Of Madmen and Mayors

“There are lots of people who mistake their imagination for their memory.”  ~Josh Billings

Yesterday was one of those days when I got up, turned on the news and seriously considered going back to bed.  The western world was once again gripped in tragedy after the bombings in Brussels.  I made coffee and watched the news for about thirty minutes before deciding to turn it off.  I don't understand anything anymore.  It is too sick and too sad, too incomprehensible, too inhumane.  I cancelled my plans to go downtown for lunch.  I didn't have the heart to speak to anyone.

A couple of hours later while checking my Facebook page, I saw the news of Rob Ford's death.  Dying of cancer at just forty-six years old is sad.  Mr. Ford left two small children.  There is, no doubt, much sadness in his family.  They grieve for a brother, son, father and husband.  When it was becoming evident that his life would be coming to an end, I wondered what would be said about him when he passed.  Would the media whitewash Rob Ford, the man?  Would his political allies?  The general public?  

Just 50 people showed up for a vigil in the rain last night hosted by Mayor John Tory to honour the victims of the Brussels attack.  Thirty people dead, many more injured, ordinary people, going to work on the subway, going away on a holiday or going home, their lives snuffed out in an instant by madmen.   Many more Toronto residents showed up in the rain to leave flowers, notes and tokens at a makeshift shrine set up in the Etobicoke park named after Rob Ford's father.

When his death was announced yesterday morning, the media kicked into high gear, saying little more about Rob Ford's misdeeds than that he had his problems. They interviewed his colleagues at city hall including his fiercest opponents.  All talked about his love for his family and his kindness to people in need.  Maybe those things were true.  But equally and more true is that he was an abusive husband, racist, misogynist and criminal who hung out with bad men and did bad things.  He believed he was above the law.  He abused the office of mayor. He brought shame to our city and embarrassment to our citizens.  While I have no need to vilify him in death, I certainly have no intention of canonizing him either and I will not be complicit in rewriting history.  Surely our memories aren't that bad.

Becoming Me

"I saw courage both in the Vietnam War and in the struggle to stop it. I learned that patriotism includes protest, not just military service." -  John F. Kerry

My friend Tricia Dower's new novel Becoming Lin came out this week.  I ordered it months ago when I learned that it would be released this spring.  I loved her last book Stony River and expected this new one would be equally good.  I was wrong.  Becoming Lin is even better.

I am a voracious reader.  When I pick up a book that resonates with me, I usually won't put it down until it is done.  This often means 3 a.m. bedtimes giving me only a few short hours to sleep until I need to be up for a meeting.  Becoming Lin is only 275 pages, so no late night would be required.  It should have been an afternoon's reading but in fact I took three days to finish it.  I worked hard to resist the urge to read until it was done.  For one thing, I knew that I would be sad to come to the end.  I got attached to the characters and was reluctant to let them go.  For another thing, I wanted to reflect on the story as I read it.  I spent hours remembering who and where I was in the time of the Vietnam war though I was younger than Lin, the central character in the book.  It was the late sixties and early seventies. I was becoming Jackie.

Coincident with my reading, I entered into a conversation of sorts with my cousin Francis.  He has been trying to help me understand the intricacies of U.S. politics.  Francis is a bit older than me.  He was drafted and served in Vietnam when I was in high school.  Though I've wanted to talk to him about it for more than forty years, we have not.  Francis doesn't talk about the war.  He has written about it though, sharing his writings with only his wife in the civilian world.  This week, he shared them with me.  I am truly humbled.

As I have had to learn to live with the physical and psychological effects of lifelong heart disease, Francis has had to learn to live with the lifelong physical and psychological damage of war.  I wish there was something as simple as getting a pacemaker to fix his maladies.  Unfortunately, there is not.  There is only love.  I'm not sure it is enough.

Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/vietnam_war.html

Bionic

“Recovery begins from the darkest moment.” -  John Major

After a long, painful day, I was released from Mt. Sinai last night at the height of the snowstorm.  I am bruised, sore and in an abundance of pain.  I'm also incredibly grateful.  I've decided having a pacemaker officially qualifies me as a bionic woman.  I wonder if my new status comes with super powers.  At this point, I would be happy if it just means I can climb the stairs without stopping twice or walk a block in the cold without gasping for breath. 

Anything beyond that will be a bonus.

Anxious

“No amount of guilt can change the past, and no amount of worrying can change the future. Go easy on yourself, for the outcome of all affairs is determined by Allaah’s decree.

If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from it you cannot flee.” - Umar Ibn Al-Khattaab

In a few minutes I will leave for Mt. Sinai.  It's surgery day.  I'm filled with anxiety.  I had a bit of a meltdown a couple of hours ago but I have calmed down a bit since then.  I'm wondering why this time is so much harder than the other times I've been through surgery.  This is hardly the scariest procedure I've had.  Maybe it is because it is my heart.  The very essense of being.  The beating of which keeps me alive.  The metaphorical repository for my feelings.

I expect all will go well.  In the event it does not, there is little left unsaid.  The people I love, know I love them.  The rest is out of my control. I surrender.