The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula K. Le Guin is a high fantasy novel that's not my usual genre. That being said, I didn't mind it.
Le Guin's novel is part of a series called The Earthsea Cycle. I'd be willing to read the other books in the series as this one wasn't too shabby.
The story takes place in Atuan, where the main character, Tenar, has been selected as a baby to be the next High Priestess of the Tombs. Following a ritual as old as time, she is stripped of her name, and the life she could have had as she was born the night the former priestess passed, a sort of reincarnation, or rebirth. She then becomes known as Arha, or the Eaten One. Bestowed upon her is the duty to be the guardian of the tombs of Atuan, the highest duty there is.
Into her teens years, while passing through her undertomb domain, a place where darkness reigns supreme, she sees that someone is breaking protocol, and has lit up part of the cavern. This leads to Tenar discovering a Mage named Ged, and together, they find the greatest treasure ever lost: the Ring of Erreth-Akbe. Tenar discovers that there is a life outside of darkness, where she doesn't have to be a slave to the tombs.
The Tombs of Atuan is a young adult novel that was mandatory reading for my Children's Lit course, and though it had an air of simplicity about it, it was engaging and kept my interest. I finished it within a matter of hours (spread out over two days), but then, it was only 180 pages long.
If high fantasy is your genre, you'd likely enjoy this book.
Wednesday 29 February 2012
Review: The Hobbit
I have a confession to make. I'm really not a fan of J.R.R Tolkien, so I warn you now that my review of The Hobbit will be biased, and likely to offend literary diehards. I read The Hobbit in grade six, as it was required reading, and I hated it so much that I never finished it. The only reason why I suffered to the end this time was because I know it'll be on the exam. However, previous feelings and experiences aside, I promise I'll try to find something good to say about it, but don't expect sunshine and roses.
My first problem with Tolkien is that I find he's guilty of giving his readers too much information. I'm glad there are images he wants his readers to envision, but he gives so many details of every nook, cranny, crack within the cranny, and spider within the crack that there's nothing left for the imagination. However, if you're someone like Peter Jackson, who wants to make such a book into a film, minimal thought about how the set ought to look is required because every last damn detail is already in the novel.
My second problem was Tolkien's assumption that his audience is full of idiots. I can clearly read, and since The Hobbit is a hyperbole of detail, I both know and understand what's going on. I do not need an explanation in brackets, and I presume that an epic battle of sorts is going to occur later in the story, so putting in brackets (paraphrasing), "I will write of a battle later" is redundant. Thank you, Captain Obvious, for informing me that an epic battle will be written down later in the book. It's not like I was expecting it to be written beforehand.
Also, and I'm certain I'm about to royally offend every Tolkien fan in existence, but I found The Hobbit to be boring as hell, and far too repetitive. The characters walk, they lose something, they're given assistance, they get into trouble, things get lost, they get saved. They walk, are given horses and food, they get into trouble, food runs out and horses die, they get into trouble, they get saved. And on and on the circle goes. Creativity to the max there (please note the sarcasm).
And the characters. Oh god, could they be any more irritating? The only worthwhile character is Gandalf. He's sage, magic, and is smart enough to get the hell out of dodge before Bilbo, such a pain in the arse, starts whining again. Yeah... Don't get me started on Bilbo. For a character who's supposed to be brave, and the be-all and end-all, he's such a whining, miserable, whimpy pain-in-the-ass.
However, there is one thing that left me very pleased with The Hobbit: When I was finished reading it.
My first problem with Tolkien is that I find he's guilty of giving his readers too much information. I'm glad there are images he wants his readers to envision, but he gives so many details of every nook, cranny, crack within the cranny, and spider within the crack that there's nothing left for the imagination. However, if you're someone like Peter Jackson, who wants to make such a book into a film, minimal thought about how the set ought to look is required because every last damn detail is already in the novel.
My second problem was Tolkien's assumption that his audience is full of idiots. I can clearly read, and since The Hobbit is a hyperbole of detail, I both know and understand what's going on. I do not need an explanation in brackets, and I presume that an epic battle of sorts is going to occur later in the story, so putting in brackets (paraphrasing), "I will write of a battle later" is redundant. Thank you, Captain Obvious, for informing me that an epic battle will be written down later in the book. It's not like I was expecting it to be written beforehand.
Also, and I'm certain I'm about to royally offend every Tolkien fan in existence, but I found The Hobbit to be boring as hell, and far too repetitive. The characters walk, they lose something, they're given assistance, they get into trouble, things get lost, they get saved. They walk, are given horses and food, they get into trouble, food runs out and horses die, they get into trouble, they get saved. And on and on the circle goes. Creativity to the max there (please note the sarcasm).
And the characters. Oh god, could they be any more irritating? The only worthwhile character is Gandalf. He's sage, magic, and is smart enough to get the hell out of dodge before Bilbo, such a pain in the arse, starts whining again. Yeah... Don't get me started on Bilbo. For a character who's supposed to be brave, and the be-all and end-all, he's such a whining, miserable, whimpy pain-in-the-ass.
However, there is one thing that left me very pleased with The Hobbit: When I was finished reading it.
Think Pink
Today, to support anti-bullying efforts, is Pink Shirt Day, which is why this post is being written in pink (in honour of).
Far too often, in the newspapers, and on our televisions, we hear that another tortured soul has committed suicide due to bullying, or more recently in the States, a high school student opened fire in his school, with the speculation that he was bullied, hence why he went with a gun and started shooting. We need to stand up for those kids, teens, and even adults, who are the victims of bullies to prevent more tragedies from occurring. Let's not lose anymore lives.
Wear your pink, and wear it proudly, whether it's a pink shirt, pink socks, pink pants, or pink undies, let's think pink, and remind those victimized by bullying that help is out there. We hear you. I hear you. Loud and clear. You're not alone. We in pink will stand by you.
For more on the subject, please refer to my October 2011 posts "Purple Rain," "Why So Homophobic?" and "Why So Homophobic? Part Two".
Far too often, in the newspapers, and on our televisions, we hear that another tortured soul has committed suicide due to bullying, or more recently in the States, a high school student opened fire in his school, with the speculation that he was bullied, hence why he went with a gun and started shooting. We need to stand up for those kids, teens, and even adults, who are the victims of bullies to prevent more tragedies from occurring. Let's not lose anymore lives.
Wear your pink, and wear it proudly, whether it's a pink shirt, pink socks, pink pants, or pink undies, let's think pink, and remind those victimized by bullying that help is out there. We hear you. I hear you. Loud and clear. You're not alone. We in pink will stand by you.
For more on the subject, please refer to my October 2011 posts "Purple Rain," "Why So Homophobic?" and "Why So Homophobic? Part Two".
Thursday 16 February 2012
Always a Geek: Star Wars Edition
As you've likely figured out from some of my previous posts, I'm a bit of a dork. I enjoy fear-inducing films and stories (I love the controlled adrenaline rush that comes with), Superman will always be the best hero in my mind, and I have an undying love for Star Wars. As I write this, I'm listening to bits and pieces of the Star Wars soundtrack on Youtube. So you can imagine my delight when I heard the news that my favourite space saga was coming back to the big screen.
I got hooked on Star Wars at a young age. Something foolish like four or five. Awesome space battles, really cool star ships, and the one and only James Earl Jones voicing the most epic bad-ass villain Hollywood has ever seen. I still own the grainy, original VHS tapes where Han shoots first (if you're unfamiliar with the, "who shot first, Han or Greedo," argument, you likely live under a rock, as even those who have never seen the film are aware of this debate). I live in fear of watching those tapes, though, because they're so darn old, I have visions of the tape snapping, or some foolishness like that.
Back in the mid nineties, George Lucas had announced that the original trilogy was coming back to theatres. I suppose calling them original is a bit of a lie as they were now the special editions of the originals. That didn't matter to me, though. I was going to get to see Star Wars on a massive screen, and experience the saga the way it was meant to viewed. I got to be like those who first saw it in 1977. Naturally, this was a prelude to the prequels that had yet to arrive.
While waiting for the prequels, the Special Edition of the original trilogy had been released on VHS. I remember snagging The Return of the Jedi on tape at the Dofasco Christmas party. Oh man, was I ever excited! And yes, I promptly watched it that night when we came home. I had to. It was like a rule. An unwritten rule, but a rule nonetheless.
I was in grade six when the first of the prequel trilogy came out in 1999. I had no idea what to expect with Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace. All I knew was that the story was now on its way to being completed, and that I couldn't wait for it to come out. I remember seeing the film in theatres three times, and being far from disappointed. The pod race was like nothing I'd ever seen before, and I must admit, I still think they look like they'd be terrifying but exhilarating to race. In other words, I want one. Darth Maul didn't have an epic voice like Darth Vader, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one who thought that he was one scary looking sonofabeech. Not as awesome as Darth Vader, but still really freaking cool, or at least with, "Duel of the Fates," as he takes on Obi-Wan Kenobi (my first introduction to Ewan McGregor) and Qui-Gon Jin (my second meeting with Liam Neeson).
Tenth grade was when Star Wars, Episode II: Attack of the Clones came out. I remember going to the theatres to see it with a few of my friends. My mum, being the way she is, bought the four of us who were going PEZ that looked like Yoda and Darth Vader. I think I saw that one two or three times as well. Of the prequels, Ep. 2 was probably the best. There was more action, it was way louder than the first, and it had Christopher Lee, who makes for a very good villain (don't believe me? Watch SW Ep. 2, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and then get back to me).
By this time, the Special Editions of the original trilogy had been released on DVD. Naturally, I went out and purchased it. All sorts of extra goodies, no crackling tape, and clear, crisp picture. I recall picking it up during the week that I had off for my exams. Omar and I were finished all of ours, and since his television is much larger than mine, I took my movies over, and we had a marathon. That's right. We watched Ep.4: A New Hope, Ep. 5: The Empire Strikes Back, and Ep. 6: The Return of the Jedi all in one sitting. We stopped long enough to use the bathroom in between films. That was it. I remember, though, that the DVD with all the bonus features had a sneak-peak at the final installment: Revenge of the Sith. Omar and his brother sat with their noses pretty much pressed against the television for the five-ish minutes that the sneak-peek lasted. No, I'm not the only dork.
It was either grade twelve, or my victory lap, I can't remember which, when the final prequel installment, Star Wars, Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith made its way to the big screen. I really don't have much to say about Ep. 3. Out of all six films, it was definitely the worst. Omar would probably agree with me, especially since we have been known to refer to it as, Revenge of the Shit on occasion (or maybe we're dyslexic. I haven't decided yet).
After Ep. 3, I never thought I'd get to see my favourite film franchise on the big screen ever again. Sure, I could watch it at Omar's house, but it's not the same. I think it was around the time Omar and I went to see Star Wars: In Concert that we found out that all six films were coming back to theatres. For the record, SWIC was amazing, and it had Anthony Daniels (aka C-3P0) doing the narration), and yes, I dressed up as Princess Leia for the occasion.
Yes, I know I touched on it briefly in my previous post, but there was just something about being able to be the ultimate geek, and see something I love so much the way it was meant to be seen thirteen years later. I felt like an eleven-year-old all over again. I cannot wait for the rest of them to come out for the second and third time around. Yes, I will always be this dorky. May the Force be with you.
I got hooked on Star Wars at a young age. Something foolish like four or five. Awesome space battles, really cool star ships, and the one and only James Earl Jones voicing the most epic bad-ass villain Hollywood has ever seen. I still own the grainy, original VHS tapes where Han shoots first (if you're unfamiliar with the, "who shot first, Han or Greedo," argument, you likely live under a rock, as even those who have never seen the film are aware of this debate). I live in fear of watching those tapes, though, because they're so darn old, I have visions of the tape snapping, or some foolishness like that.
Back in the mid nineties, George Lucas had announced that the original trilogy was coming back to theatres. I suppose calling them original is a bit of a lie as they were now the special editions of the originals. That didn't matter to me, though. I was going to get to see Star Wars on a massive screen, and experience the saga the way it was meant to viewed. I got to be like those who first saw it in 1977. Naturally, this was a prelude to the prequels that had yet to arrive.
While waiting for the prequels, the Special Edition of the original trilogy had been released on VHS. I remember snagging The Return of the Jedi on tape at the Dofasco Christmas party. Oh man, was I ever excited! And yes, I promptly watched it that night when we came home. I had to. It was like a rule. An unwritten rule, but a rule nonetheless.
I was in grade six when the first of the prequel trilogy came out in 1999. I had no idea what to expect with Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace. All I knew was that the story was now on its way to being completed, and that I couldn't wait for it to come out. I remember seeing the film in theatres three times, and being far from disappointed. The pod race was like nothing I'd ever seen before, and I must admit, I still think they look like they'd be terrifying but exhilarating to race. In other words, I want one. Darth Maul didn't have an epic voice like Darth Vader, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one who thought that he was one scary looking sonofabeech. Not as awesome as Darth Vader, but still really freaking cool, or at least with, "Duel of the Fates," as he takes on Obi-Wan Kenobi (my first introduction to Ewan McGregor) and Qui-Gon Jin (my second meeting with Liam Neeson).
Tenth grade was when Star Wars, Episode II: Attack of the Clones came out. I remember going to the theatres to see it with a few of my friends. My mum, being the way she is, bought the four of us who were going PEZ that looked like Yoda and Darth Vader. I think I saw that one two or three times as well. Of the prequels, Ep. 2 was probably the best. There was more action, it was way louder than the first, and it had Christopher Lee, who makes for a very good villain (don't believe me? Watch SW Ep. 2, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and then get back to me).
By this time, the Special Editions of the original trilogy had been released on DVD. Naturally, I went out and purchased it. All sorts of extra goodies, no crackling tape, and clear, crisp picture. I recall picking it up during the week that I had off for my exams. Omar and I were finished all of ours, and since his television is much larger than mine, I took my movies over, and we had a marathon. That's right. We watched Ep.4: A New Hope, Ep. 5: The Empire Strikes Back, and Ep. 6: The Return of the Jedi all in one sitting. We stopped long enough to use the bathroom in between films. That was it. I remember, though, that the DVD with all the bonus features had a sneak-peak at the final installment: Revenge of the Sith. Omar and his brother sat with their noses pretty much pressed against the television for the five-ish minutes that the sneak-peek lasted. No, I'm not the only dork.
It was either grade twelve, or my victory lap, I can't remember which, when the final prequel installment, Star Wars, Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith made its way to the big screen. I really don't have much to say about Ep. 3. Out of all six films, it was definitely the worst. Omar would probably agree with me, especially since we have been known to refer to it as, Revenge of the Shit on occasion (or maybe we're dyslexic. I haven't decided yet).
After Ep. 3, I never thought I'd get to see my favourite film franchise on the big screen ever again. Sure, I could watch it at Omar's house, but it's not the same. I think it was around the time Omar and I went to see Star Wars: In Concert that we found out that all six films were coming back to theatres. For the record, SWIC was amazing, and it had Anthony Daniels (aka C-3P0) doing the narration), and yes, I dressed up as Princess Leia for the occasion.
Yes, I know I touched on it briefly in my previous post, but there was just something about being able to be the ultimate geek, and see something I love so much the way it was meant to be seen thirteen years later. I felt like an eleven-year-old all over again. I cannot wait for the rest of them to come out for the second and third time around. Yes, I will always be this dorky. May the Force be with you.
Wednesday 15 February 2012
Not So Anti-Valentine After All
Those who know me could probably tell you that I've often been against Valentine's Day. I've never been a fan of the mush and gush, and besides, I'm of the belief that if you truly care about someone, you should be letting them know on a daily basis, not once a year. Up until yesterday, for as long as I can remember, Valentines Day, when I was still sitting in a classroom, meant that my mum would sneak a small card, and some extra candy into my lunch bag, or leave little miscellaneous notes in random places, like inside my pencil case, or a small, zippered-up area in my backpack. In more recent years, along with my mum's little hidden gems, I'd sit down at night with a snack, and watch The Hour with George Stroumboulopoulous. Not only is he freaking adorable, but he starts off every show with, "I'm your boyfriend." Strombo as my boyfriend? Damn, for not having a Valentine, I think I did quite well!
This year marked the first year in a very long time that I didn't spend my Valentines Day watching Strombo. I hope I didn't break his heart. Truth is, I had someone other than Strombo to spend my evening with, and it was awesome, even though I didn't know what it was going to entail. All I knew was that due to certain circumstances, dinner unfortunately couldn't happen, but I still needed to be ready for six o'clock, and that we wouldn't be doing anything particularly fancy. Seeing how I'm an easy-going, low-maintenance kind of girl, this was no problem for me.
Around six, my Valentine came to the door with a homemade card, and a bouquet of flowers. The card featured Darth Vader, and read, "I find your lack of Valentines disturbing. Be mine," and the flowers are varying shades of purple and white. I can't stop smelling them. They're beautiful.
After finding a vase for my flowers, we left. I was informed that we had a bit of time to kill, and that maybe we'd go wander around Indigo for a bit. Instead, we went for a 15-20 minute drive. At this point, I was pretty sure where we were going to go, but I chose to keep quiet, just because it'd be more fun that way. Sure enough, our destination was the movie theatre, and like I'd secretly hoped, we were going to see Star Wars 3D. Anyone who knows me could tell you that I'm a massive Star Wars freak (as if my Darth Vader card wasn't already a massive giveaway), so I was really excited to go see it in 3D. Yes, I realize it was only Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace, and the 3D seemed non-existent, however, the pod race was awesome, "Duel of the Fates" was amazing, and I had Ewan McGregor on a big screen. Why go see a chick flick when I could watch a duelling Scotsman instead?.
This Valentines Day was hands-down the best that I've ever experienced... Well, except for when I was about seven or eight at Bellmoore, and my reading buddy gave me a pink carnation. That was pretty exciting too.
I'm still of the belief that if you care about someone, you should be informing them on a daily basis, but to take some time on February 14, do something fun, and enjoy each other's company... I think I could do that again.
Happy Valentines Day, everybody (a little bit late)!
This year marked the first year in a very long time that I didn't spend my Valentines Day watching Strombo. I hope I didn't break his heart. Truth is, I had someone other than Strombo to spend my evening with, and it was awesome, even though I didn't know what it was going to entail. All I knew was that due to certain circumstances, dinner unfortunately couldn't happen, but I still needed to be ready for six o'clock, and that we wouldn't be doing anything particularly fancy. Seeing how I'm an easy-going, low-maintenance kind of girl, this was no problem for me.
Around six, my Valentine came to the door with a homemade card, and a bouquet of flowers. The card featured Darth Vader, and read, "I find your lack of Valentines disturbing. Be mine," and the flowers are varying shades of purple and white. I can't stop smelling them. They're beautiful.
After finding a vase for my flowers, we left. I was informed that we had a bit of time to kill, and that maybe we'd go wander around Indigo for a bit. Instead, we went for a 15-20 minute drive. At this point, I was pretty sure where we were going to go, but I chose to keep quiet, just because it'd be more fun that way. Sure enough, our destination was the movie theatre, and like I'd secretly hoped, we were going to see Star Wars 3D. Anyone who knows me could tell you that I'm a massive Star Wars freak (as if my Darth Vader card wasn't already a massive giveaway), so I was really excited to go see it in 3D. Yes, I realize it was only Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace, and the 3D seemed non-existent, however, the pod race was awesome, "Duel of the Fates" was amazing, and I had Ewan McGregor on a big screen. Why go see a chick flick when I could watch a duelling Scotsman instead?.
This Valentines Day was hands-down the best that I've ever experienced... Well, except for when I was about seven or eight at Bellmoore, and my reading buddy gave me a pink carnation. That was pretty exciting too.
I'm still of the belief that if you care about someone, you should be informing them on a daily basis, but to take some time on February 14, do something fun, and enjoy each other's company... I think I could do that again.
Happy Valentines Day, everybody (a little bit late)!
Sunday 12 February 2012
My 'Brook
Last night, I was a participant in a dinner-table conversation involving young people and the housing market, mortgage rates, and the costs of purchasing property in heavily urban areas. For instance, I'd heard about costs of two-bedroom townhouses in the heart of Toronto costing upwards of $1 million. For a few hundred thousand more, you can buy a farm. What good is that kind of money on a house? It's not like you can do anything with it but sleep. At least if you're punching out that kind of money on a farm, you can have animals, crops, and actually do something useful, like feed people.
This discussion got me thinking about the development that's occurring in my hometown. Actually, I wrote an essay about the changes in my community last year for my Intermediate Composition class (for my English degree). So, with all of this in mind, I thought I'd share my essay, "My 'Brook" with you.
If you're familiar with the John Mellencamp song, "Rain on the Scarecrow," upon reading, "My 'Brook", you'd understand why that particular song would come to mind as it's of a similar nature to my essay.
My 'Brook
One minute after midnight on January 1, 2000, my hometown, Binbrook, in southern Ontario changed forever as the Township of Glanbrook amalgamated with Hamilton to create the “New” City of Hamilton. Many of my community’s previous ways are no longer, as the amalgamation destroyed them. The city refers to Binbrook’s decade-long over-haul as progress while we country- folk call it a tragedy. How we were is but a memory, and quite the opposite to what we’ve become. Some things have remained the same, though, and hopefully they will never change.
Old Binbrook, as the original community members call it, still remembers how life used to be. Pre- amalgamation, Binbrook didn’t merely consider a neighbour to be a person who lived next door, across the road, or down the street. In the old community, a friend or relative could live on the other side of the township and still be considered a neighbour. At the time, too, you likely knew your neighbours, as our town was small enough in population that most people knew everyone else. There were a few occasions where you wouldn’t know a person, but that didn’t matter because you always knew someone else who did. Walking into one of Binbrook’s businesses, like the village’s small grocery store, and addressing the owner by name, wasn’t uncommon. A phrase like, “I went to Gino’s,” was more likely to be heard than, “I went to Food Town.” Knowing Gino’s employees wasn’t a rarity either as you probably went to school with their children, or they went to school with our parents. We all attended Bellmoore Public School, located on Highway #56, one of two major roads running through our town. Bellmoore was named after Old Doc Bell, who was the village doctor when my grandparents were young, and who was succeeded by his son, Doc Bell, when my mother was a child, and Mr. Moore, who donated the land that the school was built on. When I attended Bellmoore, it had a population of 300. All of the students knew one another, despite grade differences, as you had a class with a sibling, or you knew them from the bus. Since Binbrook wasn’t a multi-cultural community, Bellmoore wasn’t either.
Traffic was so much lighter, too, before amalgamation. You could stare at the road, and see nary a car an hour, and since there were so few vehicles on the road, there were hardly any traffic accidents. Occasionally, sirens could be heard, emergency vehicles would be seen speeding by, and pre-2000, you likely knew the people at the destination. And of course, since Binbrook was a farming community, the fanciest vehicles that would be seen driving on by were bright red tractors and combines, compliments of O’Neil’s Fast and Friendly.
Binbrook had many things, pre-amalgamation, that we didn’t realize we had until they were gone. As Binbrook was a farming community, every field was filled with crops for what seemed like kilometres on end. Once a year, Binbrook would have its Fall Fair, which the Binbrook Agricultural Society had been hosting since 1854 on the only fairgrounds in the community. The community also had one set of traffic lights, which intersect the two main roads going through the heart of the village. As there were so few houses, and even fewer street lights, we had minimal light pollution, and as a result, we had a beautiful, starry night sky. Pre-amalgamation, Binbrook was part of the Township of Glanbrook, where Glen Etherington was our Mayor, and David Mitchell was our Ward, and it had been that way for as long as any Old Binbrook resident could remember. But now that’s all just a thing of the past.
A decade later, and Binbrook is so strange and different from the community it once was, and much of our small community feeling is lost. The equivalent of our pre-amalgamation population is being crammed into the village core. We no longer know everybody like we once did. Gino sold his Food Town as he knew that he wouldn’t be able to compete with the supermarket monstrosity that’s Fortino’s, which had been built just minutes away. Food Town has become Food Market, which is really just an LCBO that sells some convenience store snack foods. Bellmoore is now over-crowded, with portable classrooms taking up space on the playground. A new behemoth of a Catholic school has been built, and plans for a new elementary school to replace Bellmoore are in the works. The city is considering re-naming the new school, and giving it one that’s supposedly more prestigious. Apparently, Docs Bell and Mr. Moore aren’t glamorous enough for Hamilton. My mother jeers that the city ought to rename our entire village while they’re at it.
Driving can be annoying as there is constant traffic, and new streets leading into the new surveys are continually being built. As there are more vehicles than before, there are more accidents, especially at my family’s intersection. Too many people are in a hurry and many more don’t pay attention to road signs, especially to the lack there of. Now, when we see emergency vehicles go by, the people at the destinations are likely strangers. Combines were once the fanciest vehicles on the road. Ten years later, and luxury cars are more common as the new residents can’t seem to go without.
Farms that had been sown for a century and a half, and in families for countless generations, are being bought out by developers. Farmers can’t afford to keep their land as farming no longer brings in enough money. Where crops once grew, houses have sprouted instead, with one of the ill-fated farms belonging to the now-deceased best friend of my great- grandmother. Binbrook’s fairgrounds still exist, but a housing development of the same name has been built directly behind, causing confusion with the new locals whenever mention of the fairgrounds is made. A second set of traffic lights has recently been installed, which royally irks Old Binbrook as we now have to specify which set of lights we’re referring to. Because so many houses and roads have been built, more streetlights line the roads, and now a sky that was once littered with stars has a dim glow as the result of light pollution. The original Township of Glanbrook is no longer as it’s now a part of the “New” City of Hamilton. Glen has since passed on, and Binbrook gets whomever Hamilton votes in for Mayor, which has changed every election. Mr. Mitchell, who had represented Ward 11 for the past twenty-five years, was voted out of his position last election. Life, as Old Binbrook knew it, has been lost forever.
Though much has changed throughout Binbrook over the last ten years, a few things have remained the same. On Fletcher Road, drivers are still guaranteed to get caught behind Old Man Freeman on his tractor at dusk. On warm summer days, the smells of fresh- cut grass and sweet clover still float on the breeze. Wild animals, such as foxes, deer, and Earl the Groundhog, continue to roam freely through the remaining fields. And my family’s fields will never be sold as my mother would never go back on her promise or handshake that she made with the farmers who work our land, guaranteeing calm, cool breezes for us in the spring and summer. But it’s just not the same. Binbrook is no longer what it once was. We can never go home again.
And for those of you who aren't familiar with, "Rain on the Scarecrow":
This discussion got me thinking about the development that's occurring in my hometown. Actually, I wrote an essay about the changes in my community last year for my Intermediate Composition class (for my English degree). So, with all of this in mind, I thought I'd share my essay, "My 'Brook" with you.
If you're familiar with the John Mellencamp song, "Rain on the Scarecrow," upon reading, "My 'Brook", you'd understand why that particular song would come to mind as it's of a similar nature to my essay.
My 'Brook
One minute after midnight on January 1, 2000, my hometown, Binbrook, in southern Ontario changed forever as the Township of Glanbrook amalgamated with Hamilton to create the “New” City of Hamilton. Many of my community’s previous ways are no longer, as the amalgamation destroyed them. The city refers to Binbrook’s decade-long over-haul as progress while we country- folk call it a tragedy. How we were is but a memory, and quite the opposite to what we’ve become. Some things have remained the same, though, and hopefully they will never change.
Old Binbrook, as the original community members call it, still remembers how life used to be. Pre- amalgamation, Binbrook didn’t merely consider a neighbour to be a person who lived next door, across the road, or down the street. In the old community, a friend or relative could live on the other side of the township and still be considered a neighbour. At the time, too, you likely knew your neighbours, as our town was small enough in population that most people knew everyone else. There were a few occasions where you wouldn’t know a person, but that didn’t matter because you always knew someone else who did. Walking into one of Binbrook’s businesses, like the village’s small grocery store, and addressing the owner by name, wasn’t uncommon. A phrase like, “I went to Gino’s,” was more likely to be heard than, “I went to Food Town.” Knowing Gino’s employees wasn’t a rarity either as you probably went to school with their children, or they went to school with our parents. We all attended Bellmoore Public School, located on Highway #56, one of two major roads running through our town. Bellmoore was named after Old Doc Bell, who was the village doctor when my grandparents were young, and who was succeeded by his son, Doc Bell, when my mother was a child, and Mr. Moore, who donated the land that the school was built on. When I attended Bellmoore, it had a population of 300. All of the students knew one another, despite grade differences, as you had a class with a sibling, or you knew them from the bus. Since Binbrook wasn’t a multi-cultural community, Bellmoore wasn’t either.
Traffic was so much lighter, too, before amalgamation. You could stare at the road, and see nary a car an hour, and since there were so few vehicles on the road, there were hardly any traffic accidents. Occasionally, sirens could be heard, emergency vehicles would be seen speeding by, and pre-2000, you likely knew the people at the destination. And of course, since Binbrook was a farming community, the fanciest vehicles that would be seen driving on by were bright red tractors and combines, compliments of O’Neil’s Fast and Friendly.
Binbrook had many things, pre-amalgamation, that we didn’t realize we had until they were gone. As Binbrook was a farming community, every field was filled with crops for what seemed like kilometres on end. Once a year, Binbrook would have its Fall Fair, which the Binbrook Agricultural Society had been hosting since 1854 on the only fairgrounds in the community. The community also had one set of traffic lights, which intersect the two main roads going through the heart of the village. As there were so few houses, and even fewer street lights, we had minimal light pollution, and as a result, we had a beautiful, starry night sky. Pre-amalgamation, Binbrook was part of the Township of Glanbrook, where Glen Etherington was our Mayor, and David Mitchell was our Ward, and it had been that way for as long as any Old Binbrook resident could remember. But now that’s all just a thing of the past.
A decade later, and Binbrook is so strange and different from the community it once was, and much of our small community feeling is lost. The equivalent of our pre-amalgamation population is being crammed into the village core. We no longer know everybody like we once did. Gino sold his Food Town as he knew that he wouldn’t be able to compete with the supermarket monstrosity that’s Fortino’s, which had been built just minutes away. Food Town has become Food Market, which is really just an LCBO that sells some convenience store snack foods. Bellmoore is now over-crowded, with portable classrooms taking up space on the playground. A new behemoth of a Catholic school has been built, and plans for a new elementary school to replace Bellmoore are in the works. The city is considering re-naming the new school, and giving it one that’s supposedly more prestigious. Apparently, Docs Bell and Mr. Moore aren’t glamorous enough for Hamilton. My mother jeers that the city ought to rename our entire village while they’re at it.
Driving can be annoying as there is constant traffic, and new streets leading into the new surveys are continually being built. As there are more vehicles than before, there are more accidents, especially at my family’s intersection. Too many people are in a hurry and many more don’t pay attention to road signs, especially to the lack there of. Now, when we see emergency vehicles go by, the people at the destinations are likely strangers. Combines were once the fanciest vehicles on the road. Ten years later, and luxury cars are more common as the new residents can’t seem to go without.
Farms that had been sown for a century and a half, and in families for countless generations, are being bought out by developers. Farmers can’t afford to keep their land as farming no longer brings in enough money. Where crops once grew, houses have sprouted instead, with one of the ill-fated farms belonging to the now-deceased best friend of my great- grandmother. Binbrook’s fairgrounds still exist, but a housing development of the same name has been built directly behind, causing confusion with the new locals whenever mention of the fairgrounds is made. A second set of traffic lights has recently been installed, which royally irks Old Binbrook as we now have to specify which set of lights we’re referring to. Because so many houses and roads have been built, more streetlights line the roads, and now a sky that was once littered with stars has a dim glow as the result of light pollution. The original Township of Glanbrook is no longer as it’s now a part of the “New” City of Hamilton. Glen has since passed on, and Binbrook gets whomever Hamilton votes in for Mayor, which has changed every election. Mr. Mitchell, who had represented Ward 11 for the past twenty-five years, was voted out of his position last election. Life, as Old Binbrook knew it, has been lost forever.
Though much has changed throughout Binbrook over the last ten years, a few things have remained the same. On Fletcher Road, drivers are still guaranteed to get caught behind Old Man Freeman on his tractor at dusk. On warm summer days, the smells of fresh- cut grass and sweet clover still float on the breeze. Wild animals, such as foxes, deer, and Earl the Groundhog, continue to roam freely through the remaining fields. And my family’s fields will never be sold as my mother would never go back on her promise or handshake that she made with the farmers who work our land, guaranteeing calm, cool breezes for us in the spring and summer. But it’s just not the same. Binbrook is no longer what it once was. We can never go home again.
And for those of you who aren't familiar with, "Rain on the Scarecrow":
Friday 10 February 2012
One More Month
I have wonderful news that I can't help but share, especially if you're familiar with my September 2011 post, "Child Cancer Sucks!" My cousin, who I wrote that piece about, as of today (February 10, 2012), has one month left of treatment to go. On March 10, 2012, we should be hearing the words, "leukemia free."
For those of you who understand the battle, you know just how exciting this is. When we'd first heard that it'd be three years of treatment, it seemed like such a long time. Now, we can't believe that he has one month left to go. Not just that, but to adjust to a new normal too. No chemo, no clinic days, no more lumbar procedures. It's been a long time coming.
I'm certain that many of you who are reading this have had cancer of some description impact you in some way, whether you've survived it yourself, or know someone who's fighting it. For those of you who have lost someone, I'm sorry. My family knows your pain. But, hopefully, the bittersweetness of my nine year old cousin defeating it brings you some comfort as well.
You have one month left to live, leukemia.
For those of you who understand the battle, you know just how exciting this is. When we'd first heard that it'd be three years of treatment, it seemed like such a long time. Now, we can't believe that he has one month left to go. Not just that, but to adjust to a new normal too. No chemo, no clinic days, no more lumbar procedures. It's been a long time coming.
I'm certain that many of you who are reading this have had cancer of some description impact you in some way, whether you've survived it yourself, or know someone who's fighting it. For those of you who have lost someone, I'm sorry. My family knows your pain. But, hopefully, the bittersweetness of my nine year old cousin defeating it brings you some comfort as well.
You have one month left to live, leukemia.
Tuesday 7 February 2012
Consider the Following...
It all started earlier today when I was checking my Facebook page, and I saw that Bill Nye, as in Bill Nye the Science Guy, had teamed up with Mr. Fujii of Toshiba, to launch a, "Consider the Following" video in Times Square. Anyone who was a kid in the nineties would know why this is totally awesome, and why I would be really excited. After all, "Consider the Following" was a regular segment on Bill Nye the Science Guy.
Naturally, watching this segment made me want to watch more Bill Nye. After all, it was one of the coolest shows around, and you didn't even need to have cable to watch it, which is a good thing as I didn't get cable until high school. Thanks to Bill Nye, not only did I discover that, "science rules," but I learned that, "inertia is a property of matter." And yes, I still get really excited when I hear the intro:
This prompted me to think back to some of the other awesome shows I was privy to growing up, and I don't mean Mr. Rogers' Neighbourhood, Sesame Street, or Mr. Dressup, though they were really quite good and educational. No, I got to thinking of the ones I'd be aching to see on TVO (Television Ontario) when I'd get home from school, Bill Nye aside.
If you're a child of the nineties from North America, it's a pretty safe bet that this show was a weeknight staple:
I remember being addicted to Ghostwriter. I'm certain that if I saw this show now, I'd be thinking to myself, "this is so lame. Why did I watch this," but the memories I have is that it was an awesome, youth-friendly mystery series, where every mystery was broken down into a four-part mini-series. What kid doesn't want to try to solve mysteries with the help of a ghost who writes helpful clues and messages? If you were a child of the nineties, you know that you wished you could solve puzzles with the help of Ghostwriter.
Who's a criminal mastermind with a vast knowledge of geography, and is red all over? Need another hint? I guarantee you'll know the answer within the first few seconds of this next television show theme:
"Tell me, 'Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?'"
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? Oh man, as a kid, this was one of the most freaking awesome shows around! A children's show where you had to solve crimes, it taught us youngsters all about geography, which you had to use to figure out where Carmen Sandiego ran off to, and to successfully bring her crimes to justice. I'm pretty sure that if I were to see it now, I'd also think it was quite cheezy, however, the theme song will ALWAYS be awesome.
There's one other show that I always enjoyed growing up. It was called Round the Twist. It was about three kids, who lived with their dad, a single parent, in a haunted lighthouse. It was a little bit of fantasy, a little bit of horror, but all of it was child friendly. It used to show on TVO, but I don't know how popular it was in North America because it's Australian. Even if you don't recognize the name of the show, if you'd ever seen it, you'd know the intro:
Of course, there are so many other nineties childhood staples, but these were the ones that stood out the most for me, especially after that, "Consider the Following," video.
One last thing I'll say about Bill Nye the Science Guy, before I forget. His show had a segment called, "Way Cool Scientist." I remember hoping beyond hope, and wanting beyond want to see my Aunt Teresa featured because she went off and got her Ph.D in Chemistry (it hasn't been used in a very long time, as in years), so to me, she was a way cool scientist.
Bill Nye, thanks for taking me back to my childhood with your latest, "Consider the following." And for the record, I'm no longer bitter that you never featured my aunt as your, "Way Cool Scientist."
Naturally, watching this segment made me want to watch more Bill Nye. After all, it was one of the coolest shows around, and you didn't even need to have cable to watch it, which is a good thing as I didn't get cable until high school. Thanks to Bill Nye, not only did I discover that, "science rules," but I learned that, "inertia is a property of matter." And yes, I still get really excited when I hear the intro:
This prompted me to think back to some of the other awesome shows I was privy to growing up, and I don't mean Mr. Rogers' Neighbourhood, Sesame Street, or Mr. Dressup, though they were really quite good and educational. No, I got to thinking of the ones I'd be aching to see on TVO (Television Ontario) when I'd get home from school, Bill Nye aside.
If you're a child of the nineties from North America, it's a pretty safe bet that this show was a weeknight staple:
I remember being addicted to Ghostwriter. I'm certain that if I saw this show now, I'd be thinking to myself, "this is so lame. Why did I watch this," but the memories I have is that it was an awesome, youth-friendly mystery series, where every mystery was broken down into a four-part mini-series. What kid doesn't want to try to solve mysteries with the help of a ghost who writes helpful clues and messages? If you were a child of the nineties, you know that you wished you could solve puzzles with the help of Ghostwriter.
Who's a criminal mastermind with a vast knowledge of geography, and is red all over? Need another hint? I guarantee you'll know the answer within the first few seconds of this next television show theme:
"Tell me, 'Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?'"
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? Oh man, as a kid, this was one of the most freaking awesome shows around! A children's show where you had to solve crimes, it taught us youngsters all about geography, which you had to use to figure out where Carmen Sandiego ran off to, and to successfully bring her crimes to justice. I'm pretty sure that if I were to see it now, I'd also think it was quite cheezy, however, the theme song will ALWAYS be awesome.
There's one other show that I always enjoyed growing up. It was called Round the Twist. It was about three kids, who lived with their dad, a single parent, in a haunted lighthouse. It was a little bit of fantasy, a little bit of horror, but all of it was child friendly. It used to show on TVO, but I don't know how popular it was in North America because it's Australian. Even if you don't recognize the name of the show, if you'd ever seen it, you'd know the intro:
Of course, there are so many other nineties childhood staples, but these were the ones that stood out the most for me, especially after that, "Consider the Following," video.
One last thing I'll say about Bill Nye the Science Guy, before I forget. His show had a segment called, "Way Cool Scientist." I remember hoping beyond hope, and wanting beyond want to see my Aunt Teresa featured because she went off and got her Ph.D in Chemistry (it hasn't been used in a very long time, as in years), so to me, she was a way cool scientist.
Bill Nye, thanks for taking me back to my childhood with your latest, "Consider the following." And for the record, I'm no longer bitter that you never featured my aunt as your, "Way Cool Scientist."
Monday 6 February 2012
Review: The Princess and the Goblin
The Princess and the Goblin, by George MacDonald, is a wonderful story that was required reading for my Children's Literature course. Irene is a young princess, who the majority of the story focuses on, who lives in a wonderful house by the mountains, under the care of a nurse, and many other caregivers and servants. Due to the terrible goblins that live under the mountains, Princess Irene isn't permitted to be outside after the sun goes down. The one day that Irene and her nurse stay out too late walking along a road outside of the residence, the goblins try to appear. Luckily, miner Curdie was walking the same road, and knew how to keep the goblins at bay (who knew that goblins didn't like music, particularly singing?).
Curdie is the other main character in this story. One night, while staying late in the mines to earn enough money to buy his mother a new red petticoat, Curdie overhears the nasty plans that the goblins are concocting. Unfortunately, this leads to Curdie's capture.
Princess Irene has a grandmother who lives in the top towers of the residence, who gave Irene a magic ring. Whenever she's scared, Irene is to place the ring under her pillow, and the spider-web string that the grandmother spun will lead Irene off to safety. Such a string, due to a magic ring, is also capable of bringing forth a spur-of-the-moment rescue of Curdie too.
The Princess and the Goblin, though a simple book, was quite engaging, and entertaining. It was a child-friendly fantasy novel that will make you feel like a little kid yourself all over again.
Curdie is the other main character in this story. One night, while staying late in the mines to earn enough money to buy his mother a new red petticoat, Curdie overhears the nasty plans that the goblins are concocting. Unfortunately, this leads to Curdie's capture.
Princess Irene has a grandmother who lives in the top towers of the residence, who gave Irene a magic ring. Whenever she's scared, Irene is to place the ring under her pillow, and the spider-web string that the grandmother spun will lead Irene off to safety. Such a string, due to a magic ring, is also capable of bringing forth a spur-of-the-moment rescue of Curdie too.
The Princess and the Goblin, though a simple book, was quite engaging, and entertaining. It was a child-friendly fantasy novel that will make you feel like a little kid yourself all over again.
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