Category Archives: Thoughts

Consider, Issues, Poverty

I am so poor …

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… I can’t even afford a free automobile.

I found myself dealing with this twisted irony of poverty: that for those living in poverty the cost of a free car is prohibitively expensive.

Now one would think that ‘free car’ and ‘prohibitively expensive’ are mutually exclusive phrases. Not so for those who are living in poverty, or the poorest in our wealthy society.

When fate offered me a new to me car that is younger and in better shape than my 1987 Duster it was this reality I found myself facing.

For me and others a car is a wellness tool that is integral to recovery by allowing us to be involved in programs, community, part-time employment etc as we seek wellness and to become self-sufficient. It is having a car that permits me to be as involved in the community (Abbotsford) as I am and to work; to get to and from a variety of widely spaced locations in a timely manner that is just not possible with the current bus system in Abbotsford.

When the Duster was incapacitated for almost a week while I dealt with an alternator replacement it had a devastating effect on my life. I became housebound and isolated which was not only unproductive but was/is a situation detrimental to my mental health.

Sunday evening the phone rang and I was offered a 1991 Cavalier which had to be moved out of the apartment parking lot by Tuesday, Tuesday being both the last day of the month and moving day.

My first thought was not of the costs associated with a free car but of Fate. The last time I was offered a great deal on a car, the faithful Duster, I said ‘No thanks’. Within ten days the VW was not running and the cost of repairs was well beyond my means. It was only luck that the Duster was still available for me to purchase.

With the offer of a “free” car my first thought was that the offer meant the Duster was on its last legs if I said no to the Cavalier and kept driving the Duster. Even now, days later, I am hesitant to tempt fate by abandoning the Cavalier even with the headaches and problems that have come along with getting it running and on the road.

It was sober second thought that considered the cost associated with getting the “free” Cavalier on the road.

I found myself on the horns of a dilemma; offered a car in better shape and with a (probable) longer life than the Duster, but I could not cover the expense of getting a free car.

My budget is such that at the end of the month, next months rent and my bills are paid and I have $20 to spend as I choose. I estimated I would need a minimum injection of $2001 into my budget to get the Cavalier on the road.

Though I had no plan for where the $200 would or could possibly come from I said Yes.

Not automatically saying no, feeling the fear and doing it anyway, is a measure of progress into recovery and wellness. It was not that many years ago that confronted with such an offer and such a situation a panic attack would have been triggered.

So I found myself at 2:30 AM, very early Monday morning, contemplating not only the logistics of getting the car out of the apartment garage by Tuesday evening but where I was going to find the money to cover the costs of the ‘free car’.

During my 25 years as a Chartered Accountant in public practice and business $200 was pocket change. Now, a $40 oil change is a major budget item that must be planned for and for which money must be set aside to pay.

Until I experienced it (an experience I would gladly end) I had no idea or appreciation for just how grinding poverty is on someone. Poverty grinds away at you physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually; grinding you down and down, robbing you of will and spirit.

The plan that I came up with was to ask for help in the form of a loan or loans and I sent out an email request explaining the situation; the backup plan was panhandling.

It turned out that while I may be living in poverty with respect to money, I have a richness of people in my life that will help me out. By the time I got up the next morning and checked my email for any replies to my request for help I had offers that covered the $200.

It turned out that obtaining the $200, which I had seen as the major obstacle, was the easy part.

Once I had the $200 in hand the Testing and Lessoning began. Testing? Lessoning? Every so often it seems as if the Universe feels the need to test my progress on my journey of recovery and wellness and/or teach lessons I need to progress on that journey.

And so the Saga of the Cavalier began in earnest.

Unfortunately the Universe seems to deal with me in a manner in keeping with my own skewed sense of humour and the absurd. Giving one the impression the Universe is playing with my head in an absurdist assault on my Sanity.

I met with the owner and picked up the signed documents needed to transfer the car to me… at least in theory. Arriving at the insurance broker revealed the registration papers were missing. A phone call determined they were lost, requiring a trip to the seller’s insurance agent to secure a new registration.

Quickly zipping the seller back to the move and with registration in hand I returned to the insurance agency only to find out that a correction made on the transfer document made the document invalid. Being a legal document ICBC insists that the transfer document be perfect.

Filling out a new transfer document, with a great attention to detail, I once again returned to the seller to get the new (and perfect) transfer document signed.

Returning to the insurance office I got a 3 day insurance permit since a 3 day permit was cheaper than 2 permits good for a single day. The Cavalier had to be moved Tuesday but it was now late on Tuesday and with Wednesday being Canada Day the Cavalier could not be run through AirCare until Thursday.

Armed with the insurance permit I sent out a request for someone to meet me at the owner’s old apartment building to jumpstart the Cavalier; being grateful that, considering the delays, I had not scheduled this activity.

Mr. Doug answered my appeal but in order to jumpstart the car, we had to push the Cavalier out of the garage as his truck was too tall to fit in the garage. It took patience to get the car started and running since it had been sitting for a year, but we succeeded.

Getting the car started revealed the car was a 5 speed. Fortunately I not only can drive a stick, but prefer it over an automatic. Happily Doug provided an escort back to my place; in the process providing jumpstarts as needed (ie after a stop to add fresh gas to the tank – which helped the car to run better).

He also, most kindly, returned latter that evening with a battery charger to breathe some life into the dead battery.

I spent Wednesday afternoon making hats, bookmarks and/or colouring while volunteering at the Canada Day celebrations after which I went home and took the Cavalier out for run in preparation for AirCare the next day.

Thursday morning Cavalier barely started, demonstrating the battery’s inability to hold a charge overnight. After taking the Cavalier out for a highway runI proceeded directly to AirCare where the Cavalier passed muster.

Having several places I needed to be from noon on I did not get the plates and insurance until late Friday afternoon; which turned out to be lucky.

With the plates on I limped to auto wreckers in search of a used battery. Alas there were no appropriate batteries at the auto wreckers forcing the purchase of a reconditioned battery. With the battery installed I thought that that was that, that I was done. It developed the Universe was not through with the Saga of the Cavalier and I.

Saturday I found I could not remember whether or not Thursday had been payday. Given the way things were going with respect to the Saga of the Cavalier, I decided that it would be wise to check that there was enough money in the bank to cover the insurance.

Checking revealed a $25 Cr(edit) balance. As an accountant a credit represents a debt owed, so I thought I needed to find money enough to cover not only the insurance tab, but the $25 Cr overdraft.

Making for a pleasant surprise when, after cashing cans, raiding my piggy bank etc I returned to deposit $70 I had managed to scrap up. I could have danced a jig out the door when the teller’s statement of the account balance reminded me that a Cr was the bank recording the money it owed me and that after depositing the $70 there were sufficient funds to cover the insurance charge.

As I said, it turned out to be lucky I was running late on Friday since the insurance charge against my bank account was not processed until Monday and I avoided being guilty of having insufficient funds.

Leaving the bank Saturday I was relived, pleased and relaxed; which made the emotional crash and mental stress of the car stopping and refusing to run – leaving me stranded on Lakeview Terrace most upsetting.

With no money for a tow truck or anything else what was I to do?

Call a skilled mechanic I know who was interested in my old VW. While a non-running metal sculpture for me, it was a puzzle and a project for him. A deal was struck and in exchange for the VW I ended up with a used, but working alternator, and the ability to get the car home.

Aside: Best friends know how crazy you are and choose to be seen with you in public. They also lend you driveway space to store a VW; understanding your having an emotion bond with a VW you lived in while homeless in abbotsford and the need for time to be able to let go before disposing of the VW.

Now back to our Saga: starting the car up resulted in the battery quickly getting hot as did the alternator. I was told to turn the car off and was loaned a battery to get the car home. He explained that if not properly conditioned, reconditioned batteries can be hard to charge, causing the battery to heat up. This situation also puts a lot of strain on the alternator – in this instance frying the old alternator and leaving me stranded.

Getting back to my home Saturday evening we switched out batteries and I was lent a trickle battery charger. I got several phone calls during the evening sending me out to check on whether the battery was getting hot. It was not.

The fact the Duster is running and insured made this situation much easier to be sanguine about; allowing me to leave the Cavalier charging. Which I am told, will deal with the sulphides in the battery resulting in the battery functioning much better and (hopefully) sparing the replacement alternator the fate of its predecessor.

Of course, in keeping with the spirit of the Saga of the Cavalier, the Duster has been temperamental, threatening to cease to run any second. Indeed, I have no doubt that if I continue to drive the Duster it will gasp out its life quickly. If I pass it on to someone else the Duster will likely run for years.

The final twist of irony is that the Cavalier has been sitting there with charger hooked up since late Saturday evening inasmuch as I have been to apprehensive (or is that superstitious?) to tempt fate and start up the Cavalier.

So tomorrow (Thursday) I will force myself to see if this phase of the Saga of the Cavalier is done. Unplugging the battery charger, firing up the Cavalier and finding out if the road ahead will be smooth or whether the Universe is not through testing and tempering me yet.

As an addendum I want to take some of the 86,400 seconds I have available today to say thanks to those without whose generosity and assistance I would have been left wondering what “could have been” the Saga of the Cavalier.

>>>>>>>>> <<<<<<<<<

1Actual Cash Outlay

$$$
28 Transfer fee
53 3 day insurance permit
30 Gas
23 AirCare
134

55 Battery
88 Insurance
277

100 Alternator*

377

* a price of $100 had been agreed to as the sales price for the VW traded for the replacement alternator; this resulted in the removal of the $100 from my budget in the same manner as paying the $100 for an alternator would have.

Consider, Media

Thoughts on Responsible Reporting

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I was reading the new Science Fiction novel by a favourite author of mine in which media could be sued over misinformation in their reports and any consequences arising from less than complete and balanced information in reporting events.

It was only a minor point in the world and culture built by the author but it set in motion a train of thought when I saw the television news coverage of the death of Alberto Morgadinho.

Flash back to the story of the Canadian Tire store clerk who was fired for not letting the thief get away with stealing items from the store. The tone and tenor of the reports was that the clerk was a hero and should be rewarded not fired. News reporters went so far as to harass the store owner seeking a statement about why the store has a policy that resulting in firing the heroic (media tone/spin) clerk.

When the owner refused to comment, media “proved” the policy existed by interviewing other store clerks who knew that they were to let thieves getaway and call the police.

Not once did I see any reports that examined the whys of such a policy and whether, in light of the whys, this was a reasonable and intelligent policy. Even when they were glossing over the fact that this was not the first time this clerk had confronted a thief.

Flash forward to the tragic events surrounding the death of Alberto Morgadinho who, in attempting to interfere with thieves at his place of business, was run down and killed.

One report had his daughter stating how stupid it was that the thieves had killed Mr. Morgadinho over a few dollars worth of stolen items. A statement which contains a great deal of truth, but a statement that also fails to acknowledge a very important truth.

Yes killing someone over a few dollars of stolen merchandise is stupid.

However, it is also less than intelligent for a man such as Mr. Morgadinho to get himself killed over those few dollars of stolen merchandise. I wonder what Mr. Morgadinho’s reply would have been if you poised the scenario of his death to him, asking if dying under these circumstances and for simple goods that could be replaced was a good decision.

I found myself pondering the question of whether Mr. Mr. Morgadinho had seen the earlier television reports on the actions of the “heroic” Canadian Tire clerk. Wondering if seeing those reports had influenced Mr. Mr. Morgadinho’s actions on the day he died.

It is only stuff and can be replaced. The only rational, intelligent policy is a policy of doing nothing to interfere with thieves taking merchandise, instead protecting the lives of people – lives which cannot be replaced.

Careless, unbalanced and not thought out reporting can kill. Unfortunately, unlike the world created by my favoured author, media is not held accountable in anyway for the consequences of their poor reporting.

Bit of a sticky wicket, eh what?

Consider

Theft is Theft

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In the best of economic times stealing from charitable thrift stores is low. During our current economic climate such theft it is detestable. In Abbotsford this theft has reached a level that can only be characterized as despicable.

I am not referring to the ever popular price tag switch to a lower price. Not am I referring to outright theft of an item such as occurred on the weekend, were having failed with an attempted price tag switch, the woman (obviously no lady) said she didn’t want the item – then took advantage of the line-up and the volunteer to walk out of the store with the unpaid for item.

If it had been an item that was needed such as a pot to cook in it might have been forgivable. But a decorative wood plaque with a copper piece with three floral patterns embossed into the copper? No that is just plain low-down theft.

Still, this type of dishonest thieving merely results in a lower price from price tag switching or the loss of the item in the case of outright theft, so that while the thrift store is denied the income it is at least not out of pocket.

There is a type of theft being perpetrated on the thrift stores that is costing them $tens of thousands of dollar$ in out of pocket expenses.

As I pulled into the MCC store by the bus station, a young man was using a sledge hammer to break up garbage dropped of in the middle of the night as “donations”. Under cover of darkness someone snuck in and dumped this junk in order to avoid the cost of disposal; leaving the thrift store to pay the cost of disposal.

Included in the uncharitably dumped items was a console TV set with the back broken open to reveal the tubes. An item that whoever dumped it had to know was garbage.

MCCtv
On the way to swim at ARC, I passed the Hidden Treasures thrift store whose parking lot was full. A couch without cushions, refrigerator and other assorted “donations” all sitting under the sign asking people not to drop off these types of items because the store has to pay to have them removed.

HTlot
All the thrift stores in town have to inspect “donations” because so many people try to use these charities as dumping grounds simply to avoid the hassle and/or cost of disposing of their discards.

When the doors to the drop-off area at the Salvation Army are closed, these selfish thieves simply dump it anywhere they can. MCC Plaza has gates, one of which, since it is on the side street, had to be a chain-link fence gate with chain-link fencing extending away from the gate on both sides.

People who engage in this behaviour might just as well walk into the thrift store with a gun and take money out of the till at gunpoint.

Hmmm

permissum lector caveo

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insanitytraces2

I was speaking with a friend and colleague who disclosed she occasionally feels disorientated when she steps through a doorway, a reaction I experience on occasion myself.

As we know from advances in theoretical physics, reality is made up of an almost infinite number of alternate universes lying side by side parallel to ours. The difference between our universe and the universes that are on either side of ours are so minute that to an observer the differences would be unnoticeable.

It is only in the universes lying further from our own that differences become noticeable. The further one moves from ones starting universe (U0) the more the target universe (Ux) varies from U0 with the variations increasing as x increases. At a certain point (x + 1 or -x -1 since the universes lie to either side of the universe of origin) the observed universe becomes unrecognizable. From the point of view of the observer from U0 the universes beyond x + 1 (-x-1) become more and more bizarre.

As a result of doorways serving as thresholds between locations (rooms, inside/outside etc.) within ones starting universe U0, the membrane between universes becomes thinned by the ‘rubbing’ of the membrane caused by repeated transitions between locations within U0 (universe of origin).

Under certain circumstances the membrane can become so thin that as one steps through the threshold (doorway) one in fact steps from a location in U0 into a location in U1 or U -1 depending upon whether one is going up levels (+) or down (-) from U0.

Since the universe adjacent to one’s current starting universe is not noticeably different from U0, when such a transition occurs most humans do not notice that a transition between different universes has occurred.

Some individuals however are sensitive to the moment of transition. This sensitivity manifests as a feeling similar to, and oft accepted as, disorientation.

Thus it is that individuals who are sensitive to the transitions find themselves feeling ‘disoriented’ when transition through doorways.

If transition between universes due to thinning of the membrane has a probability of occurring, say .1x where x is an indeterminably (in our current universe) high number, why do those sensitive to the transition feel the ‘disorientation’ of transition so often?

Remember we are speaking of, for all intents and purposes, an infinite number of universes. As a result, a transition occurring in at least one universe is not an unusual event but an expected event in the totality of parallel universes.

There are, effectively, an infinite number of multiple yous spread across the totality of universes, stepping through an infinite number of thresholds. Mathematically, at random but not infrequent intervals, one of the yous will transition between universes.

Since two* of you cannot occupy the same universe the you that was in the universe you transitioned to is knocked to the next +universe. Like dominos this continues across alternate universes until a universe is reached sufficiently different from U0 that ‘you’ do not exist. Your transition from the starting universe creates a ‘vacuum’ that is filled when the you in the next –universe is pulled in to fill the ‘vacuum’. Again this continues across the alternate universes until a universe is reached sufficiently different from U0 that ‘you’ do not exist.

*two of you cannot occupy the same universe refers only to involuntary transitions. Using the proper science or mysticism can allow a traveller you to transition to a universe without knocking the resident you into the next universe. Extreme caution must be exercised since this circumstance has the potential to result in a universe annihilation event occurring.

The term starting universe is used in reference to transitions since there is no way to pinpoint ones universe of origin until one transitions into a universe scientifically or mystically advanced enough to be aware of and able to transit between parallel universes.

In universes lacking the advanced scientific or mystic knowledge, the vast majority of transitions that occur go unremarked. In the minority of cases with individuals sensitive to a transition between universes it is usually written off as ‘disorientation’.

Some of those sensitive to transition and curious about the nature of the universe and Reality come to understand what is happening, waiting (hoping) for a transition to a universe that is aware of parallel universes and that transfers between the universes occurs. Hopefully a universe with advanced scientific or mystic knowledge

Generally those aware of the nature of these transfers between universes say nothing to avoid being labelled strange or crazy. As being considered strange and/or crazy is a normal state for me I have no hesitation in sharing the knowledge of why sometimes some people feel ‘disoriented’ when they transition through a threshold (doorway).

It really does not matter what you think about this matter since Reality does not care what you believe – Reality just is.

Consider, Issues

How does anyone survive …

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I acknowledge that my depression is currently, as it likes to from time to time, making my life and simply functioning extremely challenging. Nevertheless I do not believe that is the reason I find myself feeling that Abbotsford’s City Song should be Gene Pitney’s ”town without pity”. Be that as it may, read and judge for yourself:

I first met Dave when I was homeless myself and he was attending and graduating from the R.I.T.E. program at Triangle Resources. Over the years since then I have spoken to Dave sometimes frequently, sometimes infrequently. Over that period he suffered the ups and downs of many of the homeless as they struggle with life and drugs while falling in and out of housing – good, bad and ugly housing.

The one thing that never changed over the time I have know Dave is my evaluation that what he needed to do well, perhaps even thrive, was pro active supportive housing.

Finding oneself forsaken to the streets has health consequences that are costly for the medical system and all too frequently fatal for the homeless.

I ran into Dave last night pushing his loaded shopping cart along and he was looking far too gaunt. It seems that he was recently told that cancer has reduced his life expectancy to a matter of weeks. And our government and our (laughable) social safety net still have left him living on the streets and pushing his cartload of meagre possessions around Abbotsford.

Then there is the case of the gentleman whose camp the City of Abbotsford and Abbotsford Police Department felt compelled to destroy, leaving him without shelter on what was perhaps the coldest night of last winter during the coldest spell of weather of said past winter.

Since beggars cannot be choosers, especially where shelter during a killer cold snap is concerned, the gentleman in question ended up finding shelter in a crack house – ironic in that he was not a drug user.

I heard today that the police were seeking him in connection with or as a result of his involvement with that crack house. Ah yes, the criminalization of homelessness – even more fun than harassing the homeless even though they have nowhere to go.

Now I have no doubt both the City and Abbotsford Police will beat their breasts and claim it is not their fault because of … whatever rationalization they decide to lay claim to. Notwithstanding their claims of non-culpability, if you start a boulder rolling downhill you bear accountability for what gets smashed when it reaches the bottom of the hill.

Then there is the kid, yes he is twenty but he is still a kid, who is hyperactive, has the attention span of a gnat, and has mental challenges and the challenges that arise from his upbringing. All of which make him a handful and a challenge (OK pain if the butt) to deal with.

However the reality of his situation is that he is not capable of functioning well enough to jump through all the hoops the system imposes on his own, he is literally his own worst enemy and he needs to be in supportive housing if he is to have any chance of a life.

Getting this young man into the housing and connected with the services and programs he needs is time intensive. In other words somebody somewhere in the system needs to invest the hours, more likely days, to get him properly connected since he is not capable of going and doing what needs to be done on his own.

On this subject, I told one of our Liberal candidates at the candidates meeting at Community Services on poverty that if the Liberals were re-elected and ever really wanted to actually reduce homelessness etc to call me. I also stated that programs need to be outcome focused rather than focused on generating nice, but meaningless, numbers.

For example: If you add up all the numbers cited by various organizations in Abbotsford for the numbers of homeless housed and those gotten into treatment you will find that we not only do not have any homeless or addicts on our streets, we have negative numbers of homeless and addicted on the streets. A very neat trick you must agree.

Numbers, without being in the context of outcomes, are for the most part meaningless in determining whether a program is actually accomplishing, or contributing to accomplishing, the goal or desired results.

Catch twenty-two for the young man. Even if people were not avoiding or refusing to deal with him because of the challenges he represents, they would not be investing time and effort on one human being when that time could be used to take actions that would generate lots of nice numbers to cite to justify the program.

Because he is hard to deal with as a result of his personal challenges and that it would require a large investment of one on one time, the young man finds himself on his own, effectively abandoned to the streets.

With his personal challenges the consensus on the street is that he is going to end up victimized, beaten or dead or in jail unless he gets the help he needs delivered in the way he needs. It should be about what he needs, not about the convenience of those charged with delivering services.
Three individuals whose paths have crossed mine in the last twenty-four hours and you need care, One of whom I witnessed nice words spoken and undertakings made on behalf of, which remain mere words. All the fancy words and undertakings are worthless unless they are turned into actions.

Three people: the dying, the criminalized and the likely dead or criminalized. Is it or is it not fathomable why the Gene Pitney song lyrics run through my mind when I reflect on the situation each of these gentleman finds himself in?

No, it isn’t very pretty what a town without pity – Can do.