Category Archives: The Bigger Picture

Why I Vote

Posted on May 2, 2011 by Barb| 7 Comments

It’s Election Day here in Canada. Voter turn-out may be higher than usual today. A lot of people are frustrated enough to actually get up and go out and mark an X on a piece of paper. Something that you wouldn’t think would be soooooo difficult. Something that, as a woman, I am always grateful and proud to do, remembering that, when my mother was born, she wasn’t even considered a person under Canadian law. Something that on even a cursory skimming of world headlines you realize that people are literally dying to do.

I vote because I care. I vote because I can. Mostly I vote because of Debbie.

I met her at school. We were 12 and, from the first day of grade seven until the end of high school, she was the one. You know what I mean. Every school has one. The one they all picked on. The one they made fun of, pushed, laughed at, hated.

Tormented.

I was the coward in the corner thanking Christ it wasn’t me. I didn’t actively participate. But I didn’t help either, because helping would have made me a target and I was too afraid.

When we studied the Holocaust and everyone in class was sure that they’d be terribly brave, would do the right thing, I thought of Debbie. And I wondered.

Years have passed, but deep down I suspect that I am still that same cowardly girl. That, if it came to it, chances are I wouldn’t be able to be brave enough.

So every election, no matter what else is going on, even when it’s raining, I go out and I vote. I vote for fair play. I vote for human rights. I vote for the people who want to move us forward.

Democracy isn’t perfect. Everyone says so, no matter what the details of their democracy happen to be.

It isn’t perfect, but it sure beats wondering if I could ever be that brave.

* * * * *

(This post may sound familiar to some of you. It’s a slightly reworked version of a piece I wrote on an earlier blog the last time we went to the polls. I thought it was maybe worth repeating.)

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Posted in The Bigger Picture

I’ve Said It Before And I’ll Say It Again, This Whole Circle Of Life Thing Blows Chunks

Posted on February 24, 2011 by Barb| 14 Comments

Alan and I were in Windsor last weekend. His Dad sold his house. The deal closes at the end of next month. In the meantime, Dad’s moved in with Alan’s brother and sister-in-law. I think we’re all sleeping a little better knowing he’s not alone.

On Sunday, we all met at the house, to turn in our keys, take what we wanted and help him price the rest. Not, I’m sure you can appreciate, the easiest of tasks.

But we pulled together and got it done. None of us really needed much, just one or two things to hold onto. It’s been my experience that one item can hold memories while many items seem to dilute them. So we took a strongbox that came out of Alan’s grandfather’s store. It’s old and rusty and battered. It was jimmied open once. It’s perfect. We also took the carafe that we always used when we had dinner at Dad’s house. He can be assured that he will be toasted many times over with the wine that it will hold in the years to come.

By early afternoon, it was time to go. We put our treasures in the car and said our goodbyes.

And, with the jingle of keys, it was done.

For fifteen years, we’ve been gathering at that house, just a simple house in the suburbs. I met two of my nieces there. We celebrated Thanksgivings and Christmasses. Learned to start dinner without Mum to tell us it was time (a much harder lesson to learn than you might think). So much food and laughter and tears. All done.

On the way home, we stopped in to visit my niece and her husband and see their new house. I know. It’s like I planned the juxtapostion just for this post. They’re just getting started on their journey. Right now it’s just the two of them. Soon there will be three. They’ve had their first Christmas. There will be other celebrations. There will be fights and forgiveness. And time moves on.

In this life, we learn to love and we learn to grieve when we lose those loves. And there is a stage in that grief when everything seems dull. Blunted. I call it the “All of Life is Pointless” phase. I’m sure many of you know it. And what I am learning, slowly, is that this, in fact, is true. There is no point to life, no ultimate goal, no lesson that, once learned, makes it all worthwhile. There are just moments, one after another, after another. We are faced with those moments and asked to decide what to make of them. The hope is that we make them something good. And, moment by moment, hello turns into goodbye.

But if you’re really lucky, you have a store of moments behind you, people you have met, meals you have shared, lessons you maybe have learned. And you relax, knowing that that is all you get and really all you need.

How about you? What kinds of moments have you been having lately?

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Posted in The Bigger Picture

Tagged breathe

Life Lessons

Posted on February 17, 2011 by Barb| 5 Comments

Alan and I went to see The King’s Speech, set at the start of World War Two, last night. When we go to a movie, we stay right through the credits. Gaffers and stand-ins can take comfort in the fact that someone, somewhere is seeing their name on the big screen.

As we were watching, there was the usual post-movie shuffling around as people gathered up their coats and popcorn boxes and started heading for the exits. Behind us, a woman with an English accent said, “Ooooh, that sound sends a chill down my spine even now… Did the sirens sound the same on your side?”

And her friend, with an eastern European accent, explained that she never really heard air-raid sirens until afterwards. But then, of course, “they turned us over to the Russians…”

They chatted a bit more about their experiences. The English lady lived in a big city, where bombings were frequent. Her friend lived in a small town, up in the mountains of Czechoslovakia.

As they made their way out of the theatre, I said to Alan, “Want to follow history?” and we walked out after them, at a discreet distance. They were two old ladies. They reminded me of my Mum.

I bet that, in the midst of those dark and frightening times, with the bombs and the sirens for one and then the repression and the fear for the other, they never thought that time would pass, that one day they would be old and safe, going to a movie with a friend who once was the enemy, chatting about a shared experience, the divisions that once seemed so important rendered irrelevant by old age and the losses that entails.

We all think that this time we’re in, right here, right now is the end of time. We say things like, I never thought I’d end up here…

But we haven’t. We haven’t ended up, we don’t end up, until we’ve actually ended. Whatever bombs seem to be falling on our lives will, eventually, stop. And, yes, there will be reminders, the sound of sirens will send a chill down our spine, but chances are, we will be safe and warm, in the company of a good friend who may have once been the enemy, or merely a stranger, giving a lesson in history and in life to two avid students on a random Wednesday evening.

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Posted in The Bigger Picture, Uncategorized

Tagged breathe, inspiration

The HappySimple Water Challenge

Posted on October 15, 2010 by Barb McMahon| 2 Comments

Today is Blog Action Day, the day when thousands of bloggers from around the world get together to write about a single, pressing issue. This year, we chose water.

A few simple, stunning facts:

right now 2.6 billion people live without a toilet
884 million people lack access to clean water
Every week, nearly 38,000 children under the age of 5 die from unsafe drinking water

The implications of this in terms of health, the ability to move up from poverty, the ability to move forward to equality for women are so far-reaching as to seem insurmountable.

It’s easy to look at these facts and either feel completely hopeless or to think something like, “Well, those people, they’re used to it.”

But here’s the thing. They’re not those people. They’re you and me in a different location. With no cash. They are as embarrassed and distressed by having to relieve themselves in public as you would be. They are as worried about their children’s future as any mum is. They are as gracious in sharing the little they have as I aspire to be.

They deserve better than they’re getting right now.

So here’s what I propose doing.

Pull out this month’s utility bills and take a look at what you’re paying for water and sewage. Make a note of it. Then cut back your usage as much as you can. Be vigilant about turning off the tap when you brush or shave. Take short showers. Don’t flush every time. Quit washing your car and watering your lawn. Don’t waste a drop.

Then next month, see how much you’ve saved on your water bill. Compare the two and donate the difference to a group like charity:water or water.org Do this every month.

You’ll be showing solidarity with those for whom water is a daily life and death struggle and you’ll be giving money to groups who can actually make a difference. It’s a total win-win.

Who’s with me?

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Posted in The Bigger Picture

Tagged inspiration

Those Last Ten Pounds Have Something to Tell You

Posted on September 22, 2010 by Barb McMahon| 12 Comments

Weight loss has to be one of the most popular topics in North America these days. And if you can give people hints, tips, sure-fire action plans for getting that hated weight off their bodies, never to return, well, popularity and riches are assuredly yours.

By now, you probably realize that I look at things just a little differently. I don’t do wholesale systems for anything, so I’m not going to start when talking about weight. Besides, it still comes down to the dreaded “eat less and exercise more” which is simple to say and kinda hard to do. And not something that I want to spend a lot of time writing about.

But what gets me is the fact that we hate our extra weight so much. We hate our bodies for putting it on and keeping it on without ever stopping to think about the process that allows this to happen. Because that process, unhealthy as it might be in excess, is kind of amazing.

Our bodies remember things that our minds know nothing of. They are tied to memories of the past, to our ancestors who lived through repeated cycles of famine, times that killed off so many people. We read that history and we think that because it was so long ago, because humanity as a whole survived, that the story was inevitable, that it doesn’t really matter. But to our ancestors, it wasn’t a story, the outcome wasn’t inevitable. It was real life, with real people and very real losses. Our bodies connect us to that past and to a community of people we will never know.

The ability to store up weight is a miracle, one that our ancestors bodies learned through trial and error. One that they passed through millennia down to us. One that, like Great Aunt Harriet’s good china, we don’t really want now.

But storing weight is how our bodies protect us. And it may be inconvenient, like small dogs barking at imagined intruders, but it is protection, it is our bodies just trying to help. And if you look at it that way, it’s maybe a little easier to deal with.

So maybe say thank you. And remember our ancestors who worked so hard just to live, whose bodies learned a trick for making survival more sure.

We are part of a continuum. A community.

And yes, we want to be healthy. And extra weight can be unhealthy. So we try to eat better and take ourselves out for a walk and learn to be a little more healthy.

But don’t hate that extra weight. Shed it if you must, but thank it first, for reminding you that you’re connected to a past you never knew, to ancestors who lived and suffered and died and made the incremental changes to give your life a chance.