Voices in the Night

The telephone's shrill bleating cut through the silence of the night. Sylvia and I snapped into consciousness, fully alert at once; it was 4:30 a.m., and a call at this hour could only mean terrible news.

I snatched up the receiver. "Hello?"

A pause, then the uncertain voice of a middle-aged woman.

"Who's this?"

I felt a flash of irritation. A wrong number.

"It's Earl Woods," I answered.

"Oh...I thought my daughter-in-law might be there."

The woman on the other end of the line wasn't my mother. "No, I'm afraid you've got the wrong number."

Click.

Five seconds later, the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Oh..." It was the same woman. She trailed off, apparently not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry, I'm pretty sure you still have the wrong number."

She hung up without a word.

*     *     *

There were no apologies, no hint of awareness in her tone of voice that she'd done anything inappropriate. If she'd shown any sense of urgency or worry, this twilight caller would have had all my sympathy. But if I ever have to phone someone at 4:30 a.m. and I dial the wrong number, my apologies will be sincere and profuse.

On the other hand, I shouldn't let annoyance overwhelm empathy. There's always a possibility our caller wasn't in full possession of her faculties, though she sounded fine to my untrained ear. It's possible she was depressed, and now I feel bad for even being annoyed in the first place.

A couple of years ago, back when we were living in our first condo, the phone rang at about 1 a.m. As soon as I picked up the phone I was subjected to a blistering stream of invective from a young woman who started screaming about another woman who had wronged her in some way. I tried to calm her down and explain that she had the wrong household, but her string of colourful metaphors came through the phone line like an out of control freight train. After about a minute of this, she hung up.

"What was that about?" Sylvia said. Before I could answer, the phone rang again. This time, instead of offering the traditional hello, I answered more formally:

"Woods-Boucher residence, Earl speaking."

There was a long pause, an indrawn breath - and then instead of continuing her tirade, our midnight caller hung up. No apologies there either, and again if I'd been in her position I would have handled the matter differently. But every person is different, and those of us who place a premium on politeness shouldn't necessarily expect it all the time from everyone.We all have moments when we forget the external world to focus entirely on our private pain.

Roy Batty's Tractor

Many small towns in North America put on some kind of summer fair, complete with a midway, carnival barkers, games of chance, rodeos, live music performances and so on. In Leduc, that annual function is known as Black Gold Days. I enjoyed the midway rides more than the other attractions, but as a semi-rural community Leduc also played host to farm-themed amusements such as tractor pulls; they entertained me as well.

Seen behind Leduc's Black Gold Centre in the photo above is a typical heavily-modified tractor. Apparently it belonged to one Roy Batty. I'm not sure if participating in a tractor pull compares to seeing attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion or witnessing the glitter of C-beams in the dark near Tannhauser Gate, but Batty did seem to appreciate strength. He'd certainly look frightening behind the wheel of this thing.

The Deadly Sunflowers

Sunflowers at the Etsell farm, 1974

These sunflowers grew near the house of my maternal grandparents. For the duration of one visit sometime in the early 1970s, they terrified me. When I went outside to play and first spotted the flowers, my vivid imagination made it seem as though the flowerheads were tracking me, swivelling to follow my every movement. I was afraid that the flowers could shoot the seeds like deadly missiles, perforating me with hard black shrapnel. My dreams that first night were even worse; I couldn't run away, and the flowers towered over me, lowering their heads to shoot me from point-blank range. Some of them lived up to their name, shooting solar death rays from their faces to incinerate me.

Fortunately, once I grew brave enough to admit that the flowers scared me, my parents (or perhaps it was my grandparents) allowed me to harvest one of the ripe heads. I could barely lift the flowerhead; it had the same diameter as a large serving tray, and was several centimetres thick. I sat down on the grass and spent the afternoon plucking out seeds, shelling them, and snacking on them as I enjoyed the sunshine and watched the tall grass sway gently in the soft summer wind.

That was a good day.

Waterton Lakes, 2002

I've been fascinated by maps since childhood. One day, I came across a map showing Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park, straddling the border of Alberta and Montana. The name alone inspired me; it seemed somewhat grand and majestic, a place of importance hidden away in a forgotten corner of North America - or at least so it seemed at the time. 

I didn't get the opportunity to visit until 2002, and then only the Canadian half, Waterton Lakes National Park. I'm not a great photographer, but as I hiked through the park I did snap a few shots that serve as a poor window into the area's beauty.

Waterton-Glacier is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and it's easy to see why once you visit. I hope to return again one day soon - and next time, I'll hop over the border to visit Glacier.

Ad Attack

This kind of political ad - seen a couple of weeks back at the corner of 109th street and Jasper - drives me crazy.

No, it's not the attack on the Tories I object to, nor the acid-laced "humour."

It's the misplaced apostrophes! (Or should I say "apostrophe's?") As used on this billboard, the two instances of the word "MLAs" are clearly meant to be plural, not possessive. The apostrophes shouldn't be there at all! The Edmonton Stickmen have enough money to buy expensive ad space, but apparently they can't afford a proofreader. Just because Microsoft Word  puts a red squiggle under something doesn't mean it's wrong, people.

Pipe Maniac Title Card

Several years ago, Jeff Shyluk and I (abetted by Ron Briscoe and Susan Neumann) wrote a screenplay called Toilet Chase. We followed up with a sequel, Pipe Maniac, which sadly never progressed further than the first handful of scenes.

Today I ran across a photo I took back in 2002, the manhole pictured above. I'm not sure why I took it, but I love the texture, and I immediately imagined it as a still frame of our never-to-be-completed thriller movie. Jeff says that my designs need less yin and more yang (or do I have that backwards?), so this design features a lot of circles and curves, right down to the font choice. The splash of red for the crosshairs is a clue, of course, that this will be a story of suspense and violence in the Hitchcockian or Fincherian vein. Perhaps.

The Claresholm Local Press

Back in 2002 I travelled through Claresholm to visit my old friend from the University of Alberta, Rob Vogt. Rob and I lived on the same floor  at Lister Hall (Main Kelsey, to be exact) for a couple of years; I'm still waiting for his promised book about residence life during those years.

Claresholm is a cool little place, a small town straddling Highway 2, about halfway between Calgary and Lethbridge, and I popped in to visit Rob at the Claresholm Local Press, where he worked as a reporter. (Rob has since become the paper's editor.) The paper is as old as Alberta itself, with a long, rich history.

I couldn't stay for long, but Rob was kind enough to show me around the office. I was awestruck by this gorgeous old printing press.

Local papers are a vital source of information and cohesion for small communities. Rob's story here on provincial budget cuts to education illustrates how decisions made in the provincial capital impact people hundreds of kilometres distant.

The Internet is challenging print media of all kinds, from magazines to books to newspapers. Even small community papers like the Claresholm Local Press have an online presence now, and perhaps the decline of printed reading material is inevitable. I'll be sad when that day arrives. Although I love the convenience and portability of the Internet, I don't think I'll ever lose my love of paper and ink.

Earl vs. the Coach Handbag

Today I met Sylvia at West Edmonton Mall after work.

"I bought a new bag!" she said, eyes gleaming as she held up a large, squarish rainbow-striped bag. It seemed to be made of paper. "It's a Coach!"

She mentioned how much she paid, and I stared at the bag, somewhat dumbfounded. I tried to hide my reaction.

"It sure doesn't look like that bag is worth that much money, but if it makes her happy..." I thought.

My dubious expression must have given me away, for Sylvia suddenly stopped explaining the bag's virtues in mid-sentence.

"Earl. EARL. This is not the bag. This is just a shopping bag. The Coach bag is inside."

"Oohhhhhhh," I said.

She's since shown me the real bag, and I must admit - it's a beauty. Much nicer than the shopping bag!

The Kingpin's Prop Guy

Splash pages are quite common in comics. The opening panel is often metaphorical, a visual representation of the general gist of the story that will unfold in the pages to come. This panel from The Amazing Spider-Man #51 seems to illustrate the concept perfectly: the Kingpin of Crime will utterly dominate New York with his iron fist of evil, smashing all obstacles.

But when you turn the page, you discover that the splash page wasn't metaphorical at all! Yes, the Kingpin actually had someone build a scale model of New York just so he could smash it at the most dramatically opportune moment. Does the Kingpin have a model builder on his payroll for occasions like this? Or does he contract the work out to freelancers?

"Hello, Sime Brothers Propworks?"

"Yes?"

"This is the Kingpin."

"Sure, buddy."

-click-

"Sime Brothers Propworks."

"Don't hang up if you value your business. This is the Kingpin, and I want some work done. I need a scale model of the city, four feet wide and six feet long."

"All right...miniature work, huh? You making a movie, 'Kingpin?'"

"I really am the Kingpin, and no, I'm not making a movie. I'm going to smash it to impress some hoodlums."

"...okay then. Pretty expensive demonstration, Mr. Kingpin."

"I have plenty of money, fool! I'm the Kingpin of Crime! Now please have the model shipped to my office by Friday. Don't worry about the price, just send the bill to my secretary, Madeline."

The Mighty Marvel Method

The so-called "Marvel Method" of writing comics places much of the burden on the artist, who lays out each issue, draws all the action and so on. The writer's job is to create plausible dialogue after the art is complete. In The Amazing Spider-Man #45, Stan Lee gave budding young writers a chance to scrawl in their own dialogue for a single panel.

Here's how I might have written the scene if I actually had a full-time job at Marvel. It's not exactly James Joyce, but it gets the job done.

But then I imagined a more realistic reaction to having a man in spider-themed spandex disrupt a family's life.

How would you fill in those world balloons, "riotous readers?" Excelsior!

The Marooned Mind Game

Ever since my teens, I've been playing an odd little mind game with myself. While driving alone, I wonder what would happen if I, the car and all its contents were suddenly transported somewhere else. How long, with the materials at hand, could I survive? The answer depends on a number of factors.

1. Location
Does the car reappear in the middle of a desert with the hot sun beating down, no sign of an oasis? Perhaps I wind up on a small tropical island, with conveniences such as running water and coconuts, a la Gilligan's Island. Sometimes I wind up on an alien planet, inhospitable to life - but in those circumstances, my car becomes a sealed environment with indefinite life support. Sometimes there are roads, however isolated, and I can drive somewhere - perhaps far enough to find civilization, assuming a full tank of gas. Sometimes the car is stuck on a sand dune or a snowdrift. Sometimes it's floating in empty space, or it materializes inside a deep, dark cave system.

2. Inventory
My favourite time to amuse myself with this puzzle is right after I've made some kind of shopping trip: usually groceries, since those tend to extend my survival time, but sometimes after a trip to the bookstore or a stop at a gas station. 

3. Strategy
If I ever did find myself in such bizarre circumstances, at first I might assume I was dreaming or having some kind of psychotic episode. But (in the game), reality would assert itself soon enough, and I'd have to deal with my situation.

First, I'd investigate my surroundings, when possible. Obviously if I were floating in outer space or enclosed in pitch darkness, I'd probably confine my observations to looking out the windows. If I found myself in relatively hospitable territory, I might survey my immediate surroundings by foot, taking care to never lose sight of the car. Invariably, there are no signs of civilization within sight of the car (except for those times when I start the game on an isolated road or within an abandoned town or city).

Returning to the car, I take stock of my situation. How much food do I have? How can I extend the supply? If I have perishables like milk, eggs or meat, I imagine myself preparing and consuming as much as possible right away, hoarding the dry goods for the long run. How long can one live on crackers and soda pop after the good stuff runs out?

Of course, preparation of the perishable goods is only possible sometimes - say if I'm in a forest near running water. Thanks to Jeff and Susan, there's a well-stocked emergency kit in the car trunk, so that kit always appears in my mental adventures nowadays. My trunk currently also includes a shovel, a couple of folding lawn chairs, a tool kit, an extension cord, an old pair of gloves, some cardboard, charcoal briquettes (about five years old now) and usually a bag of empty pop cans and bottles.

My car usually includes at least one book, and often more, so that I'm never bored if I find myself stuck somewhere. These days I also have my iPhone and its USB charger, which runs off the car battery, providing some more entertainment options, and possibly communications.

In the glove box and console there are napkins, hand sanitizer, a flashlight, pens, some loose change. I have the Club anti-theft device - possibly useful as a weapon. I have the car keys, of course. And in my jacket pockets, my gloves (in the wintertime) and often my pocket camera. Sometimes I'll have my DSLR, too; both are useful for documenting my strange adventure.

Sometimes these adventures will end as abruptly as they began, with my sudden reappearance back home. Sometimes they'll end ambiguously as I eke out a new life for myself on a deserted but lush frontier, living out of my car and off the land. Sometimes I'll manage to drive to some new civilization, celebrated as a strange traveller from afar, my bizarre tales inspiring wonder or disbelief. Sometimes I'll starve to death or be killed while exploring.

Of course, it takes ten times as long to describe this simple mind game as it does to play it. Usually it takes me only a few seconds - a couple of minutes at most - to imagine one of these scenarios.

I suppose there's some evolutionary reason for these idle speculations; perhaps running through dangerous scenarios in quiet moments is a survival instinct, a sort of mental preparation for the worst.

Does anyone else out there play games like this?

Written on the Wind Farm

Wind farm at Cowley Ridge, Alberta. Photo by Elizabeth Woods.

Alberta produces 656 megawatts of power via renewable wind energy, just behind Quebec's production and lagging behind first-place Ontario by about 600 megawatts. Currently, Alberta's wind farms produce about two percent of our electricity generation. Compared to other forms of power generation, wind is virtually emissions-free. There is some risk of disturbing wildlife habitat during installation and maintenance of turbines, and birds and bats have been killed flying into the blades. But overall, wind presents a far more attractive ecological footprint than nonrenewable energy sources.

Alberta's tempestuous winds could produce far more than 600 megawatts of power, but for a variety of reasons we're a long way off from reaching our wind power generation capacity. A couple of posts ago my friend Jeff lamented the lack of funding for artists, particularly in Alberta, a view I happen to share. Seeing Mom's photo above reminded me that some people see wind farms as an eyesore, and that's one of the reasons wind farms haven't been accepted as widely as they could be.

Perhaps the two problems can solve each other. Personally, I think wind farms look pretty cool, but I have no doubt that artists could transform these austere towers into works of art. I love Alberta, but compared to some other places in the world I've visited, our province seems woefully short on public art. Wouldn't it be something if, five or ten years from now, Alberta's landscape was peppered with works of art producing sustainable energy?

Thanks to the Pembina Institute's The Landowners' Guide to Wind Energy for the figures on wind power.

Inanimate Arch Enemy

From 1995-1998, I worked at the Western Board of Music, an educational institution for music instruction. The Board's headquarters was an old house in the Garneau region of Old Strathcona, next to the HUB Mall parking lot at the University of Alberta.

This photocopier, located on the second floor, was my nemesis.

While working at Western Board I could often be found photocopying handouts, newsletters and the like until the copier inevitably jammed. On one memorable day the magnitude of the paper jam was such that one of the interior paper rollers was stripped to the metal core, most of the rubber shredded into the bowels of the machine. I called for a service technician, who was understandably baffled when he saw the damage.

Changing the toner was even worse; the cartridges were of such shoddy construction that they leaked inky black soot all over the place. Each time I attempted this task, I'd get black toner all over my hands, my clothes, the photocopier, the floor, the walls. It was a nightmare. Thanks to this photocopier I know what toner tastes like. I'm pretty sure I inhaled a bunch of it, too. You wouldn't think that serving as an executive assistant would be hazardous, but it became so anytime I ventured to the second floor.

Even worse, not long after I was promoted to executive director we ran out of money to pay for any other staff, so I still had to battle the copier.Thankfully, I'd done enough freelance writing at this point to make the leap to a professional writing career, and I've fought with photocopiers only rarely since then.

The Lifeblood of Politics

When feeling poetic, one might say that dialogue is the lifeblood of politics, or perhaps compromise, or empathy. Perhaps those concepts are the lifeblood of pure politics, but in the imperfect, day-to-day reality we all inhabit, the real lifeblood of politics is money.

The vast majority of Canadians don't belong to any political parties, and so have never attended events like the one pictured above, where Mike Decore and I seem to be having a spirited discussion. (As usual, Mike looks urbane and dapper while I look like a raving lunatic.)That was the 2009 Alberta Liberal Leader's Dinner, an annual event held to raise funds for the party. Prices vary according to the party and the event, but generally speaking it costs anywhere from one hundred to five hundred bucks for the pleasure of a meal, perhaps some entertainment, a couple of speeches and the satisfaction of helping fuel the engine of democracy.

I would prefer it if political parties were funded by small, individual donations rather than big donations from corporations and unions. Public funding would be better still, and I was glad when the federal Liberals passed legislation to that effect. Ironically, so far the changes have helped the federal Tories more than the Liberals, but even so I think it was the right thing to do. The more individual Canadians get involved in politics, whether locally, provincially or federally, the greater the chance that our elected officials will listen to the voices of the people rather than well-funded special interests.

If you consider yourself a progressive, it's especially important to donate to the moderate/progressive/centrist/leftist party of your choice. Right-wing parties attract lots of donations, and we need to match them, dollar for dollar, if we want to build the kind of Alberta and the kind of Canada we want.

Speaking of donations, today would be a great day to donate to the party of your choice and make a matching donation to Doctors Without Borders, my favourite charity. They're already in Japan helping out the victims of the terrible earthquake and tsunami that hit late last week.

Opposition Parties Present United Front on Health Care



Brian Mason, Sue Huff, David Swann, Raj Sherman and Danielle Smith. Photo by Andrew Fisher.

In a huge first for Alberta politics, leaders of the Alberta Liberals, NDP, Wildrose Alliance and the Alberta Party, as well as Independent MLA Dr. Raj Sherman, are calling for a full public inquiry to

"investigate whether or not health care staff and professionals were subject to intimidation, including retribution, professional or employment discipline or the threat thereof, or attacks on their character or professional reputations, in order to prevent them from speaking about issues which affect patient care or the effective delivery of health care in Alberta."

Here are the remarks Alberta Liberal Leader Dr. David Swann delivered this morning at an unprecedented all-opposition party news conference in reaction to new allegations that the provincial government punishes doctors who speak out about problems in health care.

I stand before you at a turning point in Alberta politics. The government duly elected by the people of Alberta has broken a sacred public trust. Recent developments show that Tory mismanagement of our public health care system runs deeper than most Albertans could ever have imagined.

Under unrelenting pressure from all opposition parties, the Premier has capitulated. He’ll allow the Health Quality Council of Alberta to carry out an investigation of cancer care and ER wait times.

That’s no longer good enough. Given the severity of the damning allegations coming forward late yesterday, the investigation proposed by the Premier is not enough on its own to restore public confidence in health care.

Because of the shadow cast over this government by recent developments, Albertans have no reason to trust this Tory government. There’s every reason to believe they’ll try to use the HQCA investigation to cover up their own incompetence.

If this sounds cynical, it’s because the Tories have given us every reason to be distrustful. The depth of their incompetence and dishonesty has grown so great that the Tories have brought together all opposition parties. The need is that great.

Today we speak with one powerful voice, on behalf of all Albertans who care about public health care and financial accountability.

We now demand, on behalf of the people of Alberta, a fully independent public inquiry, one completely free of government interference, control or intimidation.

Ideally, the inquiry we propose would have these features:

• Investigate whether or not health care staff and professionals were subject to intimidation, including retribution, professional or employment discipline or the threat thereof, or attacks on their character or professional reputations, in order to prevent them from speaking about issues which affect patient care or the effective delivery of health care in Alberta

• An inquiry open to the media and the public, transparent and overseen by a current or former Justice of the Crown, with total discretion as to who is called to testify and full access to any documents deemed relevant by the Justice
• A full and open public inquiry to investigate whether the Alberta government, Alberta Health Services or former regional health authorities paid any form of compensation to any person in return for their silence on the quality of health care, or lack thereof, for Alberta patients
• All witnesses relieved of any obligations pursuant to confidential and non-disclosure provisions for the purpose of giving evidence

Premier Stelmach, if you truly care about your legacy, if you really care about public health care and the lives and health of the people you lead, call this inquiry immediately. If your party has nothing to hide, you’ll come clean about your mismanagement of public health care and give our health professionals the tools they need to prevent more tragedies.

To the people of Alberta, I say to you now that we will not allow this government to escape the consequences of its mismanagement and possible corruption. We will not allow our doctors and nurses to be threatened for telling the truth. We will not allow public health care to be destroyed by incompetence and possible corruption. We will act on behalf of every Albertan who has suffered or lost a loved one needlessly.

That is our duty to you, and we will carry it out.

***

What a fascinating time to be working for the Official Opposition. Unfortunately I was stuck behind my keyboard as all this was going down, so I couldn't be at the news conference in person. They also serve who sit and type, I suppose.

Thanks my own personal experiences in the emergency room over the past couple of years, combined with everything I've seen and heard working at the Legislature, there's no question in my mind that this inquiry is necessary. We can't fix the system until we know the whole, unvarnished truth behind the surgery delays and long ER wait times. Will the Premier allow a truly independent and transparent public inquiry to go forward? I certainly hope so. It's no exaggeration at all to say that lives are at stake.

No matter what happens, I'm very proud that Alberta's opposition parties, despite striking ideological differences, came together at this important moment, proving that public health care is important to all of us. Well done, everyone.

Here's the Official Opposition release on today's event.

Super Supporting Characters

For about a decade and a half spanning the early 70s to the mid 80s, Clark Kent worked not as a newspaper reporter, but as anchorman for WGBS-TV. WGBS was located in the same office tower as the Daily Planet, allowing Clark to stay in contact with his regular supporting cast, folks like Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen and Perry White...and of course, Connie Hatch, "the Planet's PUZZLE EDITOR!"

Who knew the Daily Planet had a puzzle editor? I suppose it makes sense that a major metropolitan newspaper would have one, but it's still a little strange to see one playing a role in a comic book story. And yet, odd little details like this enhance the verisimilitude of even the most outlandish stories.

As seen here, Connie inadvertently manages to provide the insight Clark needs to solve Superman's current problem. I wonder if DC or Warner Brothers ever thought of partnering with Ideal to create an S-shield variant of the Rubik's Cube?

In the story excerpt above, Clark references his nominal boss, news director Josh Coyle. Coyle made many appearances in the 70s and 80s, but vanished after Superman's character - and the world he inhabits - was rebooted by John Byrne in 1986.

It's a shame, because I've always had a soft spot for the antacid-popping Coyle. Imagine trying to produce a nightly news show with an anchorman who always showed up at the last second, or who vanished during commercial breaks.

Of course, Coyle needn't have worried, since with Superman's speed, Clark Kent could always handle emergencies and anchor the news, virtually at the same time - but Coyle wasn't privy to Kent's dual identity. Poor Josh, needlessly plagued with ulcers, all thanks to Superman!

To my knowledge, neither Connie nor Josh were ever transformed into werewolves, kidnapped by Metallo, mind-controlled to do a villain's bidding or suffered any other of the various twists and turns of fates suffered by Superman's more famous supporting characters. They were just ordinary folks in an extraordinary world, grounding some pretty crazy stories with just a touch of reality. Comic books wouldn't be the same without them.

To Your Health, Ryan Gordey

Today the Alberta Liberal Caucus bids farewell to longtime health researcher (and regular blog reader!) Ryan Gordey, a stalwart fellow I'm very pleased and gratified to have worked with since 2008.

Even more so than ghostwriters, researchers toil in obscurity doing critical work without the general public ever realizing it. A caucus researcher helps prepare questions for Question Period, writes voluminous bill briefings to help MLAs prepare for debates in the legislature, drafts policy, provides support for all kinds of communications activities, attends stakeholder meetings...it's a long, daunting list of tasks, and I've always been impressed by the tenaciousness and skill of our researchers. I really believe I've worked with the best of the best, and Ryan certainly stands tall among them. Communications people may help their clients sound good, but researchers make sure that public figures always have the relevant facts at hand. I couldn't do my job without them, and I'm profoundly grateful.

Thanks for three fun years, Ryan. And if any other former Alberta Liberal researchers ever read this blog, I hope you know that my thanks and admiration extend to you as well.

International Women's Day

Today marks the centenary of International Women's Day. While I think it's fair to say that women are better off today than they were 100 years ago, at least in the developed world, it's pretty clear that the inherent rights of women still aren't universally respected or even acknowledged. Most of the injustices are fairly well known; the threat of violence faced by women, unequal pay for equal work, inaccurate stereotyping of women, the unfair emphasis on personal appearance and so on. In many parts of the world, women face far worse: state-sanctioned (or at least state-condoned) stoning, genital mutilation and a long list of other horrors.

Folks wiser than me have commented on these issues at length. This International Women's Day, I'd be happy if people could make more of an effort to simply look past one of the basic stereotypes - that of the decision-making husband and the compliant, if not invisible, wife. (Or if you prefer a gender-neutral term for both parties, partner.)

You would think that Canadian society had gotten past this decades ago, but Sylvia and I bump up against this outdated assumption from time to time. On several occasions Sylvia has been ignored by service providers when we're together. Questions and replies get directed to me rather than her, often even at those times when she initiates contact. Being very outspoken and assertive, Sylvia almost always has no problem recapturing the attention of anyone who tries to do this. But she shouldn't have to do this constantly, so sometimes I'll take on the task of ensuring that both of us are equally respected. Usually all that's required is a gentle nudge in the right direction, a subtle gesture or a simple "You should talk to Sylvia about that."

(As an aside, sometimes I still have trouble figuring out when I should jump in and when I shouldn't - I don't want to be paternalistic, but on the other hand I don't want to leave Sylvia in the lurch if and when she'd like my help, either!)

Naturally the goal isn't to be rude or make the other person uncomfortable, but we both get a little tired of people assuming that just because I'm a guy, I make all the important household decisions. We're a team, and we make those decisions together. Involve both of us in the conversation, or we'll take our concerns  or our business elsewhere.

I'm certain that many other Canadian couples face this sort of casual stereotyping. At worst it's an annoyance, but a troubling one. The attitude reveals deep-seated societal prejudices about gender roles. It's going to take another century or two of hard work and education to put those prejudices to rest. But when we do manage it, we'll be that much closer to eradicating the most serious crimes against women, and to building a world of true respect and equality for both sexes.

Mystery Sylvia Theatre 3000

Yesterday afternoon Sylvia screamed up at the ceiling, fists clenched in frustration, eyes pinched shut in rueful ennui: "I'm bored!"

I rushed into the theatre room where my wife reclined. My eyes roamed speculatively across our collection of movies and television shows, searching for the perfect entertainment. They came to rest upon the gaudy boxed sets of Mystery Science Theater 3000, a program much adored by geeks.

"How about one of these?" I asked.

"What's the premise?" Sylvia replied.

"It's about mad scientists who maroon a guy in space and force him to watch horrible movies," I explained.

"So basically what you do to me every weekend," she said.

I had no response to that and retreated back to my office, defeated.

The Dice Are Cast

The Barn at Sunset

Today's previously scheduled post is taking longer than expected to materialize and I'm really making an effort to post something once a day, so here's a photo of the Etsell barn at sunset.

This would be sometime in the late 60s or early 70s. I love the colours - a splash of vibrant red and gold, some earth tones...I'm really just torturing myself with summer scenes as I wait for spring to arrive. I suppose we shouldn't be impatient; technically, spring is still a couple of weeks away.

Tome of the Titans: 75 Years of DC Comics

Armed with an Amazon gift certificate from Sean, I browsed through my recommendations, coming across the innocuously-titled 75 Years of DC Comics. Noting that the book was written by longtime DC Comics scripter Paul Levitz, I thought it would probably be a fun and informative work to add to my collection of pop culture tomes.

The book arrived today in a box far larger than I expected. 75 Years...25 pounds, at least. It's bigger than Sylvia.

The book even comes with its own storage box for the superhero on the go.

Now all I need is a table large enough to use as a reading platform. It's too heavy for my lap. Great Krypton!

Pints and Politics with Kent Hehr

Last night Kent Hehr, Alberta Liberal MLA for Calgary-Buffalo, hosted the first of his popular Pints and Politics get-togethers to be held in Edmonton. Somewhere between 30 and 40 people of various ideologies and affiliations showed up to eat, drink and discuss Alberta politics. MLAs, candidates for provincial and federal office, political party members, caucus staffers and politically-minded citizens from a wide variety of backgrounds gathered together for mostly cordial discussions of the issues of the day.

Even folks in the same party can disagree over specific points of policy. Actually, Kent and I are just posing here, using the "rhubarb rhubarb" trick for fun. I think he looks more convincing than I do - probably why he was elected in 2008 and I wasn't!

John Santos was David Swann's Executive Assistant, and he's transitioned to a new role as Alberta Liberal Caucus media liaison. Once again, I've forgotten to take off my security pass after leaving work. John was kind enough not to point this out, (unlike some of my former colleagues, cough cough).

Several ex-coworkers showed up last night, and it was great to see them again. Even as roles change, connections remain, and the ties of common citizenship bind us all together.

Photos by Andrew Fisher.

Double Exposure Experiment One

You can do a lot of amazing things with Photoshop, but sometimes it's fun to experiment in the analog world. While scanning the family slides, it suddenly hit me that I could place one slide atop another to create a double exposure effect. And lo and behold - it worked! After a fashion, at least. It would work better if I chose two relatively uncluttered slides - one to serve as background, and the other featuring a strong subject. This exposure would have been way more dramatic if I had been standing against empty sky instead of the peas behind me; that way, the flaming debris of the second slide wouldn't have had to compete with as much clutter. Still, for a quick experiment, I think it's kind of neat.

Thompson Tales

In northern Manitoba, winter's embrace is long, tight, and bone-chilling. Having shown how a typical southern Manitoba winter looked in the 1970s yesterday, here's an equally frigid image of Thompson, several hundred kilometres northeast of Virden. That's our backyard, buried in snow, with a huge drift looming off the roof's edge, ready to collapse. Dad managed the local Acklands branch, supplying the commercial and industrial automotive industry. Cold winters generally meant good business.

Here I am all bundled up for some forgotten excursion. I was a preschooler at the time, so at least I didn't have to walk to school in weather like this. (In fact, we moved further north, to Leaf Rapids, so I wound up walking to school in even worse weather.)

Despite the cold, I retain warm memories of northern Manitoba. In the summertime, the snow warmed enough to make snowmen. All right, so it was probably late spring. Still, note that the snowman's ears are made of snapdragons in full bloom. Note also the lush lawn peeking through the snow. Winter could hit during any month of the year, save perhaps June and July. Maybe. It was from this backyard that the kids next door stole my big beautiful Tonka dump truck, or at least that's what the clues seemed to indicate. Dad valiantly tried to retrieve it, but we couldn't prove the theft. I was pretty incensed by the injustice.

In compensation, Manitoba is beautiful in the summertime. Here's how our house looked during those elusive weeks. I sat on that very stoop, perhaps even in the same pair of pajamas, the day Mom and Dad set the breakfast bacon on fire. As soon as I became aware of the blaze, I retrieved my most prized possession: a suitcase full of toy cars, a prize Dad won from McQuay-Norris, a manufacturer of engines and steering parts for automobiles. Suitcase in hand, I evaded the billowing smoke and sat on the front step, playing with my cars while waiting for the fire department to arrive.

The firemen arrived minutes later, snuffing out the blaze with dry ice fire extinguishers. Damage was minimal (the insurance company simply paid Mom to scrub the smoke damage off the walls), but the firemen had to place a huge fan on the front step to suck the smoke out. According to my parents, I was completely unfazed during the whole affair. Ah, the serenity of childhood.