Author: andrasthehun

A Taste of Canada: Getting Tick-ed

August 29, 2023

I contracted Lyme disease and take anti-biotics to get rid of it, doxycycline tablets for twenty-eight day. Not sure when a tick, those nasty tiny little bugs, gorged on my blood but suspect that when I cycled on a rail-to-trail over a month ago and stopped in the tall grass to relieve myself, a tick may have found me. That night my foot began to hurt, swelled up and was hot to touch, and the next day I could not put any weight on it.

The pain went away in a few days when I decided to see a nurse practitioner to find out what it could have been. She examined the foot but came up with no conclusions, so I ignored it. In retrospect, that was a mistake.

A month later, I had the worst shakes of my life, my teeth were chattering. The following days I had become extremely tired, moved like molasses, and lost my appetite to such an extent that I lost six pounds in a few days, symptoms of Lyme disease. On the positive side, if you can call it positive, I had no headache and fever. And then a rash appeared on my belly, another symptom of Lyme disease, that I was not aware of that time.

The symptoms convinced me to go back to my clinic and this time I saw another nurse practitioner who gave me a thorough examination and sent me for blood tests, including Lyme disease. But impatient to wait for the test results which would take numerous days in the labs, I admitted myself to emergency at the local hospital knowing that it could be a long wait, hours, to see an emergency doctor. But I would have the results immediately at the hospital emergency department.

Enterng the emergency room, a large sign welcomed me announcing that the waiting time to see a doctor is five hours, measuring at least four feet by four feet,. OK. Then I looked around and absorbed the cacophony generated by dozens of people in the room when a middle-aged and heavy person in a tennis outfit rolled around a wheelchair with, I think, his wife in it, who moaned loudly about the pain that she could not bear any more and wished to be dead. The scene reminded me of a lunatic asylum. Across from where I sat was a youngish fellow with a neck brace. Some people stood and shifted their feet back and forth; there were not enough chairs. The loudspeaker called my name and nurses triaged me asking about the reason for my presence here. I explained that I thought I had Lyme desease. The nurses took copious notes while measuring my blood pressure and pulse rate. And then I returned to the waiting room.

I observed the people around me and was struck by the diversity, i.e., including all shades of brown to black. Is this the composition of Ottawa today? Or are these the people who have no family doctors and forced to attend the hospital emergency room for health care? But then the loudspeaker called my name again for registration; I had to provide my address and other information, information that the hospital already possessed. During this time a little girl, perhaps three years old, held by her father, was crying constantly, adding to the loud buzz in the emergency room. This whole experience was emotionally taxing on me and imagined that there were people here who have had much more serious problems than I had. But Lyme disease can be very serious in the long run if not treated.

But after five hours, as announced on the large bulletin board entering the emergency room, my name was called again, and I entered a large room with a dozen or so examining rooms around a central area where the emergency doctors and nurses worked and consulted with each other. A nurse directed me to a small waiting room that I shared with a young teenager. He moaned about how hungry he was, having been here for eight hours with no food. I asked him if he would be picked up by his parents, when finished. Or were his parents waiting in the outer room and could get him some food at the food outlet next door? No, he said, his parents were not there, he will take the bus home after his stay at the emergency room experience. That surprised me and felt sorry for him.

It was close to midnight when an examining room had become available, and I was invited to enter it. I did not have to wait long, an emergency doctor came to see me and in ten minutes, prescribed an antibiotic for the blood test that showed a high count of white blood cells and another drug for the rash. And that was it; he said he did not know about Lyme disease.

Leaving after midnight after a seven hour stay tired me out. And I found it emotionally taxing observing all the people in the emergency room suffering from some ailment. But the simple recommendations of the emergency doc soothed me somewhat even though he did not confirm I had Lyme disease or even identify my illness. 

The bombshell came the next week when the the blood test the nurse practitioner ordered showed I had Lyme disease. I had been tick-ed. And I received the typical treatment: twenty-eight days of taking doxycycline.

I learned a few lessons from this experience. A conscientious nurse practitioner may provide excellent service. An emergency doctor treats obvious symptoms and may not search for root causes. And although I find emergency rooms interesting, I prefer to avoid them in the future.  When I go for a walk in the country now, I wear long pants and long-sleeve shirts and tuck my pant legs into my socks to make sure no nasty ticks can access my body for a blood-sucking treat.

Monetizing Past Grievances

August 8, 2023

I attended a concert, with fifty people in the audience, in Collingwood, ON, as part of the porch festival on July 26, in 2023. The concert triggered my thoughts on monetizing past grievances.

The porch festival evolved in response to Covid when artists could not perform in closed venues. Instead, people with a porch on their houses and a backyard welcomed artists to play on their porch to an audience in their yard, sitting on camp chairs.

Quammie Williams gave the concert, with Tiki Mercury-Clarke and a local bass player. Quammie, an accomplished drummer, singer, actor and consultant on culture – he was Director of Culture in Barrie, ON – sang and drummed African “resistance songs” with Tiki, who played the piano and ssng in an impressive tonal range.

As usual today at these venues, the MC started out by thanking the Ashininaabi (indigenous) people for letting use of their land for this concert. I am not sure what the homeowner thought about that.

Quammie and Tiki included history talks about slavery in between songs during the concert. Although I heard many of these stories before, I came to listen to jazz and began to get restless as the performance went on with lengthy stories. Quammie’s stories about the emotional toll of slavery on Black people were draining and should have been told with more anger and shouting. But no. Quammie quietly explained the stories behind the “resistance songs”, making his message of slavery even more powerful.

I looked around and beyond the three black artists on the porch, there was not one black person in the audience. But the audience lapped up the talk and the music and gave the performers a standing ovation. Whether the performers meant it or not, the underlying message was unmistakable: white folks were the slave owners creating hardship for Blacks. In my offbeat way of thinking, I thought the enthusiastic clapping was almost an exorcism for the well-heeled senior crowd, consciously or unconsciously, cleansing their souls of having embraced slavery in the past.  

I really enjoyed the music and my negative reaction towards being told to be grateful to the Anishinaabi and being responsible for slavery were fading, when I read that the Black Class Action Secretariat (BCAS in Toronto) sued the Government of Canada for past discrimination of black civil servants for C$2.5 billion in the court system.  I do not question that discrimination has occurred against Blacks in the Canadian federal civil service and wish it had not happened. The government should have solved this issue in the past. What concerned me was that past grievances have become issues for restitution, always resulting in monetary awards.

The mother of all these restitutions is the “reconciliation” process with Indigenous people in Canada. It started out with “reparations” for the Indian Residential School Settlement Agreement, that ended up with a C$5 billion settlement. Other claims followed. To date, over C$60 billion have been awarded to indigenous people by the government (there were circa 1.2 million Indigenous people in Canada in 2021). And other claims are in the pipeline. Compare this number to the Canadian defense budget that was C$26 billion in 2021.

I am afraid this trend to sue the government for past grievances will continue and the grievances will become weirder and weirder. Any minority group, ethnic, religious, or other, could organize a class action claim and sue the government for damages. Many may be legitimate, but I wonder if we should consider whether grievances to historical events should be compensated. How far back in history should we go to fix past wrongs made by previous generations?

Monetization of past grievances is a dangerous and costly trend and should be stopped. Why should the current taxpayers pay for injustices committed by previous generations?

Seniors’ Agonizing Dilemma

July 10, 2023

The children are gone, and we knock around in the large family home. The question arises: should we downsize? And, if so, should we buy or rent? This is an agonizing decision for seniors living in single-family homes.

If you are an empty nester, what thoughts percolate through your mind pondering these questions? Assuming that you do not have to move for financial reasons, health reasons, or because the neighborhood has changed for the worse, why should you abandon the family home, why should you downsize?

Well, one reason is that you use only half the available space. By downsizing, you would pay half the heating and air-conditioning costs and would have half the space to clean and dust. Property taxes would be less. A condo would have no grass to cut and landscape to maintain; the management company would do all of those, including snow removal. These are the advantages of downsizing to a condo. And since the management company would do all interior maintenance in a rental unit, you would also be spared that activity.

So, downsizing is a solution if house maintenance becomes too onerous, or if you do not want to do it anymore. But wait! How about hiring people to clean and work in the garden? So why downsize? Let’s do some more pondering.

What do we lose when we move into a condo or apartment? Without question, we lose privacy and space and are obliged to follow the rules and regulations of the condo and apartment unit.

We are going to lose the use of the front and back yards, the long double driveway, and the wide street in front of the house. And we have less living space. Much less space, and our friends, who downsized, confided in us that they ended up buying new furniture to fit into their new living space.

Other disadvantages could be noisy neighbors above and below, the smell from their cooking penetrating your unit, especially when windows are open, and access to the unit would be via parking in the garage and then an elevator and finally a hallway instead of just entering the current family house directly from the garage, a huge advantage when carrying groceries and stuff. Should I go any further?

I can see seniors agonizing over whether or not to downsize and then whether or not to buy a condo or rent an apartment.

All these ideas were racing through my mind when I heard good friends just sold their house and rented an apartment. But something was bothering me. My reflections concerned space, privacy, and freedom of action. But what about my lifestyle in the family home that I occupied for decades? Am I going to miss the BBQs on the deck I built in the backyard? Or, sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee in my hand watching the traffic on the street? Or my big office in the basement where I wrote a couple of books? And the other large recreation room where I practiced yoga watching the big screen TV? All these activities have acquired a familiar aura that I would throw away if moving to another place. Would I pay too high a price for moving out of our family home?

If you have lived in your home for a few decades, you have almost certainly changed your home to your taste, to your liking. The paintings, furniture, and objects in your home are expressive of your personality. The physical house becomes part of your identity, regardless of how much of it is embedded in your memory.

We are still in our family house. If we moved, I would certainly retain the knowledge of how I lived but it will not be the same as experiencing the real thing, for example, enjoying an outdoor BBQ with friends on a deck I built. I would lose part of my identity.

To My Blook, Where the Writing Hobby Took Me

June 11, 2023

You may ask what is a blook? Well, the word is a combination of the words blog and book. And a blook is a book consisting of blogs. It is a new word, first coined in 2003 by Jeff Jarvis, a well-known journalist from New York. Since then, several blooks have been published and the “Blooker” prize was established in 2006, fashioned from the “Booker” prize. Julia and Julie, by Julie Powell, was awarded the first Blooker prize in 2006; it is a cookbook based on blogs preparing the recipes of Julia Childs (a film by the same name was made in 2009).

I was intrigued by the concept of a blook and was inspired to compile my own do one since I have been blogging for a few years. The pandemic was the trigger for the start of my blogging. When avoiding people, and staying home had become not only desirable but periodically mandatory, when my gym and community center where I played bridge closed, what was I to do at home? I was retired with plenty of time on my hands. Expressing personal opinions and describing my activities in writing seemed like a good idea to keep me busy.

But my blogging begs another question: “What experience did I have in writing”? This is a relevant question since I had never worked as a professional writer; my writing was limited to technical and policy papers. After I retired, I did publish two books, a memoir, and a travel book.

I can anticipate your next question: “What made me write these books”? And the trigger to start writing my memoir was a friend who challenged me to write it because she said that my children do not know who I am. And she was right: I was a Hungarian refugee/immigrant to Canada in 1956, married a Welsh girl, spoke English at home, and never discussed much of my history with the family.

All of our children attended university, married, and settled in the US, limiting opportunities to discuss my early background. When my friend challenged me to write my memoir, I had to agree that she was right, and I got motivated and even excited, to write my memoir, primarily for my children and grandchildren.

To prepare myself for writing my first book, the memoir, I enrolled in the online university Coursera. I took several of their writing courses. The Coursera Zoom classes include lectures led by Wesleyan University professors and writing assignments reviewed by fellow students. I found it interesting reviewing others’ work, some people I found to be excellent writers, while others were novices. I thought I was somewhere between the two camps.

And I enjoyed receiving comments on my work, I learned much from these comments: one reviewer rebuked me for sloppy writing when I said I was at Kennedy Airport in New York City in 1957. The reviewer criticized me for my poor memory or for not having done the research. The correct name at that time was “Idlewild” airport. It is important to check your facts, especially when you write about events sixty years ago. Overall, I found the courses very helpful in practicing my writing skills.

To further my writing knowledge, I also signed up for writing blogs such as The Write Practice and took free Zoom lectures on how to do a memoir by Marion Roach Smith. In addition to reading “How to do memoir” books, I also read many memoirs. My favorite was “Born a Crime” by Trevor Noah, written with humor, and sensitivity about growing up in South Africa having a white father and a black mother. 

After a year’s work, I published my memoirs on Kindle Publishing and sent copies to all family members, awaiting their response. Some thought it was interesting and commented, “I never knew this” while one granddaughter found parts of it boring. At any rate, the family got to know me a little bit better.

Buoyed by having a book published, I was motivated to embark on another one, this time on our travels in Southeast Asia. As before, I read travel books such as the annual Best American Travel Writing series and took some Zoom courses as well on how to write about travel. My favorite travel authors were Paul Theroux and Bill Bryson.

I learned a few key lessons from the courses I have taken and the experience I have accumulated writing my two books: write about subjects that you know, express your personal opinions and feelings, and “show and not tell”.

The first one seems obvious, but it is interesting how easily one can get involved in matters unfamiliar to you, only to start looking up the internet for information. Although that avenue is useful and available to everyone, it is mostly informational. I found people are much more interested in your personal experiences and opinions. For example, a hotel in Barbados might tout its beauty on the oceanfront while someone who has been there may point out that the furniture is old and decrepit.

Before I started studying the fine art of writing my writing had reflected my positive, non-critical attitude.  But I soon realized that, in the writing of others, my interest was drawn more to their personal reflections and observations rather than my descriptive, non-critical approach.

And “show and not tell’ advises you not to use general statements like “it was a beautiful sky’ which is a “tell”, but rather “show” it in terms of its color, shading, cloud formation, and your reaction to it and let the reader interpret your description.

Having improved my writing skills and enjoying writing, I wondered, “What is next?” Another book was not of interest to me, and the pandemic had shut us down from travel and socializing. But I was still interested in writing, and I had the time to carry on with writing short pieces on select subjects where I express my thoughts and opinions.  

And so, I started writing; I wrote blogs about the pandemic, about the Ukrainian war, and about Canadian and Ottawa issues and controversies. The number of blogs I have written has grown and I thought that I should try to weave them together into a book format, the idea behind a blook. Look for my Kindle blook by the end of the year!

My Takeaways from a Graduation at Georgia Tech. in Atlanta

May 26,2023

We drove from Ottawa to Atlanta, a distance of close to 2000 kilometers, to see our granddaughter, Susanna, graduate in architecture at Georgia Institute of Technology.

How could we miss our granddaughter’s graduation? We did not but made me think we have a grandson graduating next year in Oregon; a granddaughter graduating, I think, in Colorado in two years, and another grandson graduating in Virginia the year after. Should we follow this precedent, that would be quite a travel plan for the next few years! Unfortunately, we missed the graduation of our eldest granddaughter who graduated from the University of North Carolina during the Covid shutdown.

Arriving in Atlanta during rush hour, exciting enough, was made even more challenging when we missed our destination, despite using Google Maps on my cell phone. The Google Map showing arrival in seconds just before my wrong turn, suddenly turned into seventeen minutes and a fifteen-mile drive. My four-letter word vocabulary quickly expanded, but it did not help. We had to get back on the interstate and circle back.

In the meantime, my son, Tony, was messaging us inquiring about our whereabouts. By the time we arrived back to where we should have turned left, Tony was standing on the street corner waving to us to be sure to make the left turn to arrive at our hotel, the Midtown Garden Hilton. 

The hotel was within walking distance of the Bobby Dodd Stadium in Atlanta, where the 2023 commencement exercises took place, and we walked to the stadium early in the morning.

The closer we got to the stadium, the more people joined us, forming a veritable migration by the time we stopped at the entrance to the stadium where a metal detector gate let people through, one by one. The only items allowed to be taken in were cameras, cell phones, and wallets, and I noticed that some people sported a new and useful product to enter metal detector gates: a plastic see-through purse carried by women.

The wall-to-wall crowd at the entrance gate exuded enthusiasm, I heard people talking proudly about their offspring getting a university degree from one of the elite institutions in the United States. Many of them were formally dressed while others donned jeans. We wore casual, informal clothing matching the early summer weather.

Once inside, we saw the graduating class sitting in rows of chairs in the middle of the stadium floor, facing the end of the football field, where a covered podium was constructed, above which a huge TV screen showed the action on stage. By the time we walked around the stands to the front, close to the podium, the stadium was a third full of its 55,000 capacity. The buzz in the air was loud and palpable, and we had to shout to communicate.

All the best seats were taken, especially those with a backrest. So, we rushed forward, up a few levels, and then down, trying to find seats from where we could take the best pictures of the President shaking hands with the graduates one by one, congratulating them on their achievement. We even found private boxes which had a good view of the ongoing events, but these rooms were glassed in, and we could not hear clearly what went on downstairs. After investigating the layout of the stadium and searching for good seats, we took seats close to the front of the football field.

Although it was not pronounced, I detected a slight accent listening to university president, Angel Cabrera’s introductory speech. He hails from Spain and received his Ph.D. from Georgia Tech in 1995, a nice elevation from student to president in twenty-four years. The Glee Club sang the national anthem following Dr. Cabrera’s speech.

Harrison Butker, the commencement speaker, surprised or perhaps shocked the audience with his recommendation on what the graduating students should do with their lives: he said they should get married and have a family. Now Harrison is not only an NFL hero, a football player with the Kansas City Chiefs, who wears two Super Bowl Rings, but also a Georgia Tech graduate who played football for the university. But his advice on how to conduct your future life created a stir in the audience; my other two granddaughters, college-age, immediately reacted with: “Who is he to tell me to get married? And you do not have to be married to have a family!”

Harrison’s argument centered on what he called the loneliness experienced by today’s youth, despite the connectedness people think they have through social media. He said you will not be happy with whatever you accomplish unless you share it with someone. To him, the sharing was with his wife and family that motivated him today and made him happy.

I thought Harrison was entertaining when he talked about teamwork and perseverance but disappointed when he brought religion into the commencement address, by recommending marriage. But his comments were no surprise, Harrison is a devout catholic and belongs to a conservative group that promotes the practice of an older version of Catholicism, including the belief that sermons should be in Latin.

Dr. Cabrera thanked Harrison for his speech and wondered aloud, with understated humor, how many marriage proposals would take place today.

The graduates were called onto the stage, to shake hands with the president, and proceed to pose before the “Rambling Wreck”, for an official photo. (The Rambling Wreck is a fully renovated Model T Ford, the school’s mascot that is driven around the stadium before each football game.)

The activity on the stage was projected onto the large screen above it for us to see each graduate walk by with their name on the screen.

I was dumbfounded in the beginning, seeing all the Asian and South Asian names following one after the other; of the first fifty graduates called to the podium, I counted twenty-nine Asian names. What is the ethnic composition of the student body here, I asked myself. According to recent statistics, twenty percent of the students are Asian or South Asian. Then I realized that the first to be called were the computer science graduates.

Much as I tried to get ready to take pictures of Susanna when she came by the Rambling Wreck, I had both my camera and cell phone ready, I missed the perfect shot. The pictures I took are out of focus. No matter. We joined up with her after the ceremonies at the architecture building, and took some pictures of her in her gown, along with family.

To celebrate her life milestone, the family went for dinner at NoMas! Cantina. The Cantina served Mexican fare in a space furnished with artifacts from Mexican artists, all of which are available for purchase. A unique place. I thought it was funky with umbrellas hanging from the ceiling, and masks and artifacts decorating the walls. Consistent with the Mexican theme, we started with a margarita, served in a two-foot-tall glass bottle, bulging at the bottom. It was sufficient for eight people.

The dinner punctuated a successful four years of study. So what is next Susanna? I asked. Following a stint with a large architectural firm in Atlanta this summer, she said she will attend Clemson University in South Carolina to study for a master’s degree in architecture.