Last week I was required to read Journey for Justice; Mike McIntyre's book chronicling the murder of Candace Derksen, her killer's trial 26 years later and how her family coped with their devastating loss. I'm required to write a blog post on this assignment. I'm required to think about murder, justice, forgiveness, and death.
And... that's not a bad thing.
I find it hard though. Right now, outside my window the sun is warm and children are playing. Hank the cat is rubbing his face on my leg. Somewhere else in the world someone was just shot. A young girl was just raped. Horrible things are happening. Right now. It makes you - it make me anyways - think some dark thoughts about humanity. About the future...
Part of the reason I left The Faith was inability to reconcile a loving, all powerful god with terrible things happening to innocent people. That wasn't the case with Wilma Derksen (clearly) whose faith (in part) sustains her through the ongoing tragedy of having her daughter taken from her. I thought about asking her if she's forgiven god. I didn't. Coward.
We don't often do things that make us uncomfortable. Even when we know we should. Even when we crave the prize that lies on the other side of action. Why? What can we possibly be afraid of, especially compared to the real horrors that are haunting the world?
So here's a deal I'll make with you, good reader. Give me something uncomfortable to do. Something that will stretch me, grow me as a person. Something along the lines of:
Because being given something to do as a 'requirement' seems to be the best way to get me to do something. And in a very, very small way, I think it honours the dead: living as rich a life as possible for as long as we have that option...
WARNING - This blog post is introspective and sincere. For those who prefer edge, snark and inappropriate humour with their blog post, might I recommend the Professor Brothers' take on Bible History - classic.
I attended the Bruce Park service this past Remembrance Day and watched my father stand at attention with his fellow 402 Squadron members. Memories of services from my childhood - on bases and schools across the country - came back all through the programme. Afterwards, I realized I had never actually thanked my father for his service. That's been fixed now.
In the invocation, Major Brian Slous included these words.
"What we value is preserved by a very thin line. Many standing here have stood on that line. Many have died on that line. Some bear the wounds of having stood on that line. It is a place we are all called to stand. If we fail to stand on that line - to preserve what is good and right - their sacrifice is in vain."
The St. James Cenotaph in Bruce Park
Earlier in the week, Marc Reid from Canada's History Magazine spoke to my CreComm class about Canadian history (shocking, I know). Among other things, he reminded us that in World War I over 600,000 Canadians served and one tenth of that number (over 60,000) died. He painted a picture of trench warfare where, at the sound of a whistle, troops would climb out of the safety of their trenches/holes and make a run at enemy lines - enemy lines defended by machine guns. Seven out of ten soldiers, he said, would be gunned down in the first few seconds. They'd retreat and try again. And again. And again.
Marc spoke about how this sacrifice made Canada a nation: we gained respect from other world powers, took pride in our own fighting forces and found a sense of accomplishment as a people. Which is all very true.
But it doesn't change how stupid, wasteful and monstrous it all was. 60,000 dead, never mind the wounded, the shell shocked. And that was just one country in one war...
***
Which leads me to the subject of children.
The wife and I have been chatting about future plans - what we'll do when I get out of school, home renovations, etc. And children have come up as a debatable subject. Because she is all for them and I am not. I think they're loud, messy, time-consuming, schedule-wrecking, expensive, disease riddled. (Actually I started a blog with WJT Artistic Producer Michael Nathanson last year, debating the merits back and forth - the blog went kaput due to both of our busy schedules, but you're welcome to read Kids Versus Cats).
The subject came up over tea at Cousin's on Remembrance Day evening. My wife pointed out that all of my 'cons' have equal and opposite 'pros' - kids can be inventive, funny, inspirational, problem-solving, cute, generous wonders.
What finally emerged was a discussion of our attitudes. I am a pessimist. A depressed, artistic pessimist who thinks people are born selfish. I don't have a lot of hope we'll solve global warming or recent economic troubles - not when people in power have an interest in maintaining the status quo. And 60,000 young men died for one country in one war. Why would I want to bring anyone into a world like ours?
My wife asked me to watch the video below for her response. She's clever like that - and very, very patient with me. I've watched it a few times now. It's convincing, though I'm not sure I'm convinced...
Major Slous' words are also weighing on me. Is it my duty to be optimistic?
