‘Have you seen the latest campaign commercial released on X by Trump? It’s called: God Made Trump.’ I asked Camp as soon he sat down.
‘It’s frigging cold out there,’ he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around himself. ‘The arctic freeze is here.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Yes, I’ve seen it. The one where he claims that God Almighty personally appointed him to come down to earth to save America.’
‘Yes, that one where he promised God and America that he would work 7 days a week, not only 6 like his boss, work until midnight every day, use his strong arms to wrestle the Deep State and then deliver his grand child?’
‘You don’t have to repeat it. It made me barf the first time. At first I thought it to be a farce, a comedy stunt but no, this is a genuine Trump narcissistic maniacal promo video. No doubt to be lampooned at nauseum by Saturday Night Live, Steve Colbert and every self-respecting Late Night Show comedian.’
‘Adding fuel to the fire, no doubt, more press, more exposure. Just exactly what he wants.’ I said.
Let me read you something that shows who is is. ‘He a liar and a cheat, says sports writer Rick Reilly. When he plays golf he takes ‘mulligans’ (extra strokes that aren’t counted in one’s score), throws opponent’s balls off the greens and into the bunkers, and kicks his own errant shots back onto the fairway so often that one of his caddies nicknamed him Pele, after the soccer star. Trump doesn’t just cheat at golf, Reilly concluded. He cheats like a three-card Monty dealer. He throws it, boots it and moves it. He lies about his lies. He fudges and foozles and fluffs.’
‘It’s harmless behavior on a golf course but not on the international stage as president of the USA,’ I said.
‘There are people who have dogs and then there are dogs who have people,’ I said to Camp who was already enjoying a pint of golden liquid in our usual spot by the harbour.
‘I know what you mean,’ Camp said. Dogs are a big responsibility. There are those who have dogs for companionship, some who have them to guard against bears and thieves and then there are those who have dogs, especially the small designer breeds, as accessories. I can never get over it when they drag the small animal on its 3-inch legs behind them.’
‘And then there are those who use dogs as deterrents. Some pit bulls are like loaded guns,’ I said.
‘Some dog owners lavish so much emotional capital onto their pets as if they were people, and instead of proper training they yell at them as if the dogs could understand.
Pets can fill an emotional void, maybe even in lieu of a child, but they can be valuable companions for lonely and elderly people. Dogs get their owners out walking and dog people have an affinity with other dog owners and thus have an unlimited amount of dog lore to talk about. There are so many dogs these days, in high-rise apartments and small flats, left alone all day or fostered out to doggie daycare. It’s a massive industry from petfood to vets.’
‘Let me consult Siri,’ I offered. ‘There are approximately 8 million cats and 6 million dogs in Canada. Approximately 35% of Canadian households have a dog and 38% have a cat. (source: Ipsos Reid). From 2020-2022, the Canadian dog and cat populations continued to grow, increasing from 7.7 million to 7.9 million for dogs, and from 8.1 million to 8.5 million for cats. Pet food sales in the US increased by 10 percent in 2020 to a total of US$ 42 billion for the year (according to American Pet Products Association, APPA), and Canada exported $ 1.1 billion worth of pet food in 2020,’ I quoted.
‘I’m in the wrong business,’ Camp said, ‘And more people seem to have acquired a dog during the pandemic. I’m wondering if they kept them once we could travel again.’
‘As inflation puts cost pressures on pet owners and many return to in-person work, people are surrendering their pandemic pets, overwhelming animal shelters across the country, according to a CBC report. The L.A. Times just ran an article about overcrowding shelters and the L.A, City Counsel moved to halt new permits for dog breeding.’
‘Yes, people got lonely and worked from home. Ergo, get a dog. And thanks to us carnivores who eat all the meat, the pets get all the innards, bones, blood and viscera. Nothing gets wasted. It’s all protein.’
‘Interesting point,’ I said.
‘Did you ever have a dog?’
‘No, but when I was a kid, I fantasised about a Lassie dog and when we were in New Zealand I looked after a Weimaraner for a few months. It was a very needy dog with unbounded nervous energy and it hated poodles but we definitely took a liking to each other. But with our travel and work lives we could never see the room for a dog.’
‘Same here,’ Camp said. I often thought about having a dog, one that would obediently lay at my feet in the book store and walk me home at the end of the day but I decided against it because it entailed to much responsibility for my liking.’
I asked Vicky, our server, if she had a pet when she brought our fresh pints around.
‘I have a stuffed dog, Fluffy, that’s been with me since early childhood. It’s very cuddly and no bother at all and doesn’t mind staying home alone.’
‘As the year draws to a close and we are celebrating it’s also a time to reflect. Are our celebrations joyful or hedonistic, should we cry instead of laugh. Should we celebrate our lucky selves or should we bemoan the fate of those less fortunate?’ I asked Camp as I took my seat and Vicky served us wearing a rakish white Santa hat.
‘Maybe we can do both. Compartmentalize is my key word for the year,’ Camp said.
‘Was it a good year? Will the next year be better?’
Camp was pensively looking out the window at the grey waters of Howe Sound. ‘What’s there to look forward to in the next year?’ he shrugged his bony shoulders, shaking his unruly mane of curly grey? ‘Best not to think too far ahead and concentrate on the here and now.’
I’m not sure if he was being facetious or serious. I call myself a realist which is often mixed up with a pessimist or a cynic. ‘I will try to keep my focus on the things I can influence and maybe even change or at least comment on and maybe be heard. Shut out the noise from the rest of the world and concentrate on what’s going on in my life. Is that being selfish or obtuse? Is that kind of ostrich behaviour good for my health? Maybe but it is what people around me – Clare, you and assorted friends – recommend?’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ was Camp’s response.
Personally, my last year was a success. I travelled, sailed, biked and hiked; I stayed healthy and enjoyed hanging out with friends and family. Life is good and I do my very best to continue on in the same mode for next year.
On the downside I lost some important people in my life: one a long-time friend who exited with dignity, courage and humour despite the collapse of his nervous system that left him paralyzed but cognizant. As Al said when we said good-by to him: It was nice knowing you. Two others were not close friends but outstanding individuals who I interacted with over a number of years, who encouraged and supported me in my writing attempts and who shared their own thoughts and time. They both passed suddenly, taken out of this life without any indication that their time was up. Both were healthy to within a week or ten days of their passing and had already made plans for next year’s travel and beyond. I will miss Bev and Jaime.
On the upside we welcomed two new members to our family, both girls, Lou and Mara, born to nieces and nephews in Switzerland and it strikes me as profound that those babies will be in my age group when the present century draws to a close. What adventures and challenges await them is an exciting and intriguing mystery. It seems like a long time looking ahead but looking back is a different vista altogether. While the future stretches out infinite ahead of us, the past is now compressed into memories and stories, repeated over and over until present company stifles a yawn. ‘Thanks Camp.’.
‘Any predictions for the new year?’ Camp asked.
‘Let me consult my crystal ball,’ I said, staring into my empty pint. ‘Trump will choke on a cheeseburger, Trudeau will come out as gay and the Ukrainians, Israelis and Palestinians will be supported in managing their own countries.’
‘Sounds more like a Santa wishlist than predictions.’
‘Maybe but here is a small fact. Fresh off the press. The world population grew by 75 million in 2023 and will pass 8 billion people on New Year’s Day, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.’
Camp pondered this and let it sink in.
‘All I know is that time is fleeting and you better drink up. Here come the refills.’
‘The best of the season to you and your families,’ Vicky toasted us while setting down the last two foaming mugs of golden goodness in front of us.
‘What are you two up to for Christmas?’ I asked Camp. ‘Is there going to be turkey and jingle bells? Is Sophie coming home?’
‘Sophie isn’t coming to the coast from Montreal. Too much stress and too expensive to travel at this time of year.’
‘I could ask Clare if she would like to get together, maybe cook a bird and have a few drinks and laughs.’
‘Let me tell you a little Christmas story that happened many moons ago,’ Camp said. ‘It still makes me cringe and is one of the reasons I don’t really subscribe to turkey and all the hoopla. It was a time when I was friends with Cassandra. Before your time buddy.’
‘Now I’m intrigued. I thought you’re the consummate bachelor before you met Muriel.’
‘I was not a monk.’
‘Would you like to host this year’s Christmas dinner at your place?’ Cassandra’s mom asked us, looking at me. ‘It would be so much more convenient for everybody and it would be a neutral place.’
‘Neutral?’
‘Well, yes. Sandy, Cassandra’s sister, doesn’t want to have Chuck’s parents over. The mother just rides her ragged and the father drinks and gets obnoxious.’
Really. Sounds like pleasant company and why would I want to have those people over for Christmas dinner? Doesn’t sound like fun, more like a ritual sacrifice. I didn’t say that aloud. Instead I suggested: ‘Why don’t we all just go to the pub. That’s pretty neutral.’
Cassandra’s mom shook her head. ‘You know it would be such a favour and everyone would pitch in and help you cook the turkey and prepare the dinner.’
Cassandra looked at her mom skeptically, craning her neck skywards and slowly rubbing it, a pose she assumed when she worked out a problem. ‘You know mom, this isn’t going to go over very easy. Some major convincing needs to happen. Nothing short of flattery and bribery.’
I held my tongue and sipped the expensive wine her mom had brought over but not without a certain degree of anticipation. There would be a price to pay.
‘You’re such a good cook and pleasant host and you’re so good at it. It wouldn’t even be a big event. Just like a fun party.’
‘Dinner for ten?’ I said. Six of whom I don’t know or even like. Some party. ‘More wine please.’
‘Honey…’ My ears perked up, my sphincter clenched and I basically tensed up. Whenever Cassandra used that term of endearment, I knew I was being trapped and coerced. ‘Honey, do it for me and the family.’
How could I say no. I’m such a jovial host, such an outstanding cook and such a sucker for manipulative females. ‘All right, I’ll do it.’
‘You’re such a good sport,’ the mom said. ‘Pass me the rest of that wine will you.’
Since I was in charge of cooking the turkey, Cassandra volunteered to make her favorite desert, Pavlova, a recipe from her days in New Zealand. The secret was to let the merengue cool in the oven over night and I was forbidden – on the penalty of instant death – to open the oven door. I had only turkey on my mind and when I got up on Christmas morning, the first thing I did was preheat the oven and then went to have a shower.
I was not prepared for the blood curdling scream that came from the kitchen. I almost choked on my toothbrush but at the very instant the penny dropped and I rushed upstairs, three steps at a time, to undo the damage. But it was too late. I’ve never seen Cassandra in such a state of agitation, she was visibly trembling with anger and disappointment, all directed at me. ‘How could you, after I told you over and over not to open the oven.’
‘I didn’t open it,” I stammered, I just eh…wanted to pre-heat.’
‘You’ve ruined the merengue. Look! It’s collapsed and there is a big crack.’
‘Nothing that can’t be fixed with plenty of whipped cream, nobody will notice, believe me.’
Cassandra gave me a killer stare but eventually settled down to a seething agitated state and carried her precious, damaged Pavlova away from me, the vicious dessert killer.
The turkey was in the oven, doing what it was supposed to and the jams, Brussel sprouts and mashed potatoes were on the stove and Cassandra was once again fussing with the Christmas tree which I bought from the scouts for twenty bucks. The table was set with festive napkins, candles and party gags, the doorways festooned with cedar and holly branches, Christmas music in the background, cracking logs in the fire place and the succulent aromas from the kitchen wafting through the house. The guests arrived and behaved predictably. Chuck lamented the weather and the state of the world; Sandy’s dark dress was inappropriate and Chuck’s dad had obviously started to celebrate early and was well into his cups. Cassandra’s mom beamed and was enjoying the banter. Even the injured Pavlova looked perfect, decorated with loads of whipped cream, kiwis and strawberries.
‘Wow Camp,’ I had no idea. ‘We don’t have to do a turkey or a pavlova. How about a Swiss fondue and pineapple with tequila for dessert?’
‘Does it feel like the world is in precarious shape, politically, economically and morally?’ I asked Camp, still trying to digest the morning news of slaughter, mayhem, lies and politics.
‘You really need a break from the endless news cycle of misery. Look at the beauty around you, cherish the people you know, have a laugh, listen to some music.’
‘I know you’re right Camp but this war in the middle east wakes me up, the spectre of another Trump presidency makes me break out in a rash and Putin’s war of attrition, sacrificing thousands of lives for his hubris is making me ill. Those are just the top three on a long list of wrongs.’
‘We both know that your feelings about all this will not change anything in the world out there but may very well impact your health, your relationships with people and your state of mind. You’re turning into a cantankerous pessimist; worse than just a cynic like me.’
‘You’re right. All this bad news is affecting my mind. The world needs a reset so everybody can start again. We cannot go around in an endless cycle of blood feuds, revenge and punitive bloodshed fuelled by hate and disinformation. Most of all, the present generation cannot pay for the sins of their forefathers and we cannot use history as a motivator for future policies and behaviour. To re-live the past and saddle the present and next generation with the guilt of their fathers is unfair and a burden nobody should carry.’
This post I published a few years back but this time of year I’m always reminded of how old customs change and history is revised. One of the mythical figures at this time of year is Santa who today is a silly old man with a beard who holds no authority and cannot put kids on his knees any longer. How different it was when I was a kid back in Switzerland. Here it goes:
I like walking to the pub, along the beach into the village, before it gets dark. This time of year, the town is festooned with ornate seasonal lighting and quirky front yard scenes of blowup reindeer and chubby Santas. I needed to tell Camp about my dramatic childhood Santa experience.
“I do like the colourful lights and whimsical fairy tale displays,” Campbell said as I sat down at our usual table. “It brightens up the dark dreary days.”
“Do you know what day it was yesterday?” I asked Camp, after ordering two frosty mugs from Vicky, who wore a cute Santa hat with a white tassel.
“The 6th of December,” he answered with a curious look.
“Exactly, it was Saint Nicholas Day, commonly known around here as Santa Claus or simply Santa. Where I grew up Santa was a vastly different version than the one Coca Cola and Disney invented.”
“Oh yeah, how so?” Camp asked.
“Santa was a personage that struck fear and terror into the hearts of kids. I used to hide in the farthest corner under the bed in complete dread of the loathsome Santa. He would come into the homes of people where the parents had arranged the visit, dressed in red or blue with a kind of tiara like the pope on his bearded head and usually accompanied by two black robed and hooded servants or helpers. Nasty characters. Santa carried the dreaded black book with all your sins noted in there; how you didn’t listen to your parents, how many times you beat up your sister and how you didn’t do your homework. He would know details of your misdeeds and then meted out appropriate punishments with a whip made out of twigs, according to the wishes of the parents who pre-arranged all that, but we frightened kids didn’t know that. I tell you Camp, Saint Nick’s day was the most dreaded day in all the year. I would get whipped and only then, after the punishment, would Santa’s sinister helpers dispense some goodies like nuts and chocolates.”
“Sounds medieval,” Camp said, shaking his head.
“In Germany and Austria the evil Santa is called Krampus, a cloven hooved demon-like creature who snatches up the worst behaved children, stuffs them into a bag and then carries them off to his mountain lair. Our Santas in Switzerland would occasionally stuff kids into their bag with the threat to take them back to the Black Forest. Every year, kids would die of heart attacks.”
“You’re kidding?” Camp said, almost spilling his beer.
“Remember, this was the fifties and sixties and before anybody heard of the Coca Cola or Hollywood version of Santa. But here comes the good part: We took our revenge to the Santas when we were teenagers. Armed with slingshots and hiding behind snow banks or trees we would wait for the Santas to emerge from their cars. Ducking and dodging our onslaught they would run towards their appointments through a rain of pellets and horseshoe nails. Then we would again wait for their return and attack them again, cat calling and throwing rocks and pepper them with projectiles from our boyish weapons. Most of these Santas were guys who would make a bit of extra cash, some of them drifters and most likely not your best upstanding citizens, if you get my drift. As you can see my Santa experience is somewhat different from here. Every time I see a little boy or girl being forced screaming and crying onto some fat Santa’s lap at the mall I recall those days when we hunted them down.”
“Maybe you should go see somebody about this my friend,” Camp said, “this sounds like some nasty childhood trauma you’re dealing with. Santa psychosis. I can’t imagine. I’ll buy you a beer for that story. I’ll never look at Santa the same way. You managed to completely destroy a picture of perfect bliss and benign good will and replace it with what you call that guy? Krampus? Schmutzli?
We both solemnly looked at the rendition of a jolly red Santa pulled by a slew of cartoon reindeer across the pub’s front window. I do prefer the local version of the tubby gift bearing Santa sliding down a chimney for a welcome of warm milk or a beer to the one I grew up with.
Vicky brought us two foaming mugs and said: “These are on the house boys, compliments from Santa for our regular guests.”
‘How do people on fixed income deal with inflation these days?’ I asked Camp after he got comfortable with a pint in front of him.
‘With difficulty is the simple answer but we both know that being squeezed financially has many ramifications. It can lead to anxiety, fighting, drinking, depression and worse. If you’re income is fixed and the bills double or triple the result is not good.’
‘As rents and mortgage rates double, food bills triple and incomes stay the same, it’s obvious what’s happening. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer.’
‘Rising income and wealth inequality are stoking social discontent and are a major driver of the increased political polarization and populist nationalism that are so evident today. Even if the grocery chains deny profiting from inflation, they’re profits rise simply because the prices are higher. If they make 5% on a $ 10 item before the pandemic, now they make the same 5% on the same item that now costs $ 20. Looks like their profits also doubled.’
‘While $ 10 of a fixed pension now only buys half of the same product as before Covid, which goes to show how depressing this inflation is for many seniors.’
‘Yes, I hear the same from my customers who are finding it more and more difficult to adjust to the rising cost of living, while their pensions stay the same. They have to change their daily routines in order to cope with the harsh reality and to make ends meet and many seniors are seeking help from charitable organisations. They can’t do the things they used to like going out for lunch with their friends or taking in a show or movie because they can’t afford it. Even visiting the grandkids in the city becomes an unwanted expense.’
‘A new report from Food Banks Canada found that this year’s food bank usage is at its highest since the survey started in 1989. Nearly two million visits to food banks in March 2023, up over 30% from the same time last year and over 200’000 of those visits were in British Columbia alone,’ I said.
‘You can blame the high house prices and soaring mortgage rates. Since 2020 nominal house prices have climbed by roughly 40% and fixed-rate mortgage rose from 3.1% to 7.3%, lifting the mortgage payments on a typical house by more than 50%.
‘Vancouver still leads the way as Canada’s most expensive city for renters, with the average one-bedroom unit listed at $2,872 and a two-bedroom at $3,777.’
‘Who can afford that? CMHC (Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation) predicts that in the next 2 years an estimated 2.2 million households will be facing interest rate shock as they have to renew their mortgages, representing 45% of all outstanding mortgages in Canada. In the real world a $ 500’000 mortgage with a five-year fixed rate and a 25 year amortization will go from just under 2% to 5.5% and will represent about a $ 1’000 increase in monthly payments.’
‘Welcome to the future,’ I said.
Ask me how I feel about paying $ 10 for a pint of beer?’
It’s dark at 4:30. It’s November but our corner in the pub is warm and cozy. Camp was already in his chair. ‘I closed up early. No Christmas shoppers yet.’
‘According to recent polls, both Trudeau and Biden are dipping ever lower in public opinion and are blamed for everything that’s wrong: Inflation, the culture wars, the homeless and addiction problems, the high mortgage rates, the housing unaffordability which all fall under the economy umbrella. Name any problem and the incumbents are to blame,’ I said.
‘Yes, I’ve read the same column. Some of the criticism of Trudeau’s economic record is based on perceptions that don’t match reality. David Coletto, chairman of Abacus Data, points out that Canada’s 3.6 percent inflation rate is well below Germany or France and even the US. Similarly, Biden gets no credit for the significant jobs created under his watch. He is also perceived as too old to be president, even though the other contender is only 3 years younger.’
‘Which goes to show that perception is everything. If you’re framed as an old dottery grampa then it’s hard to change that frame.’
‘Inflation and high interest rates are bad for incumbents but the alternative is worse than Trudeau and Biden. We all know about the rabid megalomaniac in the US but Poilievre in Canada is not much better. The first is a nasty liar, cheat and racist, the latter is at best a windsock and at worst a disaster for Canada. He’s an opportunist who has never worked an honest day in his life but he is a savvy social media punter and knows how to attract followers. Not that he has any fresh ideas or visions, far from it. He mostly complains and points out the negatives.’
Camp was already waiting for me and as soon as I sat down, he read me this little speech: ‘Here is one for ages: When the main course for your life’s evening dinner is money and power with a side dish of old age, accompanied by a bottle of your enemy’s blood, what’s for dessert? A bit of hate with some old, ripe grievances? Maybe some hostile revenge with a spot of envy? And when you finally lay down your spinning head full of meds and bad memories what is missing?’.
‘Was that a quote or did you make it up after a bad day at the store?’
‘I had had it written down in my notes. Not sure but the essential question still remains.’
‘You mean what is missing in that cynic’s smorgasbord. Let me think. I would guess the meaning of it all.’
‘The meaning of life?’
‘If you like.’
‘I could go back to Carlyle or Goethe or Schopenhauer or Nietzsche or even Monty Python. They all had plenty to say and speculate about the meaning of life but the essence of life itself surely lies in the fact that we can celebrate it. With dance and art, stories, experiences and memories. The fact that we can overcome obstacles and suffering, illness and disease and live to tell the tale in many forms and mediums surely adds meaning to life.’
‘You’re in a philosophical mood today, Camp. What brought that on?’
‘So, what do you do Camp, if your sworn enemy’s only goal is your destruction. As in the Iranians and by extension Hamas’, Hezbollah’ and any other Jihad’s group’s stated goal. They want the whole state of Israel and its Jewish residents annihilated and their whole country wiped off the map and replaced. It’s what they publicly stated over and over and what prompted the horrendous latest attack on Israeli civilians. Let’s face it Camp it was murder. Indiscriminate, pre-mediated mass-murder of woman and children, concert goers and farmers.’
‘Are you finished? Was that your question? And now you expect me to have the answer? I tell you what you cannot do. You cannot round up a population, half of which consists of children, and hope to find and kill the perpetrators of this horrendous crime. I agree, Hamas should be rooted out, their armed wing destroyed but that will be very difficult, especially if they hide amongst the civilian population or in hospitals, schools and shelters. These holy warriors are fanatics and nothing will deter them from their stated goals, one of which is to die as a martyr in the Jihad and go straight to heaven, into the arms of 72 virgins. Here is a quote I found: Ibn Kathir in his Tafsir of Surah Al-Rahman (55), verse 72, quotes “the Prophet Muhammad saying: ‘The smallest reward for the people of Paradise is an abode where there are 80,000 servants and 72 wives, over which stands a dome decorated with pearls, aquamarine, and ruby.
‘How crazy is that. Which goes to show that religion is the root cause of all evil in the world, closely followed by money and greed. In other words, there are no easy answers but the slaughter has to end at some point. Will some sane people from both sides sit down together and hammer out a path forward? Or will history just keep repeating itself?’
Both, Camp and I, entered our watering hole at the same time, ducking out of the rain. As soon as we sat down, I wanted to know what Camp thought about the latest war in the middle-east.
‘Is there a solution in Palestine? After the massive terrorist attack on Israeli civilians by Hamas, killing over 1400 Israelis, including foreign nationals, it seems that this war will go on indefinitely,’ I said to Camp who was slowly shaking his head.
‘I’ll give you some historical context. When British colonial rule ended in Palestine, in the late 1940s, violence intensified between Jews and Arabs, culminating in war between the newly created State of Israel and its Arab neighbors in May 1948. Tens of thousands of Palestinians took refuge in Gaza after fleeing or being driven from their homes. Then in the 1967 six-day war Israel captured the Gaza Strip. An Israeli census that year put Gaza’s population at 394,000, at least 60% of them refugees.’
A couple of weeks ago, both Alberta’s health minister Adriana LaGrange and BC’s Dr. Bonnie Henry rolled out their fall and winter vaccination plans for influenza and COVID. Although studies have shown that as much as 80 per cent of the population has been infected with the virus, at least once, and combined with the vaccines, there is a good level of immunity. Both, BC and Alberta residents can get the Covid booster in early October.
‘Did you notice that when a reporter asked Premier Danielle Smith and minister La Grange if they would get the booster, they were rather cagey with their answers?’ I asked Camp. ‘Look, I’m a healthy person, I tend to take care of my immune system,” Smith said at a news conference and La Grange echoed her and said: ‘I’m very healthy as well and have a healthy immune system. And you know what?’ she doubled down, ‘I also believe that this is a personal decision for individuals to make.’
‘No surprise there. They are both old school anti-vaccers, Covid deniers and Freedom-Convoy supporters, although they would never say it out loud these days.’
‘Yeah, I get that,’ I said, ‘what really bothers me is that they can be so wrong. It’s not about those two and their healthy immune system. It’s about if they contract the virus and pass it on to somebody vulnerable and compromised. They are just thinking about themselves. Calling the vaccine a personal choice, misses the target by miles. It’s a choice for the health of the community, for the others, for the common good.’
‘You’d think they would get that being politicians and representing their community but they are not alone. Many people mix up personal freedom with bad choices for the community,’ Camp said.
‘Between Sept. 3 and 23, there were 21 confirmed cases of RSV and 52 cases of influenza. For COVID-19, there were a total of 1,470 confirmed cases that resulted in 286 hospitalizations, with 13 ICU admissions. Twenty Albertans died during that three-week period because of COVID.’
‘I read that COVID-19 hospitalizations across Canada have increased since August from nearly 1,500 to more than 2,700 this past week. ‘Are you gonna get the booster,’ I asked.’
‘I probably will. I might even try and get the newly approved Novavax, protein based shot, rather than the mRNA from Pfizer and Moderna. Mix and match. Like Danielle Steel, I’m not really worried about myself but as a book store owner I do get to see a lot of people with health issues and I certainly don’t want to pass anything on if I can prevent it.’
‘Exactly. Not only that. It’s free.’
‘What’s free?’ Rosie asked when she took our empties but forgot to bring a couple of refills.
‘The Covid booster, and the influenza vaccine,’ I said.
‘Oh that. I’ve had Covid twice already and I think I’m immune now.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. Being a server, I would probably be more careful and get all the protection I could. If you get it and pass it on to us two, we won’t be happy.’
‘I shouldn’t have said anything because now Rosie ignored us and I had to get our refills at the bar.’
Camp thought it was funny until I told him I put them on his tab.
‘You’re early today,’ I said to Camp who was already in his place with a pint half full.
‘Slow days at the store. It’s that time between the summer tourists and the Christmas shoppers. I had a pretty good summer. Apparently, people still read. I decided to close early on Thursdays. Also, we’re losing the light. We might want to do our own fall back, like meet an hour earlier.’
‘Fine by me. That way we can stay an hour later.’
Camp gave me a raised eyebrow and closed his phone which was becoming an appendix like a third hand, even to old holdouts like the two of us. We’ve become lazy in other words and rely on Google and Siri for our information. Brave new world.
‘Did you read about this TikTok influencer Linda Lutfiawati in Indonesia who got a two-year jail sentence after a video of her eating pork rinds angered the nation’s top Muslim clerics.’
I just shook my head. ‘Looks like Indonesia is moving towards the stone-age Sharia law, away from the British based common law.’
‘These fascist Muslim clerics seems to rule from Iran to Jakarta, from Yemen to Saudi Arabia, as well as Afghanistan, Pakistan and pretty well all of North Africa,’ Camp said.
‘All of them nasty old men and all of them evil and I’d like to include Narendra Modi who is a nationalist Hindu.’
‘Except one woman who holds her own against these guys. Sheikh Hasina, prime minister of Bangladesh who to her credit has been able to reduce extreme poverty from 25% to 6% since her inception in 2009. And yet she rules with impunity and doesn’t suffer opposition.’
‘I read the New York Times interview with our prime minister. He sounds sane and almost normal when compared to the rest of the world’s leaders. He recognizes that Canadians as a whole are not happy with the state of things: inflation, out of reach real estate, unaffordable rents, out of date drug policies, everything going up except wages and pensions. He knows that people are mad at governments and they are worried. But what worries him – and me for that matter – is that they’re falling into the trap of populism with its simple answers that fit on a bumper sticker or a TikTok video and are driven by disinformation. When people mistrust experts and facts based on science and instead start to listen to a strongman who promises easy solutions for complex problems, then we’re in trouble.’
‘How was your trip with your sister?’ Camp wanted to know when I sat down at our usual table. The holiday crowds seem to have thinned out noticeably.
‘We had a fun time driving around our beautiful little corner of the universe but one aspect of it has me troubled. Every resort we stayed at is owned by the Chinese.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me. Both B.C. and the Canadian government have been wooing Chinese investment. Money is everything.’
‘Yeah, I think you’re right. I did some digging and came up with some astounding facts. Here is a little tidbit from way back in 2015. Chinese homebuyers accounted for nearly one-third of Vancouver’s real estate market during 2015, spending approximately $9.6 billion of the $29 billion of total real estate sales, according to a study by the National Bank of Canada.’
‘The dragons go abroad. Part of Xi’s Belt and Road project. Apparently they are not the best landlords either.’
‘Not in my personal experience. The Harrisson Hotsprings Resort used to be our favorite get away for eagle watching during the salmon runs, for birthdays and bringing our European visitors there. Nowadays it’s run by an unhappy skeleton crew, many of them old timers who have been working there for decades. ‘We’ve had a measly 40c raise in the past 4 years and I cannot wait to retire,’ one tired old server told us. Potential new employees find better paying jobs just across the street at the pub. The latest owner is Aldesta Hotel Group which is owned by Guo Qing Zhang which in turn is owned by Saliance Global Holding, registered in Vancouver. Aldesta also just acquired Fairmont Hotsprings Resort and are a potential bidder for the Pacific Sands Beach Resort in Tofino. They also own Poet’s Cove Resort on Pender Island.Those are just a few of the Dragons acquisitions in B.C.’
Our watering hole is at one end of Gibson’s Harbour next to Molly’s Reach of Beachcomber TV fame, while the other end is flanked by the Gibsons Marina and the Gibsons Public Market, a converted Yacht Club and partially funded by the town’s taxpayers. Between the pub and the Market is a landscape of neglect and construction fencing, grown over swamp and contaminated soil, parking lots and a stalled multi condo construction project. It’s one of the most scenic natural harbours and yet it defies any kind of development, beautification or conceptualization. There is The George, a hotel/condo/spa complex in limbo and surrounded by a temporary construction fence. The only highlight along Gibsons waterfront is Winegarden Park, a popular place for music and gatherings. The park sits right below the grassy knoll, on top of which sits the city hall which overlooks the harbour and it’s neglected waterfront from the prime real-estate in town.
‘Camp, you used to be a counselor. What’s the matter with this town? Why is any kind of waterfront development stalled or cancelled, in limbo because of court challenges or left to grow wild as a home to water front rats, both kinds, the two and four-footed kind. The whole stretch, except for one new, modern house and Winegarden Park, the harbour front is a disaster zone.’
‘It’s when opportunity meets bureaucracy. Some say it’s left to its natural state for the wild life but the only wildlife are the geese, the gulls and the messy river otters but you’re right, there is nothing natural about it. Dredged for marina space, left to grow because of pending re-zoning, missing permits and after Covid, missing developers who – fed up with counsel for stalling their projects – left with their money. You can blame Covid or the Town Counsel, developers or the taxpayers. Fact is, nothing moves in this town. Years ago, there were proposals for a Theatre complex on the town’s land next to the museum and a hotel where the town hall sits which should by rights move up next to the RCMP building, behind London Drugs.’
‘I thought there was a comprehensive development plan in place? A roadmap for the future of the town?’
‘There is,’ Camp said, ‘but it’s only a pretty map with a lot of wishful thinking on it. A myriad of academic studies and a ton of money went into it but in the end, it’s the people with the money and vision who change the waterfront. For better, as the progressive majority supports it or for worse as a small but vocal group point out and stalls. In other words, the old adage rules: Nobody moves and nobody gets hurt.’
‘We’ve both been here a long time Camp and we’ve seen a lot of changes and heard a lot of rumours, about The George, about Molly’s Reach, about the waterfront development but at the end of the day we’re lucky to have this pub by the water and a walkway along the high tide line.’
When Vicky brought around our refills, I had to ask her why she was the only server. ‘Where is everybody? You’re by yourself?’
‘Unfortunately, you’re right. The bar tender quit, one of the cooks is awol and we can’t find any servers. I’m not sure what everybody is doing but they’re not applying for jobs here, even though the money is pretty good what with these high tips these days.’
‘Don’t get me started,’ Camp grumbled, ‘the card-machine starts at 18% tip and goes up to 25%. That includes tipping the tax. I wish I could get a tip for answering questions and letting strangers use the bathroom at the book store.’
‘Would that be cash tonight or would you like the machine?’ Vicky ignored Camp with a deadpan look.
‘Just put it on my tab Vicky, please.’
I left a fiver under my empty pint glass. Just because I don’t ever want to lose her.
You will reap what you sow goes the biblical saying, minus the pests, slugs and birds share. Clare’s garden, although small and contained, only about 500sqft, is producing some decent crops this time of year. It’s by no means a hobby farm, just a plot of manicured and tended dirt.
In the spring we made some decent rhubarb pies and at present we are overloaded with zucchinis and string beans. We eat what we can, give away to our neighbours and friends who graciously accept our gifts of garden bounty even if they don’t like zucchinis. We’ve been feasting on lettuce all summer and the berry crops are enough for our daily cereal. There are a couple of pumpkins growing and some butternut squashes, a few onions and we already harvested the garlic. The cabbages are an experiment and a fight against the moths and slugs and the potatoes didn’t really live up to expectations. The tomatoes love this persistent dry, hot weather and they look like a bumper crop. Together with the basil and the garlic they will make some decent sauce for the winter. We have a canning pot and a few Mason jars and lids. Let’s not forget the spices: Tarragon, parsley, chives, dill, rosemary, thyme and hot peppers grown from our own seeds. We also have a fig tree that looks promising. Add to all that the wild black berries which are everywhere as well as the neighbour’s apples which are free for the taking and the sum total is the season of plenty.
Our pub is crowded but Vicky holds our spots for us and we never disappoint. Like clockwork we show up and quaff our couple of pints most Thursdays. We talk at each other, sometimes with each other, other times around each other and we never run out of topics. Mostly we’re preaching to the choir, reinforcing our points of view, finding common ground in our opinions and ideas. A lot of our talk is driven by current politics, world affairs and the fate and state of our species. Right now, the 400+ raging wildfires in our province are foremost in our minds. We’ve been lucky here at the coast and haven’t had any smoke. So far so good.
Do you ever listen to the New York Times Daily?’ I asked Camp.
‘I’m too busy most days. Unlike you I’m still working and running a bookstore is a fulltime job, especially in the summer with all the tourists. I’m not complaining, just pointing it out.’
‘I listened to a segment the other day, on 4th August. It was about the wildfires. ‘According to David Wallace-Wells, a climate scientist, it is now clear that we are not in charge of nature anymore and that it’s the other way around. Nature is in charge once again and the 30 to 50 million acres of wildfires this summer in Canada are proof thereof. Smoke as far away as New York and Florida.
In Canada alone this year, these wildfires are producing two to three times as much emissions as the entire Canadian economy — all of its infrastructure, all of its energy systems, all of its transportation, all of its agriculture, all of its factories, all of its cars. More carbon is being produced by wildfires this year in Canada than all of those other sources combined. If wildfires were a country, they would rank # 4 after China, Russia and the USA in terms of emissions. ‘The world is a hot potato’ as a friend of mine wrote in a song some 40 years ago.’
‘How do we maintain our sense of humour when faced with disaster and even extinction, although the latter is a longer process?’ I asked Camp when we were both settled in our customary seats at our seaside pub.
‘We can wallow in doom and gloom, moan and groan, feel sorry for ourselves and the whole human race or just get on with it, have a laugh, see the beauty all around us and cherish those close to us.’
‘Are you being serious Camp or is this just a refined form of sarcasm?’
‘No, I’m serious. Without humour and fun, we’re doomed for sure. Laughter is the one free commodity we can take as much of as we want to and the best medicine for depression or just a bad mood. To laugh at oneself is also rather sobering. Nothing quite as ludicrous as taking oneself too seriously.’
‘I guess that’s why it’s called gallows humour. As someone said to me the other day: It is difficult to conceive of any sense of humour about impending extinction.’
‘I suppose we could just give up and resign ourselves to this apocalyptic vision of tomorrow and then what? Life goes on if we like it or not. The human race will probably survive; maybe in the millions rather than billions, maybe we’ll grow palm trees and pineapples here in the Pacific Northwest and Greenland will be green again. Or I can join the new religion where the gospel is that everything from climate change to Covid is a conspiracy.’
We’re in the midst of the endless summer it seems. No rain for weeks and none in the forecast. Vicky has kindly kept our spot reserved and I sat down grateful for the shady corner. When Camp walked in, I first didn’t recognize him I’ve never seen him in shorts. His pasty, spindly legs could use some exposure I thought but didn’t say anything.
‘Over 900 wildfires burning in Canada,’ I said, ‘and over 350 of them in BC. Is this a state of emergency?’
‘It’s snafu,’ Camp said. ‘Situation normal, all fucked up.’
‘I read that the CAF are providing two CH-146 Griffon Helicopters and, if needed, a CC-130J Hercules from the Royal Canadian Air Force, to help with the logistics of fighting all these fires.’
‘So far, most of them are in the central and northern parts of the province but the continued hot weather does not bode well for the rest of the summer,’ Camp said, shaking his head of grey curls.
I’ve been over this theme before with Camp but it refuses to go away. No matter where I look, I read about massive Trump rallies or about a new and conservative rich women’s group calling themselves the ‘Mothers of Victory’ or I watch with dismay the destructive rampage in France or I shake my head at the recent Supreme Court decisions, rolling back decades of liberal decisions, taking away protection for minorities.
Camp was already quaffing his first pint. ‘Must be slow at the book store that you’re here already,’ I said, sitting down.
‘I’ve got summer help, an eager student who loves books. She would work for free just to be in the book store.’
‘You’re paying her I hope.’
‘Of course, I’m not a slave owner.’
‘Did you hear that our former prime minister, Stephen Harper, was in Budapest cosying up to Viktor Orbán, to discuss strengthening the collaboration of right-wing parties? Orbán has also called on Ukraine to concede to Russia, saying Kyiv cannot win the war,’ I said after Vicky brought me some liquid relief.
Bruno's point of view 