Driving to Ottawa from Kitigan Zibi on the 105 last Sunday, I saw in the distance, bright, flashing lights on the roof of a police car parked on the shoulder of the road. It’s a sight I often come across on the busy 105! Speedsters going way too fast will sooner or later fall victim to the coppers’ radar. As I drove by the foolish driver who moments before saw a police officer where not many want to see one, in their rearview mirror, I said, “I hope that learns you not to speed.” LOL!
In my poet’s mind I see things. The blinking lights, a police car, a speedster, they drew me to a fantasy place. I imagine a world then, where the flashing lights of a police car on the shoulder of the road tell passers-by not that a speeding ticket is being handed out but declaring instead that a motorist is being rewarded for their excellent driving skills. “We’ve been watching you drive with care and safety in mind on this busy highway,” a cop might say to the car’s driver, “and we are going to give you a gift in acknowledgement of your contribution in making our highways safer for all.” The driver might receive an expensive box of Belgian chocolates or perhaps a shiny fishing lure, guaranteed to catch nice pickerel (walleye). Such a sight, such a world, would brighten the day of all drivers going to and fro who witnessed it.
Another fantasy land comes to mind after I paid my latest plowing bill. The man doing the job does a perfect job of it. The snow is scraped so clean that what is left is tight like skin to the gravel bed covering my yard. I imagined spreading all my shortcomings, all my dysfunction, all that is negative in my thoughts and actions, onto the surface of my yard. I then call a magical truck which plows it all clear of my yard and brings it to where the purity and perfection of tree spirits deals with it. Now that’s plow work I’d pay anything to have done! LOL.
I often go to Farm Boy on Sunday afternoons after visiting with my grandkids to replenish the food supplies I will need to see me through the next week. So there I was just a few days ago in my favourite store with my grocery list in hand. I had been craving the sweet, refreshing taste of an apple for several days and looked forward to bringing at least half a dozen of them home with me. I love apples! I love them in pies, in crisps, in cake and in a strudel! I knew a guy many years ago who would cut an apple into slices, placing them in between two pieces of toasted bread and eat it as one might eat a tomato sandwich. I tried it and must say, it wasn’t bad at all. I like to cut apples into four pieces and munch on them while listening to powwow songs. I buy apples grown on Canadian soil. I refuse to eat an apple imported from the USA. Let me be perfectly clear, I would deny my taste buds the pleasure of eating an apple again if it meant I’d have to buy one from the USA to do it. What Canada can’t supply, I’ll do without. I hope the readers of this blog feel the same way!
On this day however, there were no apples from Canada available at Farm Boy. All the apples contained in the bins were imported from the USA. Thus, Farm Boy was denied a sale. I am boycotting everything, all things imported from the States. Donald Trump, a convicted felon is cozying up to war criminals like Putin and Netanyahu. He is telling the world that he will annex Canada. The war criminals by his side who have a lot of experience in that area of oppression will urge him on. The annexing of another country’s territory is their specialty. Putin and Netanyahu – Trump is talking their kind of language!
I bought a new (used) car a week ago. I didn’t buy American. I’d ride on a horse/dog team to the city or walk before I support a business from the USA. I bought a Kia!
I haven’t been in the dating game in many years but if I was, I’d be singing “American woman get away from me. American woman, momma let me be” (girlcott?). When I say boycott, I mean boycott. Trump believes the people of this country will bend to his wishes. He doesn’t know us very well, does he?
Keep the Circle Strong,
South Wind (Albert Dumont)
