A Long Awaited Book Review

It is just after 5:00pm. I am at work but am really finished for the day, waiting for Sugar to pick me up.



There is lots of news to share. Personal stuff, pictures, feelings to express.



But that will wait until another time as I am burning to say something to a certain writer:



Julius Caesar.



Mr. Caesar (?),

Upon reading your Conquest of the Gauls, I would like to take this opportunity to review this fine piece of literature and history. I first read this book many years ago and was struck with its intensity as a tribute to your brilliance. Of course... you wrote it. So... yeah, a real testament to your genius. As far as that goes.



But upon this second reading I would like to apologize for any sarcasm or criticism implied in my last statement. After all, where would we all be without you? Medicine, engineering, a code of law, clean water, the notion of civic responsibility... all roads lead back to you don't they? Or was that Augustus?



Anywho, we are all very impressed with the various battles and policies that made you what you were and we have your own account of the Gallic campaign from which to draw wisdom. I'm afraid I cannot comment on your writing style or use of literary devices. After all, this books comes to the modern age after having been translated from Latin to Arabic to an ancient form of Iranian and finally back to Latin. Oh, and then to English. I am sure your subtlety of wit was lost in there somewhere. You are not to blame.



What struck me most significantly this time around is your sense of assured victory. You really knew how to win. You saw the world before as a wild thing that needed to be conquered and tamed. Harnessed, if you will. A yolk needed to be put on the people of Gaul in order to bring them into the Roman fold, the Roman way, the most efficient government on the planet. Many advantages come from the Roman way, but first they must all be taught that they serve, as an oxen is yolked to the cart.


I am stunned that this sense of inevitable destiny and world mastery survived you, survived the Caesars, survived Constantine, survived Rome itself, survived the "dark" ages, plagues, revolutions, reformations...

Did you start all this? Have I just finished reading the tale of the First Cause of imperialism? Hmmm.

But thanks for the great read. Watch out for friends in dark places. They can be murder.

Hey

Hey everyone. How're things?

Sorry to be gone for so long. No internet at home yet. Could be a while. But here's a quick update:

We moved OK, didn't drown, didn't burn or have to evacuate due to forest fires, sushi is really good, restaurants rock, access to produce is a privilege - not a right, Bushmills makes good Irish Whisky, people who drive RV's need to drive them SOMEWHERE ELSE, and lastly:

my books were very happy to see me... and I them.

Can't promise consistency over the next little while. I'll be in touch when things settle down a bit.

Tips for picking wild strawberries

1. Don't look too far afield.  If you are patient and careful, they can be found in my back yard.
2. Take your time.  You have to be a bit zen about filling the bowl or basket.  These suckers are small.  Just keep at it.
3. Watch Juno like a hawk.  Bears like strawberry patches.
4. Watch Juno like a hawk or the big ones won't make it into the bowl.
5. Spend a lot of time.  You need a few hours to get enough to be useful.  
6. Let your mind drift away as you pick, enjoy the sunshine and the breeze.
7. Go mid-morning, before the bugs come out and before the hottest part of the day.
8. Use berry picking to procrastinate cleaning the house.  Works like a charm.
9. Put some on vanilla ice cream.  Add milk and blend if you like.
10. Put some on your cereal.  They are so much tastier than store bought berries, no hormones, no chemicals.

The home we are leaving is a very difficult place to work and takes a huge adjustment to be able live if you are used to cities.

By cities, I mean any place with pavement and a grocery store.  

But this place has its charms.  Ice fishing, wild strawberries, blueberries, cranberries, huckleberries, endless (and slightly spooky) wilderness in all directions, moose, elk, wolverine, wolves, lynx, bobcats, caribou, beaver, black bear, grizzly, hiking, snow shoes, mountains, learning to tan hide...

A place where, if you are deemed a nice person, everyone over 60 is your granparent.  They will bring you cookies, fresh meat, and make sure you are doing OK.  They will also tell you what to do once in a while.  Do what you're told.  They know better.

We leave Sunday, for good.  I mean, we might visit if we can.  Next year perhaps.  But we will be living in a different community, new connections, new kids, new relationships to build.  I am excited and can't wait to start a new, challeging job.  

But I will miss it here, where the land itself tells the stories.  I was only beginning to learn how to listen.

Another boring comment on literature

During all this packing and moving, I've had to keep my mind busy doing something.  Still haven't really moved yet but the truck is coming to pick up our stuff today.  Then, we have a few days of just playing in the woods.  There might be some fishing in the days ahead.

But to keep occupied mentally, I allow stupid ideas to germinate in my pea brain and I carry them to their logical conclusions.  Here's one:

Odysseus is Batman.  

Ancient Greek stories and characters have remained relevant to Western culture over the past few thousand years.  I don't know why.  There are some lessons to learn from these stories - usually know your place and don't aspire to more than is human, but we don't really take those lessons to heart do we?  

But these were powerful stories that the entire world knows.  They have some power in our collective soul.  

I think they have translated themselves into comic books.

Yup.  The foundation of Western literature, in all its resplendent glory, has been distilled to its essence and can be found on the shelf of your local 'Comics R Us'.  Think about it.  

Heracles?  Gilgamesh?  Achilles?  Superman.  Captain Marvel.

Wonder Woman?  Diana, duh.

The modern superhero is an archetype.  A character based on molds thousands of years old.  These slightly-more-than-human people can teach us things about ourselves.  They can remind us of the dangers of rising too far above our station.  That's why Superman never uses his abilities for his own benefit.  He has responsibilities, he takes them seriously.  He could be King!  But he wouldn't.  That would involve hubris, saved for super villains. 

But of all the superheroes, I always liked the ones who weren't so super.  Batman has no powers.  He's just rich, pissed off, smart, and slightly insane.  A rat bastard cheater who uses technology, deception, and ambush but who still likes to get his knuckles bloody on occasion.  

Odysseus.  Sure.  Let's recall Odysseus.  

1. After ten years of stalemate war, Odysseus decides to hide a few guys in a statue so they can open the gate from the inside and kill everyone in their beds.
   
2. On his way home, he decides to spend another ten years sleeping with a witch.
3. He finally decides to go home to his wife and kid, gets most of his crew turned into pigs.  
4. When he gets home, he finds a bunch of dudes eating his food and wooing his wife.  He disguises himself, gets them all drunk and murders them after locking them into a room and hiding their weapons.

The Great Tactician.  Of all the Greek Heroes, Odysseus is the least powerful.  He never got dipped into the River Styx.  He is not descended from the Gods.  He didn't have to kill serpents in his crib.  But nothing bad happens to him.  Of all of them, he is one of the only ones I can think of that don't end in tragedy.  For him anyway.  Odysseus always wins by using cunning and underhandedness.  

Just like Batman.

Boy I am I ready for holidays.

Guess what?

Moving sucks.

'Nuff said.

Reluctant good wishes

Don't delude yourself into thinking that things are better than they used to be.  

Don't fool yourself into thinking that history is a progression from worse to better.  

It isn't.  

The study of history is simply a guess, based on evidence, of where we've been, what we' ve done and how we did things.  Deciding to look at our past as a story, with a beginning, middle, end, setting, theme, morality... all those things that stories have... is a mistake.  

We will have an end, no doubt.  But when the last human dies, who will there be to hear our story?  And what is a story with no one to hear it?  Meaningless, that's what it is.  Sound and fury and all that nonsense.  

Still, Canada is pretty lucky.  We have vast stores of fresh water and natural resources, not that we should take it all for granted.  We are one of the last countries in the world that has real wilderness.  We have a diverse population that gives us strength and a store of perspectives on which to draw, as long as we know to listen.  We have a high standard of living.  We even have Hawkins Cheezies and Tim Hortons.  I am thankful for the bounty of my life.

Of course, all this goodness comes with a price in suffering and poverty paid by someone else. 

If there are haves, there are have-nots.  So it has always been.  So shall it ever be.  

Happy birthday Canada.

Not a eulogy for anyone famous

With all the deaths in the media lately, this one will go unnoticed.  He never wrote any songs or starred in any movies.  Mostly, he just lazed around, chased a tennis ball, cowered during fireworks and lived a codependent lifestyle with my mother.  

Still, fifteen years is a pretty good run for a Newfoundlander.  It isn't easy for an animal to find its way into my heart.  But, somehow, he managed.

It happened fairly quickly, it didn't seem like he was in a lot of pain.  But it was unexpected and Juno will be upset.  She loved him.  He let her use him as a pillow.

R.I.P. Monk.  

Good dog.