The girl who couldn’t read.

Eric sitting beside a statue of the girl who couldn't read.

Illiteracy is a terrible thing.  Many, especially young people, do not appreciate the value of being able to read and write.  Then there are those that, for whatever reason, never learned to read and write even though they are adults.  Canada boasts a literacy rate of 99%, which is a testament to how much we value the written word.  Canada is also a first world country, one of the G7, and considered by many as the best place on the planet to live.  It is not coincidental that all these facts coincide. 

Being literate means being able to acquire information from a variety of sources.  It increases one’s ability to think and explore alternatives.  It is a skill set as valuable to an individual as nails, screws, and glue are to a woodworker.  Think of the careers which are unavailable to an illiterate person.  The general population in many third world countries cannot read or write.  As a result, that same group will not likely ever rise out of poverty and will destine their own children to a similar fate.  

The above photo represents a young girl who wants to read, but cannot.  The bronze statue has been vandalized; the book in the young lady’s lap has been stolen.  When I first saw her, I wondered what it was that she was doing.  A quick observation led me to the conclusion that she had been robbed.  With no opportunity to develop her reading, how would she ever utilize her potential?  Doomed to a static existence; literacy unrealized and underdeveloped, she represents much of the world.  They would read if they had the resources and the time.  Fate would give them neither.

The thing about fate is that it is often made by one’s situation.  Children are the adults of tomorrow.  Instead of fostering their abilities and teaching them basics like literacy, they are enslaved in work environments meant to empower others.  Child labour, subsistence farming, begging or even stealing to appease the aggression of overlords, their fate is sealed.  A book, a gentle touch, and some time could make all the difference in the world.

Thanks for reading.   www.ericspix.com

Forming Bonds.

People who play together stay together.

Chemistry is all about individual atoms, their properties, and the bonds that hold them together.  The strength of any molecule is dependent upon the nature of those bonds.  Certain molecules, such as tri-nitro-toluene (TNT) have unstable bonds and will react explosively with only the slightest provocation.  Other bonds, such as the one found in nitrogen gas (N2), are extremely hardy and difficult to break.  In fact, it is only very powerful agents such as lightning or specialized enzymes found in certain bacteria which are capable of it.

So, why all this talk about chemistry and bonds?  It is an analogy, a parable if you like, about the way people work together in a business.  It doesn't matter the job, whether education-related or construction or even super-geeks at some high tech enterprise; the parallels stick.  People are the atoms, some similar and others different.  Even similar ones have differences, as it is with isotopes.  The bonds that hold them together are the relationships between them.  Some have more power over others (chlorine vs sodium in salt) while others share power (such as in O3 - ozone).  The business, or form of relationship they are in, is represented by the molecule.

If you talk to a successful entrepreneur, he or she will tell you that the people making up their company are important.  A good boss who is respected and keeps staff turnovers to a minimum will tell you that employees are the backbone supporting the productive nature of the environment.  The nature of the people themselves is important, as it only takes one individual to turn something good like water (H2O) into something toxic like hydrogen peroxide (H2O2).  It is the stability between individuals though which really define the climate in the workplace.

How happy are the people working there?  Do they get along?  Do they spend time together outside of the work environment?  How much support does each individual get from administration and what is there to help them when crisis hits in their personal lives?  A good company/boss will care for the employees.  There is a reason for the axiom, "Happy wife, happy life."  Care for your partner, whether equal with you or not, show respect and think about their needs.  It works both ways, as a minion's underlying motivation should be, "How can I do a good job and get along with my cohorts?" and the manager's should be, "What do my employees need, and how can I make their life better but still get my job done?" 

One of the things which kills companies is staff turnover.  If people are happy, get along with fellow employees, and feel cared for and respected they stay.  They need opportunity, challenge, and support.  If that isn't true, they leave, looking for the place where they will be welcomed and fostered.  Businesses with high turnover are less productive because of the constant training which must be done and the loss of people with specific work-related skills.  The cost of keeping people happy is much less than the cost of replacing unhappy ones.

People have chemistry between them.  It is the nature of the bonds holding them together which makes them stay.  Organizations which foster the needs and relationships of its employees will be much more successful than those that don't.  There are those that criticize team building exercises.  Think again.  Would you rather belong to a cohesive group or a fractured one?  Find a place where the people are supported and get along and you will find happy people who are satisfied with their jobs.

People - it all just boils down to chemistry.

Thanks for reading.   www.ericspix.com

When conflicts arise.

A pair of white-tailed deer bucks - conflict without injury.

John Lenon's idea of a utopian society is laudable, but not possible.  The concept assumes that people would master their needs and desires for resources; human nature at its core is about the acquisition of them.  Nature, in fact, is exactly the same.  Any desirable resource limited in quantity will spark conflict.  Food, mates, space, nesting sites, hierarchy, and so on will always be needed and therefore something to be fought over, human or otherwise.

The question then becomes, "How to manage conflict" rather than, "How to avoid it."  At its core is the concept of civility, and civility is based on respect.  Manners are important, of course, but there are lots of well-mannered jerks about.  The crux must be on respect for humanity, right down to the unit of an individual.  We can be benevolent towards our fellow man in general, but when we don't get along with our neighbour, something is amiss.

Respect has to be a practical thing with real-world actions.  Its anthesis falls into the aphorism, "Do as I say, not as I do."  Goodwill towards men should not be a once-a-year event, rather it should be the basis for our choices every day, for everyone.  This does not mean no conflicts though, because that in itself is unrealistic.  Resources, goals, ambitions, and desires will always exist, especially in a world pushing towards a population of eight billion on the verge of a global warming catastrophe.  The key is respect.

I used the photo I took of a pair of tussling white-tailed deer.  They use what they have to establish dominance in a bid for territory and breeding rights.  The key though is that no one gets hurt.  Our skill set includes cognitive reasoning and communication.  If we use these in a respectful way, with the desire to manage a conflict towards an end everybody can live with, we all win.  I am not perfect at this, but it is a model which befits the objective.  Love your neighbour as yourself.  Gosh, where have I heard that before?

Using your passion to make money.

Aquatic environments and photography - my two great passions.

There is what we love, there is what we do, and there is what we love to do.  Everybody can testify to some aspect of their life which falls into each criterion, but it is the middle one that is most often employed to make a living.  The dreamer in each of us would want to make ends meet (and then some) through what we love to do.  Unfortunately, it is the thing which rarely pays the bills.

My dream as an adolescent was to be a freshwater fisheries biologist.  A strange goal, perhaps, but my love at that time was the outdoors and things that lived in and near the water.  It made sense to follow my passion and see where it all led.  Time is on the side of youth, so aspiring towards that goal might allow me to get paid for what I loved to do.  A Batchelor's degree from the University of Calgary started me in the right direction.  I worked for Alberta's Fish and Wildlife a couple of times, but the pay was never good and the terms only temporary. 

I spent a five year period trying to find work in that field, but more often than not had to obtain employment elsewhere.  I worked in photofinishing stores, did construction, and assisted handicapped groups all in the name of paying for lodging and feeding myself.  It became clear to me that my dream job was just that, a dream, and I needed both feet on the ground if I was to support a family.  So, I became a teacher because it was what I could do.  It didn't hurt that my wife was also a teacher, which allowed us to synchronize our holidays.  Thirty years later I have retired from that profession.

Along the way, my love of photography grew, and I eventually began teaching it as a home business.  Over the years (more than twenty now) I taught photography out of my home, and more recently, out of the local college.  Night classes, averaging one session a week, allowed me to combine my skills (teaching) with my developing passion (photography).  As I honed my expertise I started writing course booklets which followed the curriculum I had established.  Writes, rewrites, and updates cumulated in the two books I have now self-published and the two that are in the making.

My passion changed from maintaining and supporting freshwater ecosystems to photographing them.  My favourite thing to do is to explore aquatic environments with my camera.  The above photo is the perfect symbol of that.  I then use my images in my books, course booklets, teaching, and these blogs.  The wonderful thing is that I can make some money in the process.  Not a lot mind you, but that doesn't matter.  What I love about it is the fact that it gives purpose to my adventures; not only do I get to do what I love, I also get some financial reward.

If you can't follow your passion as a career choice, you can at least follow it as a hobby.  You may never be able to use it as your main source of income, but you may be able to use those skills to supplement it.  In the process, as your skill and name develop, it may open doors which were never otherwise possible.  If you can't dive, at least dabble.  You may go deeper than you think.

Suicide is anything but painless.

When everything around you seems barren and empty, life still holds beauty.

I have been the victim of suicide.  Not that I have died, and certainly not by my own hand, but my life has been shaped by the suicide and attempted suicides of others.  I understand only too well the hurt and anguish which can come into one's life.  Feelings of loneliness, ongoing depression, seemingly endless pain, hopelessness, and deep regret are the fuel that drives people to such desperation.  For those that succeed in their self-obliteration, they leave behind family and friends that will be scarred for life.  For those that do not succeed, their loved ones are left with the fear that another attempt may soon follow.

I speak from experience as a survivor of loved ones who have taken their lives or have tried unsuccessfully.  My mother's brother and her mother both died from self-inflicted wounds.  My very good friend from Red Deer died violently at his own hand using a gun, as did my uncle.  A neighbour down the street, not three doors away, also died; I saw the paramedics unsuccessfully try to revive him.  All of these have affected me in various ways, but it was the numerous unsuccessful attempts of suicide by my mother that really inflicted pain.

I can understand what started it all.  Her brother was deeply depressed and, in spite of medical interventions by her dad, he eventually ended his sufferings with a bullet.  Shortly after his death, her mother took her own life.  I do not know if there was mental illness in the family, but the events culminated in my own mother's downward spiral into depression and reliance upon alcohol.  This began when I was only 2 years of age; over the next 18 years, my mom made 7 suicide attempts on her own life.  Some occurred without my immediate knowledge, but others are seared forever in my mind. 

We were a dysfunctional family in many ways.  For me, I lived with the constant anxiety of wondering if I would find my mom or her corpse when I got home from school.  So many memories, so few of them positive, because it was not just the ongoing uncertainty of suicide but the unexpected explosive anger released by the alcohol coursing through her system.  I left home as early as I could, as did my sister, and when I was 20 years old I came home for the holidays.  It was Christmas eve, 1980, when my mom made her final thrust towards self-inflicted oblivion.  After an ambulance ride and our doctor's rigorous response, she gave up the drinking and the healing finally began.

For me, the die had been cast, and I have fought a lifetime of overcoming anxiety, self doubt, and internal anger.  I can say without hesitation that suicide, and attempted suicide, will throw loved ones into a state of chaos and misery.  Do not think it is a chivalrous end; rather it is a contemptuous beginning.  The pain in life is temporary, but the pain to others in death is permanent.  Weather the hard times, cling to life and those you love, and find sunny days once again.  The clouds will eventually part, even though you may not see them on the horizon.  And spare the ones you love the pain of losing you.

Thanks for reading.

The five hour ordeal.

I shot this photo of the Pitt River from the bridge on my walk this morning.

It started with a system error display on my information console in my jeep.  "Service electronic braking system" was flashed in front of me, between my "10 and 2" grips on the steering wheel.  Something was amuck.  Given the fact I just had a remote braking system installed that would allow me to flat tow my jeep legally behind my motorhome, I wasn't too surprised.  It had been a six-hour job, by the book, for them to install the hardware, but it was double that in reality.  Yesterday I made an appointment for them to look at what was causing the problem; I was to arrive there at 8:30.

I needed a plan to get there, drop my jeep off, and get home.  There were lots of options.  Wait for my daughter to pick me up at 11:00.  Take a cab.  Flat tow it there with the RV and then drive my rig, sans car, home again.  Or, there was the healthy option - ride my bike.  Riding my bicycle held the most appeal as it meant spending less money and not relying on anyone, plus there was the cardio benefit.  The problem was I hadn't ridden it in two years and it had been stored in a semi-sheltered area. 

Time and lack of maintenance have a way of degrading mechanical things.  I found the bike was covered in spider webs, stem to stern as it were, and top to bottom to boot.  Apparently, spiders really like the convenient distances between spokes, frame supports, chains, and cables.  So, at 7:00 in the morning I dragged out my powerwasher and gave the whole thing a good hosing down.  Once the cobwebs, dust, and other accumulated debris were removed it actually looked rideable. 

As I moved the bike around I found the chain seem somewhat kinked.  I raised the back end and rotated the pedals; the noise and jerky movement of the gears, changer, and chain left me quite unsure of its rideability.  I got some oil out and greased the various components; no difference.  Then I noticed the flat tires.  Time to fire up the air compressor.

The air was completely spent in the tubes and they needed refilling.  The tires were rated for 65 psi, and it would only take a few seconds to fill them.  I hooked everything up and pressed the delivery mechanism on the hose.  The gage read the gradual increase in pressure - 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 psi.  All very normal.  However, at that moment there was a tremendous BANG and the whole thing deflated.  OK; someone is trying to tell me something.  Clearly, this is not going to work.

It was now 7:45 and I had to go.  Fine; after dropping the car off I will walk to Pitt Meadows, buy a new bike there (given the horrible condition this one was in) and ride the rest of the way home.  So I was off, and I expected to arrive early at my destination assuming normal traffic.  The problem was that the day had been anything but normal, and the traffic fell right in line with that trend.  The news announced severe congestion on the bridge and it wasn't long before I experienced it for myself.  It was just as well because I ended up being there right on time.  Something had gone right for a change.

The fellow I was scheduled to meet was stuck in that same traffic I had previously experienced, and he was nowhere to be found.  Twenty minutes later he showed up, apologizing for his tardiness due to poor traffic.  We traded salutations and I handed him over my keys.  Before leaving I liberally applied sunscreen to myself because it was to be a scorcher and then retrieved my camera and bike helmet.  I was off.

It was 9:00 by now and the bicycle shop would be open at 10.  It was seven kilometers to my destination.  I actually had a very enjoyable stroll, taking several photos along the way.  My fatigue level was modest when I got to Harris road and the McDonald's there promised a reprieve from my journey.  A large glass of ice water, an ice cream cone, and McMuffin revived me.  I arrived at the bike shop sometime later.  They were understaffed so it took a while before getting to talk to someone. 

I bought a modest bicycle, made by Giant, a Canadian company, and, after strapping my helmet on, continued the trip home.  I have not ridden a bicycle in two years and my body rejected the idea.  Being determined to overcome my general lack of fitness, I pushed on.  There were only twelve kilometers to go, not very far when traveling by bike, especially given the relatively flat terrain.  The bike comes equipped with 24 gear combinations and I could only manage the lowest four.  I was in sad shape indeed. 

I arrived home at a little past 12:00.  It had been a five hour ordeal.  It all ended fairly well, I am still a little shaky though, three hours after the conclusion of my journey.  I phoned the place that was servicing my car; it seems they nicked a line somewhere and needed to replace some parts.  Thankfully they would take care of it.  My car will be ready to pick up tomorrow.   Now, how do I get there?