He doesn’t blog often, but he often blogs well. From John Dumbrille: In education and employment insurance and job training, we have to move away from systems of compliance, social conformity, rote learning and regular brain calaesthenics. We need something else. Something bringing real connection to things and to ourselves, something about real value, something about being entrepreneurrial, non co-dependent. If we can assimilate these qualities and pass these on to our children and co-workers we will create wealth, by any defintion. Becoming a farm of cheap labour is not inevetiable for us. But we can avoid it only by …
Crazy Horse 1845 – 6 September 1877 Just missed the anniversary of the death of Crazy Horse, which was the same day as the birth of Parking Lot. THat’s an appropriate coincidence. To honour it, here are the lyrics from a Robbie Robertson song I love. Crow has brought the message to the children of the sun for the return of the buffalo and for a better day to come You can kill my body You can damn my soul for not believing in your god and some world down below You don’t stand a chance against my prayers You …
Martha on Lake Simcoe with my aunt Norah A memorial site has been set up for my cousin Martha Mills, her fiancee Sean and their friend Peter Ambler. There are some photos of the three of them and some links to worthy causes and projects in their names. There is also a guest book for people to add their memories. I wanted to finish writing about Martha with this photo above, because as I have already written, this is mostly how I remember her, as a little kid at my grandparent’s cottage on Lake Simcoe, north of Toronto. This picture …
Here are some more articles relating to Martha, including one with a lovely biographical sketch: Rocky Mountain Outlook Globe and Mail death notice Martha’s organs were donated to four sperate individuals, a gift that empitomized the way she lived her life. I find the following poem overused, but for one who spent so much of her life outdoors, and the last few years in the mountains and on the prairies, it seems appropriate: Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond …