A tale of the times

Once upon a time there was a politician who went around giving Speeches.  He gave Speeches to groups of ordinary citizens, and Speeches to members of his own party, and Speeches to the Rotary Club, and Speeches to the Board of Trade, and even Speeches to other politicians.  He gave Speeches to anyone who could be gathered into a room to listen.
It was a life full of Speeches, and in almost every case his Speech followed this simple pattern:  "I am not like that Friend of the Rich who is presently doing bad things.  If you elect me I will be on your side, and I will do only good things.  So elect me."

Elections came and went, and each time most of the electorate voted not for the Politician Who Gives Speeches but for the Friend of the Rich, who said, "Vote for me and you will become rich.  But if you elect the Politician Who Gives Speeches, the paupers will take over."

Each time the gap narrowed, however, while the Politician Who Gives Speeches got better at delivering his Speech.

Then the Friend of the Rich did some things which almost everyone could see would not make them rich, so a vocal minority complained.  They complained and complained.  They even circulated petitions, which they all signed.  The Polls started to drop for the Friend of the Rich, and then for his Party.

So the Politician Who Gives Speeches said, "I am not like that Friend of the Rich who is presently doing bad things.  If you elect me I will be on your side, and I will do only good things.  You now NEED to elect me."
At which point a Northern Colleague of the Politician Who Gives Speeches said, "Do you not have another speech?  You always give the same one, and it's starting to sound vacuous."
To which the Politician Who Gives Speeches replied, "Not only are you going to bed without dessert, but you're also no longer welcome at the Party."  And kicked him out.
Friends of the Northern Colleague said, "Why should saying what has been obvious for years get you kicked out of the Party?  We should ask to Party Council to tell us.  There's a Meeting coming up; we'll ask them then."

Meanwhile, the Friend of the Rich was losing the confidence of his own Party, so he made one last, desperate, move.  He said to the voters, "Here, have some of your own money.  That will make you feel rich and vote for me."
But the jig was up, and the gambit didn't result in even a small bump in the Polls.  The Friend of the Rich had become the least popular politician in the Land, so his Party turned on him, and he was forced to resign.

The Meeting of the Council of the Party was held in private, so we don't know exactly what was said.  We do know that it was a splendid affair, complete with yellow ribbons and badges demonstrating love for the Politician Who Gives Speeches and trust in his Speech, and that there was much Press speculation about strategies and coup attempts.  When it was over the Council reported that the Politician Who Gives Speeches only needs one Speech, which will get him elected next time.  They also said nobody could force them to listen to the Northern Colleague or his friends, and that if those people didn't like his Speech, they should just shut up about it.

By the way, since the Friend of the Rich resigned, his Party has gone back up in the Polls...

...To be continued. 
(Clearly, this story hasn't ended yet; it has too many loose threads!)

Paean to polyurethane

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a retired man in possession of a good pension will eventually be in want of a greenhouse.

When one retires, people you hardly know apparently start to worry.  You meet them in a store or while walking, and they invariable greet you with, "So how're you doing?  Keeping busy?"
Of course you are, but even if you aren't, particularly, you're obliged to say, "Never busier!" because that puts most such interlocutors at their ease, and then you can get on with phase two, the expressions of envy, followed by the real conversation, which is about them.
But sometimes, maybe anticipating some lacuna in their own and future retirements, you'll be pressed on the point: "So what are you up to?"
And then you have to try to explain.
When I first retired, no problem.  I could talk about writing projects, which are so obviously all-consuming that they're just like a real job.  Especially if you've managed to publish a few times.  Besides, this explanation merged seamlessly with the stereotypical retirement of anyone who has managed an entire career in the English-teaching trenches.
But then, before the first year was out, that phase ended, along with the need to talk about some of the things I'd learned in my career.  And I wasn't planning to start a new career, or even to fill my days with either charitable or academic endeavours.  I had papers and books to read, a dad to look after, and a dog to walk; I was going to retire, properly.
Normally, that would mean a good deal of gardening, but I'm an indifferent gardener.  That is to say, I like our garden fine, and I don't want to annoy the neighbours needlessly.  I'm willing to put some time and effort into garden maintenance, but I'm a long way from fanatical.  My idea of landscaping is mostly rhododendrons, fruit trees, woodchips, a lawnmower, and some vegetables, while Sandy does flowers in pots and in a few designated areas.
Definitely not fanatical.
This was a fact noticed by our new neighbour.  Shortly after he had moved in and was busily chopping the trees, planting the lawns, and having a concrete driveway complete with retaining wall built, he remarked that he found our yard "interesting", and (digging to the very bottom of his drawer of words one uses in the presence of someone who could easily have been one's English teacher) "eclectic".
Of course he was spot-on, and consequently we have been the best of neighbours ever since.  I even got into the spirit a bit, and dug out the bamboo.
Clearly "gardening", in my case, doesn't cut it as an explanation of how I manage to fill my days and I had a dilemma.
Then, last spring, I saw a greenhouse in the catalogue.
It was not terribly expensive, and the photo in the catalogue was very promising, as was the text, a charming dissonance featuring words like "Victorian", "aluminum", and "polycarbonate".
So I ordered it.
It came promptly, in two boxes, one of which also contained excellent instructions.  I could see immediately that I would have no particular trouble putting it up.
Did I mention I'm also an indifferent carpenter?  Fortunately not so indifferent that I didn't know that the base would have to be both square and level.  Consequently, I made it so.  Then I drilled holes in that base, and pounded in rebar to anchor it securely into the glacial till which passes for soil where we live, because, particularly in winter, we also have Southeasters, to which this greenhouse would be fully exposed.  I had no wish to be the author of the Flight of the Greenhouse.
Installation went relatively quickly and much as anticipated.  When it was done, I moved a number of large containers planted with patio tomatoes into it, and provided a water supply.  Let the growing begin!
Next morning, there were several panels on the ground, accompanied by their plastic "secure strips".  Naturally, I assumed I hadn't gotten them in quite right, so undid the relevant nuts to loosen the frame a bit, replaced the panels, clicked in the strips, and secured the nuts.
Later that day, several other panels were on the ground.
You get the picture, and I don't want to bore with the details.  Suffice it to say that over the next several months, as I tried the many "fixes" I had concocted in the middle of the night or that had been proposed to me by bemused observers, choice words were spoken on the subject of greenhouses designed in Israel, where obviously it doesn't get windy. Before long the whole saga was starting to remind me of a tent I'd owned in my youth, made by Taiwanese who had obviously seen pictures, but had never needed to shelter from the elements in one... Anyway, do Israelis even need greenhouses?
And then, after a recent wind storm, having collected more than half a dozen panels from the park across the road and as I was contemplating leaving the bare aluminum bones unclad until spring, I had a flash of inspiration: I remembered that in the basement I had a tube of polyurethane construction adhesive left over from another project.  And I remembered that polyurethane glue isn't repelled by moisture; it likes it!  Not only that, but it bonds to almost anything (my hands still bear the proof), can fill gaps, and sets up hard.
Definitely worth a try.
Flash forward a few weeks: we've had several real winds, the kind where every part of the house creaks.  The greenhouse is still standing, hasn't lost even one panel.
I have every intention of filling it with tomatoes again next spring.
And when people want to know how I fill my days, I say "greenhouse", and that explains everything!

BC politics: Two Caroles, HST, and Recall

Two Caroles

OK, I admit it: I was almost certainly wrong when I explained, a year ago last September, why Carole Taylor would be the first elected female Premier of BC.
But I couldn't have known then that she would get that irresistible Simon Fraser University Chancellorship offer or that the BCLiberal brand would become tarnished almost beyond recognition.  So it's not really my fault.
However, I still think I'm correct in saying that Carole James won't be the next Premier, whether that Premier is female or not.  Last year's argument is merely butressed by the way she bounced Bob Simpson out of Caucus, without either consulting the Caucus or confronting the legitimate issues he had raised.  And then, by way of cementing our impression that she's tone-deaf politically, accusing him of once having been a Liberal.
As if we don't want ex-Liberals in our camp!
As if Carole James is convincing as a tough guy.
I don't know if it's Carole, or her advisors, but either way I haven't changed my mind: we're probably not going to be government with her as our spokesman.

Harmonized Sales Tax

Rumour has it there are many NDPers involved in the anti-HST campaign.  Apparently they think it would be good if this tax were defeated in the referendum next September.
I don't get it.
With what would they replace the HST?  Or do they imagine that the social programs we desperately need to rebuild in this province won't need to be financed?
I know the HST is not a very equitable tax, and I agree that the way it was implemented was underhanded, perhaps even dishonest.  However, western-European countries with far more equity and far better social programs than ours manage with their own versions of the value-added tax, all at a much higher rate than the HST.  We could do much worse; we could become California.
The BCNDP cannot afford to become the "no tax" party, and we need to be honest about the HST. 
Imagine for a minute that the HST is rejected next September.  Does that give the Liberals the tools to sell off crown assets like BC Hydro and ICBC?  Does that give them carte blanche to to start disassembling public health care and public education?  Do they raise personal income taxes enough to cover the loss?
I'm pretty sure they wouldn't take the opportunity to raise corporate income taxes!
And what could we do if we became government shortly after such a vote?  Pass the hat?
No, we'd better hope the HST passes the referendum, and we'd better say so publicly.  Because if it does, and we haven't, the Liberals will have won, and so will their chances in the next election.

Recall

In 1999, when we were the government and the Premier was a guy named Glen Clark, another guy named Kevin Falcon tried to organize the province-wide recall of all 40 NDP members.
He wasn't successful, but his campaign created a lot of heat for, and sucked up a lot of resources of, sitting NDP members.  It also kept attention away from the Opposition of the day, led by a guy called Gordon Campbell.
I've always believed we were against recall.  I thought that's one of the reasons the Mike Harcourt government (obliged by a legacy of the Bill VanderZalm government) made it so hard to clear the hurdles.
In a representative government style of democracy, the kind we have, you don't want your MLA to be constantly looking over his or her shoulder, worrying where the next threat is coming from, unable to commit to anything the least bit controversial.
That's what elections are for.