Restless now. Really for months, an urge
a need, to do something. Feel something.
An interest in objects, as much as anything.
Certain things mark a time. A sugar bowl, a
cookie tin; items, almost sacred. Empty, at
a glance, yet brimming with moments.

Grandmother long gone, she now finds
herself in a place. Voices. Ushered forward
by a child, young woman now, and held back
by memories. Her flesh, her blood, those
who raised her. Comfort. Restless still.
Words and thoughts, she wants to write.

She wants to write, but never has. Not like
this. Father’s firm disposition, a mother’s
tenderness, a voice that softened her reality.
She wants to write, like she wants to believe.
Decisions made, not regretted, but pondered.
The ink is fresh, the pen permanent.

A snap of memories, broken, diminished joys
not of parenthood, but of partners. She wants to
write about love; past and present and perhaps
more. She wants to write like she wants to breathe.
Ink flows smoothly. Her blood. History always
an interest, this is more personal.

Shameless, blameless admissions, only to herself
and a page presenting itself as a stranger. Now
it offers its skin as a lover. The smooth, thick pen,
heavy and hard between her fingers, finds a rhythm.
An object desired. She wants to write, like she
wants to feel. She has, and will again.

Never like this. Minute details reiterate her faults. The
pen’s nib, ever constant, captures lives left behind,
but still within. If only her heart, if not in her life.
The pen moves forward, she still there. Now. Every
letter, each stanza reveals a voice. A need.
She wants to write, like she wants to bleed.

©2015 j.g. lewis

©2015 j.g. lewis

I just bought a new turntable. My last one simply wore out, as they tend to do (in my experience). I’ve owned five turntables in my lifetime. They all, essentially, do the same thing; they turn round and round and play my beloved records.

I listen to a lot of music, and over the decades I have changed, replaced, or upgraded each individual component of my stereo system many times. I have blown out speakers and blown up amplifiers, updated tape decks and equalizers and switched out receivers and compact disc players, but the precious turntable has outlasted them all. They have all served me well.

The most surprising thing about my most recent purchase is I actually bought the equipment at an actual stereo store. I’m not a big online shopper and I believe that turntables, like shoes, need to be touched and tried out before purchase.

Thing is, there are not a lot of actual stereo shops in existence, even in this country’s largest city. The couple of stores that I knew of have closed down in the last five years, and it seems this pandemic has closed a couple more.

There are those big-box electronics stores where you can get computers, wall-sized televisions, vacuums and, I suppose, turntables, but I wanted to test a few, listen, and ask questions of somebody who knew what they were talking out.

I had gone into a record store where they had a small range of equipment, but staff were unable to inform me of the wow or flutter rate, the anti-skate capabilities, or even if they were direct drive or belt-drive components.

So, I drove way across town to an independent shop that has been in business for more than 30 years. Yes, over the years the store has changed with the trends, particularly as home theatre became more of a need, want, or demand in the market place. But, this place still sold stereo systems, and components, and had a great selection of turntables.

Technology has changed greatly through the decades, but when it comes down to it, a turntable is a weighted platter spinning a record at a controlled speed with the needle at the end of a tone arm pulling the magic from the grooves in a slab of vinyl.

The salesman, who was about my age, knew the importance of the turntable, recognized what I was looking for, and answered all my questions. He even played a favourite record of mine from 40 years ago.

I was sold. I probably spent more than I thought I would, but appreciated this investment once I got it home and hooked up. It sounds great. It should last a decade or two. I hope.

I sincerely doubt that, when it comes time to replace this turntable, there will be stereo stores anywhere on the retail landscape. If there is, will there be salesmen around who know the product and the purpose as well as this guy did?

Globalization was once the buzzword of politicians, business leaders and various masters of the universe; a term used to signify the potential for growth and prosperity sold to us, at one time, as a most favourable destination.

We, as a society (and not only that of the Western world), bought into the theory, the practice, and then the reality. We began to think past local, provincial and national, and began to look globally.

Now, amidst the expansion and contraction of rationalizations and realizations, we can only question if we have come too far too fast. The stress cracks have been noticeable over the past few decades as economies merged and borders vanished.

At one point everything looked good and the potential for peace and promise became more than possibility. We began to see the world respond to the tragedies and calamities on the other side of the globe. As technologies increased and access to a greater range of media became more readily available, we began to see results as everything, everywhere, became virtual reality as swiftly as it was broadcast.

There was a wave of kindness and charity countering a tsunami, and worldwide aid rushing in response to drought and famine, and terrorism. You could, many times over, have greater faith in humankind, and could believe, over and again, that the world was growing smaller and we were becoming this global village often talked about.

Our virtues and values were fortified. We both celebrated and commiserated with strangers. Commonalities with people of other places, faiths, and circumstance, became obvious and readily available. ‘Friends’ took on a new meaning.

But with any group of people, in any limited space, the walls started closing in. We now see, at closer range, the faults of our newfound brethren. Jealousies, differences, and indifference, grew more common as forthright opinion filled our minds and media.

We could see it, hear it, loathe it, and then (with such easy access to this amazing thing called the Internet) complain about it.

Day to day in the globalized news, we are bombarded with concerns, conspiracy theories, innuendo, false truths and alternative facts. We quickly learn about this planet’s atrocities before the bloodstains have even dried on the sidewalks or prayer rugs. We listen to the firsthand hatred of the bigots and bullies with the frequency of weather forecasts.

And if you listen to it long enough, or deeply enough, you become sucked into the realm of anxiety and fear.

The cracks on the surface have never been more obvious and we find ourselves wondering where it can take us, and what should we do.

We can’t turn it off, it seems. Those who want to make their views known can do so with the do-it-yourself social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook, and they can do so with an unwritten protocol and mispronounced shame.

I, too, can and do, right here. But, I like to think I exercise responsibility if not common sense and respect. I can’t say everyone has the same sort of moral compass. I can also be ignored, or avoided, if that is your choice.

It is difficult to avoid the proliferation of bullshit and bad judgement that seeps through the cracks of the conveniences we have come to rely upon. It is impossible to think of simply steeping away from the virtual behaviour that has become an integral part of our lives. We source our news online, we shop online, bank online, we communicate and carry on online.

Now, while this planet is screaming with pain, is not the time for complacency, but more a time to be more selective with what you read or follow. There are things happening that will impact our lives in ways we cannot fathom, and you should not be swayed by image and entertainment value.

Take stock of what is important to you. Find channels or themes that might bolster your spirits rather than deplete your emotional well-being. You cannot settle with only what is on the surface, but don’t get caught in the cracks.

© 2017 j.g. lewis

by Angela Felzmann

I am Canadian. Let me say it again; I. AM. CANADIAN.
I am a Calgarian, born and raised.
I’m all for protests, expressing views, righting of wrongs and advocating justice, humanity, values and purpose. Protests: I have attended many myself but they have all been peaceful. I protest to raise a point, and point out concerns.
But what is happening right now in Ottawa is not peaceful. This is not a rally call about equal rights or freedoms. This is about people demanding entitlement and privilege without having any responsibility of contributing towards the safety of society. This is about a pandemic, and a virus, that keeps our health care system under duress, People in hospital are dying.
Vaccination will be the only way to get a hold of COVID-19, just as vaccinations have been relied on to protect all of us (yes, worldwide) from other illnesses that have threatened human life.
Nothing good will come of this “freedom” movement. Canada is better than this, and we deserve so much more.
Recently, a battle of words and wills, rationalizations and justifications spilled onto my Facebook page and, in the end, there was no answer to questions I posed.
What is this “Truckers For Freedom” convoy really going to really do in Ottawa and beyond.
What is their plan?
Are they looking for a Canadian insurrection of sorts? Let’s be honest, the US insurrection was a disgraceful mess.
Do these “Truckers for Freedom” not realize the USA also require mandated vaccines for truckers at their borders too? It’s not just Canada. What is the convoy going to do in Ottawa? What is their plan?
Are they going to try and hold Prime Minister Justin Trudeau hostage?
Is it their intent to make supply chain issues worse than what they are?
What is the goal?
Unless they can provide clear answers, I have no desire to engage in a war of words, views, or wills on my Facebook page. We will have to respectfully agree to disagree.
But is not enough for some. Race is an issue that continually creeps to the surface. I have explained about my stance regarding white nationalists and separatists and, instead, they flooded my page with comments about love. I’ve seen other posts online about all the love in these protests and I just shake my head in disbelief and shame.
I was even asked if I was familiar with the theory of confirmation bias. A bit hypocritical I thought (especially given the subject matter). Seriously, I’m brown. I’ve been actively involved in what’s been happening with world politics for the last 10 years.
Yes, I’m familiar with confirmation bias, just as much as I am with unconscious bias and race theory. I dare suggest those that doubt may want to educate themselves of all the bias theories – where they originate and how we use them for our narratives. It’s the understanding and awareness of these theories, and how and when we rely on them, which brings about effective influence in these kinds of matters.
People supporting this “freedom” movement need to have their eyes wide-open and pay attention. The people organizing this “trucker” convoy all have ties to ultra-right wing white nationalist groups. There is a reason this ideology is labeled as dangerous.
You have your rights and freedoms. It is your choice to want to ignore a virus that’s impacted the entire world. To put your wants above public health is not fair. Going to a movie, dining inside a restaurant, taking in a concert, partaking of sporting events or getting a haircut aren’t part of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
This does not constitute enslavement of any kind.
You all still have food, clothing, a home, heat, clean water, your children still have their education, and you are all able to receive medical care. Vaccinated or not. No one has taken these inalienable rights away from you.
It seems to me, they know nothing of what being oppressed and controlled is. xThis is not China. There’s been no Tiananmen massacre. This is not South Africa where apartheid ran corrupt, rampant and unchecked for the police and government officials. This is not Afghanistan, there is no Taliban reign of terror or repression of living life. This is not Germany where a holocaust has wiped out millions of people because they are Jewish. There are no concentration camps or firing squads.
You all need a history lesson of what communism, tyranny and absolute control of government is. We don’t know because this is Canada. Ask the Rawandans, the Blacks or the Jewish, what oppression, enslavement, and having your rights stripped away from you are.
Don’t you dare compare yourselves to the victims or survivors of these atrocities because you are required to get a vaccine to stop the COVID-19 virus from spreading further.
Get over yourselves and do the right thing. Get vaccinated. If you continue to choose not to get vaccinated, that is your choice, but stop whining and demanding your “right” to move about society freely.
In deciding not to get vaccinated, you are a greater risk to the community at large.
The only way we will get ahead of this thing is through vaccination. And while the virus mutates and there will be further variants to contend with, it may very well be that we will take booster shots for years to come, as well as wearing masks. Get over it, or stay home and live in the limited bubble the laws permit you to. You decide.
Politics is an ugly game; corruption, hypocrisy, and contradictions abound (certainly there is no lack of it). This protest targets Trudeau in an alarming way. I challenge you all to say that your disdain is misdirected. He has done a lot for Canada and the provinces during all of this, and I scoff thinking what dire straights we would be in should we have a Conservative party in control of our federal politics.
Look closely at what your provincial leaders have failed to do and how they have contributed to the poor handling of all of this. I can’t speak to other provinces, but I can tell you that Alberta has taken a huge hit in the cost of living. There have been cuts to all public services, housing, and post secondary education, and a governmental will to destroy our mountains and water for coal and for pennies. Indeed, people are struggling to make even the basic of needs met or keep their head above water. There is no Alberta Advantage to be had here.
Take a good look at the Conservative leaders saying they support the truckers. They swear they disavow the extremists out of one side of their mouth, but support your cause at the same time, while wanting you all to get the booster. Think about that.
These “truckers” have gained some bad press for behaving disrespectfully towards a war memorial and the Terry Fox statue. Stop it. Act with some dignity and pride.
But finally, let me say, I am so impressed to see how united Canadians can be and how much they want to fight for something they think is right.
How fast this all came together and the amount of money raised for this cause is admirable. But this is not a cause I can support because of the organizer’s hateful ideology.
Imagine what a force we could be should we decide to stand up for worker rights, for a living wage, for our health care workers and all other front line staff, for appropriate funding of public supports, services and resources. Now, that’s something I would be all over.
Nothing good will come of this “freedom” movement. Canada is better than this. And we deserve so much more than this misrepresentation of our country.

©2022 AngelaFelzmann

Angela Felzmann is a frustrated writer living in Calgary, Alberta.

   Snowflakes. Only movement.
        Twilight comes until twilight goes.
      Daylight leaves too early. Swiftly.
      The deeper the night, the colder
           the darkness.

My January breath suspended,
         my thoughts wishing to go
    somewhere. Anywhere, other
        than here. A deafening
           winter silence.

       The air is slow. Still. Almost.
            Alone, even in the shadow
            of the streetlamps. Nobody to
                shield your ears from the cold
          or dampen the inevitable.

Pointless the task, reviewing patterns
    and paths carved into the cartography of
      the ego. Realization. What once was
            may never be. This season
               stays the longest.

Even with full sunlight. The wind,
    should it decide, rips through me.
Harsh. I am not here. Not really.
            Permanent as my
                 January breath.

Flurries obscure constellations and
the Moon. Isolation. The circumference
         of my being is reduced, Limited.
            Blinded by temporal beauty,
         or tears.

   Nothing has happened, or is
        happening. The brazen chill
   clashes with body heat, the atmosphere
       the victor. Obvious. The world
              still gets in your eyes.

Time agape with a grey known only
      to the night. A solitary trek through the
      ordinary. Undisturbed. Each step resonates
           the soul-crushing scream
   of a thousand snowflakes.

      Beneath winter’s fickle façade, the ice
   cracks, The fragility of the planet apparent.
Vulnerable. Each season has precious moments.
            Gone. Time stands still. This is
                   my January breath.

©2015 j.g. lewis