I think the thing that is really difficult is you cant stop this unless you get this international presence agreed.
Bush: She's going. I think Condi's going to go pretty soon.
Blair: Well that's all that matters. If you see, it will take some time to get out of there. But at least it gives people ...
Bush: It's a process I agree. I told her your offer too.
Blair: Well it's only or if she's gonna or if she needs the ground prepared as it were. See, if she goes out she's got to succeed as it were, where as I can just go out and talk.
Bush: See the irony is what they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over.
Blair: Cause I think this is all part of the same thing. What does he think? He thinks if Lebanon turns out fine, if he gets a solution in Israel and Palestine, Iraq goes in the right way, he's done it. That's what this whole things about. It's the same with Iran.
Bush: I feel like telling Kofi to get on the phone with Assad and make something happen. We're not blaming Israel and we're not blaming the Lebanese government.
Blair: How you enjoying your lunch?
Bush: It's fine. Now, let's go destroy Lebanon to give Israel the land!
Blair: Great idea! I feel like doing something evil today.
Bush: Cuz you're my poodle, Blair
Blair: Yes
Bush: I mean, I own your British Ass
Blair: Right!
Bush: eheheeehhehehehe (Chimpy McHitlerburton does his shaky-shoulder monkey-laugh)
They didn't know they were being recorded at the G-8... so this is how it is!
Bush: What about Kofi Annan? I don't like the sequence of it. His attitude is basically cease-fire and everything else happens.
Blair: I think the thing that is really difficult is you cant stop this unless you get this international presence agreed.
Bush: She's going. I think Condi's going to go pretty soon.
Blair: Well that's all that matters. If you see, it will take some time to get out of there. But at least it gives people ...
Bush: It's a process I agree. I told her your offer too.
Blair: Well it's only or if she's gonna or if she needs the ground prepared as it were. See, if she goes out she's got to succeed as it were, where as I can just go out and talk.
Bush: See the irony is what they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over.
Blair: Cause I think this is all part of the same thing. What does he think? He thinks if Lebanon turns out fine, if he gets a solution in Israel and Palestine, Iraq goes in the right way, he's done it. That's what this whole things about. It's the same with Iran.
Bush: I feel like telling Kofi to get on the phone with Assad and make something happen. We're not blaming Israel and we're not blaming the Lebanese government.
Blair: How you enjoying your lunch?
Bush: It's fine. Now, let's go destroy Lebanon to give Israel the land!
Blair: Great idea! I feel like doing something evil today.
Bush: Cuz you're my poodle, Blair
Blair: Yes
Bush: I mean, I own your British Ass
Blair: Right!
Bush: eheheeehhehehehe (Chimpy McHitlerburton does his shaky-shoulder monkey-laugh)
Sunday, July 16, 2006
August 20 may be Wedding Day...
but August 18 is Snakes On A Plane Day
I read this comment on a movie geek message board:
..."the movie that Jesus himself would come back for. God, I can't wait until
Aug 18th"
That just says it all, doesn't it?
but August 18 is Snakes On A Plane Day
I read this comment on a movie geek message board:
..."the movie that Jesus himself would come back for. God, I can't wait until
Aug 18th"
That just says it all, doesn't it?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Grief, Part II
Christie Blatchford gets to the crux of the matter in today's despatch from Afghanistan:
The truth is that civilian Canada, increasingly disengaged from its military over decades of base closing, budget cuts and feel-good peacekeeping missions, was not prepared for either this place or this task.
It has been a very long time indeed since the CF have been involved at a battalion level in such ferocious combat, and the last time it happened, it was not in an instant-messaging, blogging world with TV cameras on the front lines capturing the heat and brutality and terrible power of war.
Christie Blatchford gets to the crux of the matter in today's despatch from Afghanistan:
The truth is that civilian Canada, increasingly disengaged from its military over decades of base closing, budget cuts and feel-good peacekeeping missions, was not prepared for either this place or this task.
It has been a very long time indeed since the CF have been involved at a battalion level in such ferocious combat, and the last time it happened, it was not in an instant-messaging, blogging world with TV cameras on the front lines capturing the heat and brutality and terrible power of war.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Grief Can Be An Ugly Thing
I feel sick. I feel sick with sorrow over the death of a young soldier, a promising life cut short; but I am also feeling a bit sickened by what I have seen in the media today.
The repulsive media vultures have descended upon the distraught family and friends of the young Corporal and created an almost pornographic spectacle of their pain. In interview after interview, these well-meaning but clearly grief-stricken people have laid bare the young man's most intimate thoughts and feelings on what he may or may not have felt about what he was doing in Afghanistan. Surely, the private doubts and gripes in the phonecalls and letters home were meant for their consumption alone, and not designed to be unfolded before the eyes of a nation.
We are told that Corporal Boneca hated going out on combat patrol. He was haggard, lean, burnt out and worn out. He was also disillusioned with the mission, aparently. What infantry soldier currently deployed in Afghanistan relishes the prospect of life-threatening danger? What infanteer would not be exhausted from days of combat? Who among the over two thousand CF members there has not unburdened themselves to friends and family, trusting that these private thoughts and fears would be kept in some secret, sacred place? Who among them has not even felt some frustration over what must be a long and tortured process of fighting medieval zealots and bringing stability to a basket-case of a country. This is NEWS?
I turn with dismay to the Globe and Mail and see that a comment thread is hijacked by vicious assholes wielding conspiracy theories, revisionist history, and fifth-rate intellects
It is left to Sheldon Maerz --a PPCLI Captain currently stationed in Kandahar with whom I had the honour to serve while he was posted to the LLSR -- to set the record straight:
Sheldon Maerz from Kandahar City, Canada writes: To post number 39 - Bill, you were bang on until you attacked the memory of Lestor B Pearson, himself a veteran of the Great War, and someone who worked tirelessly in the years following for the betterment of Canada. But, given you are one of the view voices of logic on here, I can forgive your attack on a Great Canadian for the most part (as if it is my place to forgive you, but I trust you will know what I mean).To all you who know next to nothing of our past, Bill is completely correct - we are a nation forged in the fires of war, and when called up by world events, Canadians have fought valiantly on the fields of battle like no others. Perhaps if more Canadians knew something of their own history, there would be fewer spewing the dual false sentiments that we are only a 'peacekeeping nation' and that we are currently fighting someone else's war. Canada has every reason to be here, it is in our own self interest as a nation to assist the Afghan people secure a more stable, more peaceful future. No one here believes Afghanistan will ever resemble Canada or any other western Democracy but we must do our part to attempt to ensure it never again becomes a incubator of hatred of things Western. The biggest falsehood being perpetuated by those against our role here is that the Afghan people don't want us here. The truth is the vast majority of them see us as their best chance in the last thirty years for something other than repression, insecurity and death. Finally, please stop all the parallels to the Soviet Occupation - we are not an Occupation Force and we are not seen as such by anyone except the forces of the Taliban, the foreign fighters, and those who are against our presence for their own self interest (narco warlords,etc). Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but pls stop the shallow name calling and before sounding off, try becoming informed.
Capt Sheldon Maerz
Try not to take it personal, Sheldon.
In our grief, let us consider the facts, and honour this brave young man as he deserves. Tony was an infantryman. He harboured no illusions of his role, notwithstanding what some may now be claiming. From minute-one that you enter the Infantry school, you are taught that your role is to close with and destroy the enemy. Period. Full stop. Yes, he was a reservist --a reservist who had undergone rigourous "work-up training" in the months preceeding his deployment. He had been screened psychologically and physically, he had been counseled, he had been warned and admonished. He was no stranger to Afghanistan, having served there on a previous tour. He went in with both eyes open. To say otherwise is to hold that he was incabable of understanding what he was getting into, to in effect infantilize the man (not boy, but man --He was twenty-one).
In their zealous quest for an "angle", some journalists are pissing all over this young guy's memory. They would paint a false picture of a frightened and disillusioned reservist, unable to cope: What a story, chief! Government sending untrained child-conscripts to a warzone and keeping them there against their will!
For my part, all things being equal and taking Sheldon at his word (who is there ON THE GROUND, mind you) I'm inclined to believe the words of the young man's father:
OTTAWA (CP) - The father of the soldier killed in Afghanistan earlier this week denies his son was ill-prepared for his dangerous tour-of-duty, contradicting claims from some of the soldier's friends. Cpl. Anthony Boneca's father Antonio said his son "loved being in the army" and was aware of the situation he was facing. "In all my conversations with my son, there was never any mention of him not being well enough or fit enough to carry out his military duties," Boneca's father said.
"He said it was difficult to cope with the weather, the sand, and the situation the young children endured (but) he was proud to make a difference in their lives and said he wished these children could live like we do in Canada." Boneca's father disputed reports that suggested his son felt he was poorly prepared for his second stint in Afghanistan.
Shame on the media for this spectacle. Keep them the fuck away from the repatriation. They would dishonour its solemnity it by their presence.
****
I exclude from my scorn one journalist in particular. Christie Blatchford. She really is something else. Like Sheldon Maerz, she is currently on the ground in Afghanistan, "embedded", as they say, and reportign for the G&M. Check out her reporting on their Web site --it is worth a read. She did a little Q&A today from Kandaharand I loved the way she puts this pompous prick in his place:
Liam Dynes, Toronto/Thunder Bay, Ont.: To embed or not to embed reporters in a war zone is no longer the issue - as some previous commenters have put forth. It is a given at this point. My observation comes from what is done by a reporter put in that position. I ask you whether you truly see more value in your method of[reporting on what you see as an embed] than in a clear reporting of the facts at hand. We see cursory mentions of these soldiers in deteriorating physical condition and of questionable morale, but we see no examination of actual situation versus government spin - Minister O'Connor yesterday, for example. You mention in your first [answer today to Mr. Sheppard's question]that "most" of the men are in good spirits. What about the rest? Are those in good spirits regular army? Is there any correlation between morale and reserve status? We hear nothing about Cpl. Boneca's apparent disillusionment with his situation from those who would be there to hear it and see it firsthand, get no reporting of the conditions that led to it (an injured ankle that took more than a week to be treated, patrols extending themselves more than two weeks beyond their scheduled length and capacity for food and water). But we get plenty of literary examination of the pathetic fallacy of the Afghan countryside and its leporidaeic inhabitants (bunnies). Suffice to say, I'm a little perplexed. What is the reality over there?
Christie Blatchford: Thank you for explaining leporidaeic for me. Clearly you're very smart.
Look, I don't pretend to know the morale or state of mind of all our soldiers here, but I've met and spent time and watched in close quarters now hundreds of them, and interviewed dozens at length. You've heard nothing about Cpl. Boneca's apparent disillusionment from me, or anyone else here, because, in my case, I was in the middle of a firefight, and because the story came from The Toronto Star, which does not have a reporter here, but who interviewed the father of the young man's girlfriend.
And what government spin? I spend as little time as I can here at the safe big base, where the spin originates, when it does. Even here, I talk to actual soldiers, not the brass. I'm not writing spin, unless you consider spin to include what I see with my own eyes, from ordinary soldiers.
Thanks, Christie.
I feel sick. I feel sick with sorrow over the death of a young soldier, a promising life cut short; but I am also feeling a bit sickened by what I have seen in the media today.
The repulsive media vultures have descended upon the distraught family and friends of the young Corporal and created an almost pornographic spectacle of their pain. In interview after interview, these well-meaning but clearly grief-stricken people have laid bare the young man's most intimate thoughts and feelings on what he may or may not have felt about what he was doing in Afghanistan. Surely, the private doubts and gripes in the phonecalls and letters home were meant for their consumption alone, and not designed to be unfolded before the eyes of a nation.
We are told that Corporal Boneca hated going out on combat patrol. He was haggard, lean, burnt out and worn out. He was also disillusioned with the mission, aparently. What infantry soldier currently deployed in Afghanistan relishes the prospect of life-threatening danger? What infanteer would not be exhausted from days of combat? Who among the over two thousand CF members there has not unburdened themselves to friends and family, trusting that these private thoughts and fears would be kept in some secret, sacred place? Who among them has not even felt some frustration over what must be a long and tortured process of fighting medieval zealots and bringing stability to a basket-case of a country. This is NEWS?
I turn with dismay to the Globe and Mail and see that a comment thread is hijacked by vicious assholes wielding conspiracy theories, revisionist history, and fifth-rate intellects
It is left to Sheldon Maerz --a PPCLI Captain currently stationed in Kandahar with whom I had the honour to serve while he was posted to the LLSR -- to set the record straight:
Sheldon Maerz from Kandahar City, Canada writes: To post number 39 - Bill, you were bang on until you attacked the memory of Lestor B Pearson, himself a veteran of the Great War, and someone who worked tirelessly in the years following for the betterment of Canada. But, given you are one of the view voices of logic on here, I can forgive your attack on a Great Canadian for the most part (as if it is my place to forgive you, but I trust you will know what I mean).To all you who know next to nothing of our past, Bill is completely correct - we are a nation forged in the fires of war, and when called up by world events, Canadians have fought valiantly on the fields of battle like no others. Perhaps if more Canadians knew something of their own history, there would be fewer spewing the dual false sentiments that we are only a 'peacekeeping nation' and that we are currently fighting someone else's war. Canada has every reason to be here, it is in our own self interest as a nation to assist the Afghan people secure a more stable, more peaceful future. No one here believes Afghanistan will ever resemble Canada or any other western Democracy but we must do our part to attempt to ensure it never again becomes a incubator of hatred of things Western. The biggest falsehood being perpetuated by those against our role here is that the Afghan people don't want us here. The truth is the vast majority of them see us as their best chance in the last thirty years for something other than repression, insecurity and death. Finally, please stop all the parallels to the Soviet Occupation - we are not an Occupation Force and we are not seen as such by anyone except the forces of the Taliban, the foreign fighters, and those who are against our presence for their own self interest (narco warlords,etc). Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but pls stop the shallow name calling and before sounding off, try becoming informed.
Capt Sheldon Maerz
Try not to take it personal, Sheldon.
In our grief, let us consider the facts, and honour this brave young man as he deserves. Tony was an infantryman. He harboured no illusions of his role, notwithstanding what some may now be claiming. From minute-one that you enter the Infantry school, you are taught that your role is to close with and destroy the enemy. Period. Full stop. Yes, he was a reservist --a reservist who had undergone rigourous "work-up training" in the months preceeding his deployment. He had been screened psychologically and physically, he had been counseled, he had been warned and admonished. He was no stranger to Afghanistan, having served there on a previous tour. He went in with both eyes open. To say otherwise is to hold that he was incabable of understanding what he was getting into, to in effect infantilize the man (not boy, but man --He was twenty-one).
In their zealous quest for an "angle", some journalists are pissing all over this young guy's memory. They would paint a false picture of a frightened and disillusioned reservist, unable to cope: What a story, chief! Government sending untrained child-conscripts to a warzone and keeping them there against their will!
For my part, all things being equal and taking Sheldon at his word (who is there ON THE GROUND, mind you) I'm inclined to believe the words of the young man's father:
OTTAWA (CP) - The father of the soldier killed in Afghanistan earlier this week denies his son was ill-prepared for his dangerous tour-of-duty, contradicting claims from some of the soldier's friends. Cpl. Anthony Boneca's father Antonio said his son "loved being in the army" and was aware of the situation he was facing. "In all my conversations with my son, there was never any mention of him not being well enough or fit enough to carry out his military duties," Boneca's father said.
"He said it was difficult to cope with the weather, the sand, and the situation the young children endured (but) he was proud to make a difference in their lives and said he wished these children could live like we do in Canada." Boneca's father disputed reports that suggested his son felt he was poorly prepared for his second stint in Afghanistan.
Shame on the media for this spectacle. Keep them the fuck away from the repatriation. They would dishonour its solemnity it by their presence.
****
I exclude from my scorn one journalist in particular. Christie Blatchford. She really is something else. Like Sheldon Maerz, she is currently on the ground in Afghanistan, "embedded", as they say, and reportign for the G&M. Check out her reporting on their Web site --it is worth a read. She did a little Q&A today from Kandaharand I loved the way she puts this pompous prick in his place:
Liam Dynes, Toronto/Thunder Bay, Ont.: To embed or not to embed reporters in a war zone is no longer the issue - as some previous commenters have put forth. It is a given at this point. My observation comes from what is done by a reporter put in that position. I ask you whether you truly see more value in your method of[reporting on what you see as an embed] than in a clear reporting of the facts at hand. We see cursory mentions of these soldiers in deteriorating physical condition and of questionable morale, but we see no examination of actual situation versus government spin - Minister O'Connor yesterday, for example. You mention in your first [answer today to Mr. Sheppard's question]that "most" of the men are in good spirits. What about the rest? Are those in good spirits regular army? Is there any correlation between morale and reserve status? We hear nothing about Cpl. Boneca's apparent disillusionment with his situation from those who would be there to hear it and see it firsthand, get no reporting of the conditions that led to it (an injured ankle that took more than a week to be treated, patrols extending themselves more than two weeks beyond their scheduled length and capacity for food and water). But we get plenty of literary examination of the pathetic fallacy of the Afghan countryside and its leporidaeic inhabitants (bunnies). Suffice to say, I'm a little perplexed. What is the reality over there?
Christie Blatchford: Thank you for explaining leporidaeic for me. Clearly you're very smart.
Look, I don't pretend to know the morale or state of mind of all our soldiers here, but I've met and spent time and watched in close quarters now hundreds of them, and interviewed dozens at length. You've heard nothing about Cpl. Boneca's apparent disillusionment from me, or anyone else here, because, in my case, I was in the middle of a firefight, and because the story came from The Toronto Star, which does not have a reporter here, but who interviewed the father of the young man's girlfriend.
And what government spin? I spend as little time as I can here at the safe big base, where the spin originates, when it does. Even here, I talk to actual soldiers, not the brass. I'm not writing spin, unless you consider spin to include what I see with my own eyes, from ordinary soldiers.
Thanks, Christie.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Inter Pericula IntrepidiToday, I learned that the seventeeth Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan is a reservist from the LSSR
I never knew Corporal Boneca-- he joined after I left the unit-- but his family and the Lake Sups are in my thoughts and prayers.
In the piece on the CBC Web site, General Fraser is quoted:"I think the one thing we've got to understand is that he was doing outstanding work out there," Fraser said. "We really do have to admire his professionalism and his heroic efforts to help out people who are less fortunate."
OUTSTANDING was a term I remember hearing alot during the "lean years" when I was a Lake Sup (1993-1999). It's a common exclamation among soldiers. After a 2-day recce patrol, for instance, when the weather had alternated between driving rain and driving snow , and you hadn't caught a wink of sleep laid up in the patrol hide, the usual response the the OC's question "How did the patrol go, gents?" was a chipper "OUTSTANDING, sir!".
You see, Canadian soldiers take great pride in remaining cheerful in adversity. Maybe it is the strain of sang-froid and cool wit inherited through our brit heritage leavened with a bit of Canadian humility, but in the CF, it is always considered important to keep things light-hearted, even when the situation is grim.
Things seem grim in Afghanistan now, but we cannot forget that hundreds of young Canadians have willingly and in some cases eagerly signed up for this duty, knowing full well that this would not be a "peacekeeping" tour, and that some of them would not be coming home alive. Words cannot express the admiration I have for young guys like Corporal Boneca, a "weekend warrior" who was never "required" to go to Afghanistan and willingly put himself in danger for others --reservists volunteer for call-ups, they are not obligated to deploy overseas, as regular force soliders are. He went nonetheless, and he was doing outstanding work, doubtless because because he himself was an outstanding young man.
The motto of the LSSR is Inter Pericula Intrepidi -- Fearless in the midst of Danger. Corporal Boneca's sacrifice is the most profound demonstration of that ideal. God bless him.
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