NO FILTERS

I vividly recall two incidents at Matt and Michelle's wedding and can now smile. Held outside in the beautiful gardens of Thornhill's Heintzman House, Matt and Michelle had just begun their vows when my Mother pointed with her cane and loudly announced, "Look dear, we see those flowers in Barbados". Startled, Jim and I gently hushed her and quietly pointed out that Matt and Michelle were speaking. Later, while seated at our table and for reasons unknown, she glared at a reception guest and announced for all to hear, "I don't like him". 

Bless her heart! My Mother had always been one to emphasize decorum and proper behaviour, but at 88 years of age and after suffering a debilitating stroke, she developed a tendency to blurt out comments, comments not always socially acceptable. Mom had lost her filters. Although often embarrassing, her comments were at least innocently laughable.

Watching Trump's speech in which he declared that 'Second Amendment People' could thwart Clinton's election, the full impact of the danger of a presidential candidate without filters became frighteningly evident to me. No matter how much Mr. Trump's campaign committee now attempt to smooth matters over, the spectre of political violence has been raised. The damage has been done. So much so, that the Secret Service spoke to the candidate today. Let us all now hope that some impressionable, mentally unstable gunman doesn't think of this as a legitimate direction. Dear God!

Fans of Trump's rude, condescending, mean and incendiary comments claim that he is just being honest. Not me. I  have huge issues with a presidential candidate who has no filters, whose racism, emotions, and anger so easily take control of his mouth. He appears incapable of completing a speech without going off script and voicing whatever nasty comment pops into his head. Jon Stewart refers to Donald Trump's "word puke". 

Mr. Trump is running for arguably the most powerful office in our free world. It is critical that he accept the importance and consequences of his words, and not just domestically. The protocol of international relations will not allow him the luxury of not caring what he says nor will it accept efforts to later smooth over his damaging comments.

I believe that The Donald lacks the temperament, desire and self discipline to develop such filters and among other reasons, is not qualified to hold the office of the President of the United States. My Mother had an excuse. You don't Mr. Trump.

YIPPEE KI YAY

Scores of city-dwelling Canadians daydream about ditching it all for a quieter, simpler country life. So quoteth the Globe and Mail which goes on to print, ......this is the life she always wanted: living among cows and goats.

Hrmph, I shake my head, four years ago Jim and I did just that, foresaking the traffic snarls and congestion of Thornhill for our retirement ranch in Uxbridge.

Ranch? Yah, right, you snicker in disbelief.

How's your acreage? Ummm! Well, we don't actually have acres, but our lot is a good size. Alright already, so it's a mini ranch.

What about outbuildings? All ranches have outbuildings. Oh, we have a cute little garden shed with window boxes. That should count!

....and fences? you further challenge. Hah! We have a cedar fence marking the perimeter of our rear yard. So there!

With, ...and your grazing herds???, you think you finally have me. Oh, ye of little faith. We do have herds - herds of hungry chipmunks, herds of feeding squirrels and herds of grazing rabbits, I smugly retort. Yup, laugh all you want, but to me, our yard has become a mini ranch......and Jim and I have become its ranch hands.

As ranch hands daily feed the cattle and cows, so Jim daily drags barrels of seed around filling bird feeders. 

I know! I know! You argue that the feed is for the birds not our herds. Please note that it is actually our herds of chipmunks and squirrels who greedily feed the most.

And ranch hand, Jim, diligently repairs and maintains damaged equipment to fences and buildings.....and to bird feeders too.

My job around the ranch is to plant gardens for our rapidly growing herd of voraciously grazing rabbits, who love all my flowers and greens. It's back breaking work to keep up.

Jim and I love to welcome visiting dudes to our retirement ranch. If you're in the area drop by. View our herds. Enjoy the back forty, metres, that is. We even provide delightful souvenir t-shirts. 

Well, gotta' sign off now. It's time to head out to the back forty. A ranch hand's work is never done. Yippee ki yay!

SOUNDS OF SUMMER

From all the misty morning air, there comes a summer sound, a murmur as of waters from skies, and trees, and ground. The birds, they sing upon the wing, the pigeons bill and coo. Richard Watson Gilder.

Just as smells can transport me instantly to a different time and place, sounds have that same impact, especially the sounds of summer.

Sailors would most likely mention the lapping of water on their hull while at anchor, the screech of seagulls overhead or the clank of unsecured halyards against the mast as they blow in the wind.  For golfers, it may be the resonating whack of a ball on the club face or the sweet plop of a successful putt dropping into a hole. A dear friend nostalgically speaks of how the echoing call of a loon transports her back to childhood days at the family's Muskoka cottage. We all enjoy our favourite sounds of summer.

An itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini. Oh, and then there are the songs of summer for different generations. Here Comes Summer by Cliff Richard, the Beachboys' Little Deuce Coupe, Robin Thicke's Blurred Lines or this summer's Justin Timberlake hit, Can't Stop The Feeling. My husband, Jim, is once again a teenager with new driver's licence in hand, every time he hears, Surfing U.S.A.

So aside from ambient temperature, blindfolded, what sounds would immediately signal to me that it is summertime?

The dawn chorus of bird songs and calls celebrating a new summer's morn. How I love that musical cacophony! Shhhhh-tik-tik-tik. The sound of a sprinkler system watering a lawn or golf course. The distinctive buzzing and clicking of cicadas transports me immediately to the hot summer days of my youth. Slap! Slap! Slap! Many may be irritated by what they refer to as noise, but the repetitive smack of flip flops is a universal sound of summer. And who can resist the splash of water accompanied by children's laughter? It's summer at the lake or pool. Ah, and then the clink of ice cubes in a glass. Be it lemonade, iced tea or an alcoholic beverage, those noisy cubes speak to me of lazy summer days or evenings.

Summertime.......music to my ears. Sigh! What are your sounds of summer?

AN OPEN LETTER TO JEB BUSH

Dear Mr. Bush,

In the Folio Section of the Globe & Mail today, in an article titled, Excuses, excuses: Who is bailing from the convention?, I read with interest that you will not be attending the GOP Convention and the crowning of Donald Trump as the Republican candidate for President of the United States. I get that; I wouldn't wish to be part of that farce either. But you then went on to state that you won't vote for either presidential candidate in November. Want to spin me out? Just tell me you are not exercising your precious right to vote.

Really, Mr. Bush? And you held yourself out as a presidential hopeful? As an example of a fine American citizen?

Please tell me how you can, in good conscience, rationalize that with the hundreds of thousands of Amercian military personnel who have died defending American freedoms and the right to vote? And you felt qualified to be Commander in Chief?

Let me remind you, in case you have forgotten, that your brother's efforts in Afghanistan and Iraq to protect America freedoms, resulted in a staggering 6,884 military casualties.  Are both of you now refusing to vote?

Getting the youth vote involved and out on election days has proven difficult in many democracies. What kind of example are you setting for young U.S. voters? Just stamp your spoiled little feet, whine that you don't like either candidate and relinquish your precious right to vote. Such stellar behaviour for a potential presidential nominee!

Your vote is private; no one has the right to know whose name you checked off, what political party you chose. So may I suggest, Mr. Bush that you choose the least worst candidate. Between the Liar and the Disaster, decide who has the potential to do the least damage to your beloved democracy, then 'suck it up princess', and exercise your precious right to vote.

Signed,

An Unimpressed Canadian

I'M BAFFLED

The issue of the Brexit referendum still confuses and upsets me.

1000's at 'March For Europe' Brexit Protest, the BBC reported yesterday as pro-Remain marchers along with citizens now regretting their Leave vote amassed in front of the British Parliament. 

Political Science 101: Government representatives in a democracy are elected to make determinations on behalf of the population. In fact, the very raison d'être of parliamentarians is to make decisions for their citizenry on difficult-to-understand, multi-layered issues. So why, I ask, would David Cameron so irresponsibly put such a complex issue to a public referendum, an issue that would have far reaching implications for the financial markets, the value of the pound sterling, British access to EU free trade markets and and the future of Great Britain?

As with most referenda, the campaign was exceedingly divisive playing on Islamophobia, racism and xenophobia, simple issues carrying a huge emotional punch. Make no mistake, a large proportion of Leave voters had little to no understanding of potential damaging economic repercussions; their vote was solely based on anti-immigration sentiment. Witness the massive number of Google searches by British citizens on the day following the narrow Brexit win.....

....or the number of post Brexit-vote interviews in which the now distressed voters whined that they had only wanted to make a point. Dear God! A little late, don't you think?

It is not the final Leave vote that perplexes me. I sadly understand how that happened. What baffles me is that Prime Minister Cameron, in an effort to keep the peace between the anti- and pro-European wings duking it out within the Tory party and so cynically disregarding concerns for his electorate, gambled the future of Great Britain by putting this complex issue to referendum. He gambled; Great Britain may have lost.

AREN'T YOU WORRIED?

As Jim and I finalize our September travel plans, that question has been asked of us at least a dozen times. 

In light of the heartbreaking tragedies in Paris, Brussels and now, Turkey, I understand the origin of the concerns, but have to smile and wonder. Did anyone ask this of my friends, Melissa who travelled with her family to Israel last summer, Lynne or Steve and Pam before their African adventures, or Ruth who has just returned from the Maldives and Sri Lanka? This is just Italy we talking about, folks!

Yes, I understand that The U.S. Government has placed a travel alert on Europe with danger levels as indicated in the following map,

but isn't there danger around every corner?  Last week, while sitting in a Toronto park enjoying a sunny summer day, a man was killed by a falling tree branch. A family driving home from a fun day at Canada's Wonderland died in a horrific car accident on Highway 400. Are there any guarantees in our life?

No, I am not worried and yes, Jim and I will continue to travel. Every travel experience has enriched our lives immeasurably and increased our understanding of the world around us. We always return to Canada with endless gratitude for our home country, but also with the realization that we Canadians have much to learn from the lifestyle enjoyed in other nations.

The travel industry is crucial to the economies of so many countries. If the potential of terrorism by ISIL or other crazies results in a significant reduction in travel, economic hardship could ensue and ISIL has won. We refuse to hand them that victory.

And so, bella Italia, here we come.

Funny thing, ironic actually, no one has ever asked us whether we are worried when we travel to the U.S. where 30 people die daily, victims of gun violence!

I'M FOR THE BIRDS

Hey, you didn't have to agree so quickly!

My obsession with the Washington, D.C. eagle nest-cam is apparently shared by 50 million other viewers who have followed this eagle family since two eggs were laid and then hatched separately, February 10 and 14. Freedom, the older sister eagle, and Liberty, her younger brother, have been the source of high drama of late, so much so that the American Eagle Foundation website server crashed today due to sheer volume of use.

Sibling rivalry, we were warned on the website, can often lead to the death of one of the young eaglets. Thankfully, Freedom and Liberty, whether sleeping, eating or merely sitting have been 'joined at the hip' from their life as baby chicks...

....through their growth over the past 11 weeks to young adulthood.

Contrary to popular belief, parent eagles neither teach their eaglets to fly nor do they nudge them from the nest. The desire to soar is inate and usually happens between eleven and fifteen weeks of age. In anticipation of their first flight (fledging), eaglets wingercize in the nest, hovering like mini harrier jets. Freedom has been ahead of Liberty, wingercizing with increasing frequency, her impressive wings spanning the giant aerie.

When, I wondered, will the thrill of soaring outweigh the fear of falling? Freedom must have known it was her time; at 2:30pm on Sunday, she tilted her beak, like a sailor reading the winds, and with nothing below her but air, she spread her wings, taking flight. Glorious flight. 

So why all of the drama? As Freedom flew, one of the two nest cams began scanning the tree line, searching for her in the trees opposite the nest. All attention was on Freedom until one of the cameras caught Liberty in the branches above the nest. He had spotted his sister.

And there he sat and he sat and he sat. His parent eagles brought food to the nest at dusk, but Liberty never descended from his perch to eat. Throughout the long night he sat, never losing sight of his sister's location. Honestly, no one will ever convince me again that birds are incapable of emotion. Come back, I imagine him squawking.

Hunger ultimately drove Liberty from his perch in the morning when mother eagle brought fish to the nest. ( Both parents will continue to feed their young until the eaglets vacate permanently.) 

Every drama must have comic relief. After eating and after his mother's departure, Liberty wandered the nest.....alone. For the first time he discovered the camera. Could he see his reflection in it? Was he asking if Freedom would ever return? Who knows, but he began pecking at the camera, creating the most amusing selfie of all time. 

As I write, the American Eagle Foundation website is again up and running. Apparently Freedom has been soaring from perch to perch while Liberty now sits even higher above the nest, never losing sight of his sister. (In the photo below: Freedom, yellow circle on left. Nest/Aerie, lower yellow circle on right. Liberty, upper yellow circle on right.) Liberty will survive Freedom's departure and he too, will soon know it's his time and take flight. Like a proud surrogate mother I will cheer, wave a loving farewell and even shed a tear.

Sadly, neither eaglet will ever return to this nest. After a summer of learning to hunt, they will find mates and create their own families and nests. The webcam? It will film a vacant aerie until the parent eagles, Mr. President and First Lady return in January to lay their eggs. I'll be tuning in next year. I wouldn't miss it. Yup! Forget TV, I'm for the birds!