In memory of a family friend

Last week, I went to a funeral for a man that I have known since childhood. He was a friend of my Dad's and our travel agent. We were also related through marriage as his brother is married to my dear cousin. Nizar "Nick" Manji died on August 11, 2007. He was one of those adults who was not condescending to kids. He always acknowledged me as a child. This is something children never forget.

When my Dad passed, Nick went out of his way to help us get decently priced tickets back to Ottawa. In those days, there wasn't much competition and a flight to central Canada usually cost around $800. He used some of his personal vouchers so we would not have to pay that much. An unforgettable gesture during a time of horrific grief.

Two years ago, there was a tragic accident on a north shore highway. A logging truck lost its load and a couple of logs went over the median and landed onto a car that was heading in the opposite direction. The driver and passenger, a mother and daughter, were instantly killed. This was Nizar's family. In an instant, they were gone, dying in the most unfathomable way.

Thousands of people came to the funeral. It was a media circus. These deaths shook the Ismaili community and we were out in full force. Understandably, Nick's grief was palpable. However, when I offered him my condolences, he looked at me the same way he did when I was a child. Even in pain, he remembered that kid who used to hang out with her Dad and acknowledged her. That was the last time I saw him alive.

A while back he was diagnosed with cancer. Things happened quickly and now he is gone. His funeral was not the spectacle of his wife and daughter's funeral. It was a simple funeral for a man who lived and then, died.

The Ismaili senator was there. She is friend's with Nick's cousin who seemed to be his primary caregiver. She was minding her grandson. The Senate is on its summer break. She used to be my Mum's lawyer. She has not changed. She looks the same. I had my daughter with me and we talked, mainly about kids. For some reason, she showed me her tattoos. Needless to say, one of them is the maple leaf. It was kind of funny. She seemed uncertain where the lunch would be and asked if she could follow me. Given that I generally don't agree with her politics, I was impressed by her lack of pretense. The tattooed senator was there to support her friend and look after her grandson.

The lunch that followed was an intimate gathering at his apartment complex. We were invited mainly due to our family connection. His brother brought out a couple of albums. One was a scrapbook that Nizar had made to honour his lost daughter. The other was pictures of him with family and friends which seemed to be taken after his diagnosis. These albums, those of us who knew him and were touched by his life are all that remains of his existence. His wife and daughter are gone. An entire family is no more.

I'm not sure what happens after we die. The fantasy is that we reunite with loved ones. While this is a comforting explanation, I just don't know if I can buy it. Mostly, I find comfort in knowing that death means the end of physical and emotional pain and suffering. Nizar no longer has to miss his family and live with the pain of their loss. At long last, I hope that he is at peace.

yet another anniversary blog

So about a year ago, I stopped going to McDonald's. I never thought the day would come. I grew up eating McDonald's. It was the fast food of choice. I remember going there before our major bi-monthly shopping excursions with my Mum and Dad. Mum and I would take the bus to Dad's work and the three of us would go to the golden arches after Dad deposited his pay cheque at the bank. That's how it was done back then. The three of us would eat for less than $10. Mum would never order a full meal for herself, choosing to pick off fries from Dad and me.

Flash forward about 25 plus years. I took my daughter to McDonald's for lunch one day. I ordered one of their chicken salads and found some beef schmutz in it. I complained to a worker who offered to replace it. I asked to speak to a manager. After a long wait, he emerged, quited annoyed that I had bothered him. "It happens, but not a lot," he lamely explained. He was miffed when I asked for a refund. Hope it came out of his pocket! I wrote a strong letter of complaint suggesting that I may notify the local health board or whomever looks into matters of poor food handling. For this, I received an apologetic phone call from some PR hack. I asked her if I would be receiving anything in writing, she informed me that customers much preferred the human contact of a phone call. I was and am curious about how they discerned this fact. Did they ask each complainant at the end of their call if they were satisfied with the response? I can assure you that I was not. My guess is that their crack legal team has advised them never to put anything into writing. It might suggest culpability.

A month later, we decided to try another McDonald's after we were running late for lunch and there was little else around. This time, I was told that I had to buy my daughter a toy with her Happy Meal. Apparently, this piece of plastic is what makes kids happy. I am sure it does the same for stockholders. Again, I asked to speak to the manager, who basically shouted at her staff to inform me that my only other option was to buy a dessert or forfeit the money. She could not be bothered talk to me directly and certainly would not share her name. This time I called the PR woman who had called me previously about my complaint. She was not there, but someone else listened to my wrath and said that the matter would be dealt with swiftly. A few hours later, a very contrite manager from yet another McDonald's called me. He had been mistakenly told that I had had my issue with his restaurant. Regardless, he apologized and offered to send me gift certificates for my next meal. I advised him that I would not be dining there again. He insisted and took my address, etc. I figured I'd pass them along to my Mum. Needless to say that the certificates have yet to manifest. For the first time in more than thirty years, I have not eaten at McDonald's for an entire year.

Is my absence hurting their business? Likely not, although I have heard that their business is down. Simply a coincidence. Perhaps. I'd like to think of it as karma, but of course, that would be bad karma. I would like to say that the void of Rotten Ronnies in my life has been filled with healthy nosh. Not so much. Fast food abounds. We hit White Spot a lot more than we used to and their fast food satellite Triple Os. I saw Morgan Spurlock's Supersize Me at some point during the year and am glad that I have cut out McD's from my life. Now, I need to stop with all the other less than healthful food. This will likely happen soon.

On an unrelated note, Merv Griffin died today from prostate cancer. He was 82. I obviously did not know the man. We shared a birthday. I remember watching his show in the afternoons when I was a kid. I think that he and Mike Douglas and even, Dinah Shore are responsible for my love of talk shows. They just don't make them like that anymore. Now, it's all about gimmicks and giveaways, the talk has all gone. RIP Merv!

The Anniversary Blog

Happy 12th Anniversary to my dear husband Jim! My how time flies! It seems like yesterday we were just hanging out at the Oak, and baby, look at us now!

Saw Sicko this week. It made me ill. The travesty that is the American health care (or rather lack of care) system is beyond belief. So much unnecessary suffering whilst the powers that be continue to line their pockets with money -- money that is soaked in blood. This seems to be the only kind of money that the politicos, especially in the States are interested making. Iraq anyone?

Michael Moore contrasts the American system with the British, French and Canadian health care systems. All are far better, although he does simplify matters for the masses. Just as I know that our health care system in Canada is flawed, I suspect that there are problems in the British and French systems too. Nonetheless, these seem minor in comparison to what our neighbours south of the border must endure. The real irony of this film is that it isn't about those without health care coverage, but rather about those who are "covered" and yet are consistently denied. Profit, profit, profit people and we just don't care who dies.

We are off to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix tonight. This is what happens when you get older. No sexy foreign films for us! Harry's been all the rage as of late with the release of the final book, about which I may have been spoiled. Oh well, perhaps I will forget. I admire J.K. Rowling for her savvy in parlaying the Potter books into such an empire. However, I cannot help but being saddened by the fact that years ago when asked why she didn't make her protagonist a female, she said that she had long recognized that such a book about a girl wouldn't sell. That is such a tragic reflection on the subtle sexism that women/girls continue to face in our so-called progressive societies.

Speaking of sexism, we have just completed our first week of a civil strike in Vancouver. The city's library workers walked out this week too. The main issue is wage parity. Apparently, the wage gap between library workers who are primarily women and the city's outside workers who are predominantly male, is about 20 per cent. It galls me that this is still happening. It galls me further that folks don't realize that women are still very far from being equal in every way. The uncollected garbage is not the only thing that stinks here.

Death, Celebration and the damn phone company

It's been an interesting week for me.  I was haunted by the death of Shemina Hirji, an Ismaili woman who was killed "allegedly" during a violent home invasion.  Interestingly, nothing was taken from the home and her husband only sustained minor injuries.  His violent, criminal past has come to light.  My suspicions and those of everyone else grow. 

In his past, he attempted to kidnap and uttered vicious threats against his ex-finacee and her family.  He served close to two years in prison for that.  Now, five days after marrying Shemina, she is killed under suspicious circumstances. Did Shemina know about his past?  No one is certain, but most assume not.

Along with about 3,000 others, I attended the funeral.  I did not know Shemina, but her face was so familiar.  Turns out that we were at SFU at the same time.  She finished a year before me.  I am certain that I had seen her up there and about.  I also went out of a sense of community.  The Ismaili community is one that I still feel connected to, but perhaps not a part of.  I am always welcome there.  Mostly though, I think I went because my feminist instincts necessitated that I do so.  For every woman killed at the hands of a man, I must grieve, before I can stand and fight. 

The next day was the Aga Khan's Golden Jubilee celebration.  This time 14,000 local Ismailis congregated to honour and celebrate 50 years of Imamat.  I went out of peer pressure.  I went out of curiousity.  I went to make my mother happy.  I went for a fleeting connection to community. 

It was the hottest day that Vancouver has had and wouldn't you know it, BC Place has no air conditioning.  It was cooler outside.  But the Ismailis are organized, so they had fans going, as well as bottled water and cardboard fans as giveaways.  It was nice to see some familiar faces.  Those who have aged and those who remain forever young.

My ongoing stressor for the week has been Telus.  They sent me a letter offering me one thing and yet refusing to give it to me saying that there was a misprint and today, that the offer has expired.  I am pissed.  It's more as sense of justice than anything else.  Besides, they have phoned me every day this week, including this morning where I was woken up on the one day I am allowed to sleep in.  Oy to the veh!

The Birthday Blog

Well here it is, my 39th birthday.  Already, many readers have turned off.  Who is this old chick doing a blog?  Pretty soon, there will be knitting patterns and recipes.  I can safely assure you that knitting patterns, tips or other related matters will likely never appear on this blog.  Recipes, perhaps, but usually I am too lazy to type them out.

Watched the news before I went to bed.  Bad idea.  Ismaili woman was killed in a "home invasion".  She had just married this past weekend to a Punjabi man.  His family opposed the union.  The media and I infer the same conclusion.  At least, I recognize that my perspective is racially constructed.  They just continue in their maintenance of the status quo.

Six Canadian soldiers died in a roadside bomb day before yesterday.  More senseless death due to a senseless war.  Is anyone still looking for Osama Bin Laden?  I am pretty sure given my three-year-old increasing proficiency at hide-and-go-seek, she could find him before the Bushman's people do.  In the meantime, so-called "peacekeepers" (although no more) from Canada continue to die.

The American president commuted "Scooter" Libby's jail sentence.  Another criminal is set free by the Bush administration.  Keith Olbermann did a great op ed rant about  the whole situation, concluding that even Nixon was patriotic enough to resign.  Bush is too much of a nitwit and Cheney is far too greedy.  Both are too arrogant.  Why are the American people so apathetic?  Is it there lack of choice?  Indecision 2008 looms.  The world must hold its breath, or perhaps its nose.

I share my birth date with GWB.  This causes me no end of consternation.  However, I also share it with the Dalai Lama.  I am the intersect of good and evil.  Perhaps, I am its true axis.

Got the husband unit to take the day off so we can all head to the beach.  I hope to get some sleep as tomorrow night (tonight), we shall eat.

Went for my soul sister's birthday to the Cannery.  They printed our names on the menus, gave us balloons and dessert.  We had a lovely time.  Those of us who had the salmon did end up with a ticklish tummy.  A sign of age perhaps...

Happy Birthday to me!

Tracy Chapman in my head

Last night I heard the screaming,

Behind the wall.

Another sleepless night for me,

It doesn't do no good to call, the police.

Always come late, if they come at all.

This is the song I hear in my head when I hear my next door neighbours fighting/yelling. Tonight, I saw the man kicking his grown daughter. I had seen his wife doing so a few years back. I called the police on them earlier in the year when the screaming went on for a long time. The cops did come. Fairly quickly, I might add. I probably live in a better neighbourhood than the one TC lived in when she wrote that song. Earlier this week, loud crashes woke us up at around three in the morning. Found out later that the neighbours two doors down had their car windows smashed in whilst parked in the alley way. Perhaps this 'hood is not as good as I like to believe.

We live in the city and these are the vagaries of doing so. It's a bit much for one week. I am wracked with guilt for not doing anything about tonight's incident. I am a feminist and I should stand up for this woman. I have in the past. The neighbour works for the RCMP and I am afraid of payback. Calling the cops once was nerve-wracking enough. I hope that the girl finds a strength to move out. I hope the boys (sons of the father and mother) do not believe that this is the way to treat women and/or one's relations. I noticed a broken window. I wonder what transpired. Did the girl/woman break the window out of frustration? Anger? The cycle seems to continue in that family. Even the dog is angry, or perhaps just scared. I know he'd be happier with us. Perhaps he has created this fantasy for himself and that's why he barks so much when he sees us.

Lurking, not posting

So I have not be writing for about two months.  The idea of a blog still seems odd to me.  What is revealed and what is not.  I have been following the trials and tribulations of my "pretend friend" Rosie O'Donnell quite attentively on her blog and the in the environs of the interweb.  I like to head over and see what his Pinkness has to say about the pretend people.  However, his devotion to Britney and attention to Paris have been a bit much to handle as of late.

I keep thinking that I need a lot of time to post, but really, I just need to make time for it to happen.  I get distracted.  My latest distraction is Chuzzle.  I think I am quite addicted.  The irony is that I don't seem to be as good at it as I was when I first started playing it.  Oh well!

I think I complained about Wild Garlic in my last entry and wouldn't you know that it is no more.  It's now some Transylvanian restaurant.  Only in Vancouver.  I like to think that I had something to do with the closure, but I suspect that it was on the outs for a while.  Perhaps I just put the nail in the coffin.  Did I say "coffin" and "Transylvania" at the same time?  Hmm...  Perhaps I need another Buffy fix.  Have asked for the Season Eight comics for my birthday which is in a couple of weeks.

We went to the Kitsilano Wrap Zone for our Thai-tanic wraps with hot sauce.  Sadly, all that we could taste was the hot sauce.  Yeow!  Decided on a lite dinner so that we could go all out for dessert at Sweet Obsession.  Unfortunately, I was not as happy with my dessert as I had hoped to be.  Also, we ended up sitting amidst some very loud people and my buddy's voice is so quiet I could hardly hear anything.  And if the Dude sitting next to us is reading, TURN OFF YOUR DAMN CELLPHONE!!!  You are not that important and if you are, you shouldn't be having dessert out!

Father's Day is this weekend.  I think we shall drop kidzilla off at my Mum's and head out for a pseudo-date of lunch and a movie.