Ready or not, here we climb.
I realized right away that I was the most prepared for this trip when I climbed into the ‘jimmy’ in Saskatoon and heard the whoops and hollers in reaction to the cooler bag I brought along filled with food and juice. The three boys, one previously unknown to me, continued to confirm my suspicions as we went along and I realized that mine was the ONLY food or drink in the car. Nevertheless, after an overnight stop in Calgary at someone’s parents house, and a trip to MEC for (essential) climbing gear, we were ready to hit the rock…or so I thought.
We made the short drive to Heart Creek and started unpacking our gear in the parking lot at the base of the mountain. This is when I realized that I was the only one to pack a backpack. So, during our trek up to our climbing spot, I carried all of the gear including the rope, which I had just bought, brand new draws, and harnesses and shoes for all. By the time we arrived at our destination (Solstice), we were all ready for a drink, which is when we realized that I was the only one to have brought a water bottle. In fact, none of the others had brought water at all! Pushing the thought of a day of climbing and hiking without water out of our minds, we started to set up our route. Brett climbed first and completed the route on lead. Unfortunately, as he was finishing the route, some dark clouds rolled in accompanied by thunder. As we were quite high at Solstice with a valley below us, we decided to strip the wall (notice, no more draws on the rock) and get down. We got poured on during the hike down but by the time we were at the car the rain had stopped and we enjoyed a quick lunch in the sun before heading back up. We continued to climb all afternoon until the newbie, made a rookie mistake and left a knot in the rope before trying to take it down at which point it got stuck in the anchors at the top of the route.
After Brett had hiked around to the top of the route and failed to retrieve the knotted end of the rope with a large stick, I hiked down to “first rock” another, more popular climbing spot, to ask some francophones if I could borrow a rope to be able to climb back up and get ours down. They were kind enough not to laugh at our rookie mistake and so I made a third hike back up to Solstice with a heavy rope in hand. Upon arrival I realized that the boys had found another method using the other end of our rope, to climb back up and get ours down.
Other than a few scraped knees, the next day went a lot smoother and we got much more climbing in (without the added bonus of dehydration). We may not have been the most prepared or experienced climbing group at Heart Creek that weekend but it sure made for an interesting trip – one to be repeated.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
New Mommies
Yummy mommies, parenting, and the realization that I won’t look this good forever
It all began a few weeks ago on one of the few sunny and mildly warm spring days when I had the urge to be outside, the outstanding natural consequence of a long Saskatchewan winter. There was no concern as to what I would do in the urban wilds of Saskatoon, I only wanted to fulfill the insatiable urge to breathe fresh air, synthesize vitamin D, and enjoy the spectacle of other people doing the same without my eye lashes freezing together. On this particular occasion I found myself on one of several benches on a cul-de-sac off the sinuous Meewasin trail with some fresh Ethiopian dark roast and a copy of Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls in my possession. After only a few pages into one of history’s classic portrayals of the human spirit I found myself instantaneously swept up into a world I had never known before that captivated me in a completely unexpected way. Surrounding me was a posse of women, armed with oversized baby carriages to the extent that it was difficult to tell if there were even infants residing in them, outfitted in the latest LuluLemon fashions, and who were all being ushered by a similarly outfitted woman of a military officers persuasion. Not quite the persona of one Sgt. Hartman of Full Metal Jacket fame but frightfully officious for such a subtle spring day. The Officer commanded her troops to do a variety of exercises on the other benches in the cul-de-sac surrounding me including squats, push-ups, and dips, in between doing short running intervals down the path and back with the previously mention baby chariots. What interested me was not the exercise routine or the tight fitting clothing of some reasonably attractive women, rather it was that I was witnessing the transformed entity of the young mother, the one half of the modern day yuppie couple, a creature I have had few encounters with (or so I thought) and who are so vastly different from the mothers I knew when I was a child. So I could not help but wonder what other things existed in the foreign world of the new mom, and since this is to be something resembling an intellectual endeavor, what if anything could I subsequently conclude about parenthood.
A brief search of the Internet revealed that if you are a mommy and have money there are a plethora of options to get fit, have fun, and partake in the new mommy vernacular with other women, infant in tow. The Galaxy theatre offers a 1:00pm movie matinee for “parents with babies”. I was originally going to conduct some old school anthropological field work by attending one of these viewings however I did not because 1) without a child of my own I would have been taken for a creeper as opposed to the man of science I am, 2) I didn’t have a temporary infant available to me to prevent the previous point, 3) they generally have the deal for really shit movies of which I am a harsh critic, and 4) there probably would have been some unjust criticism of the pediatric emergency department along the lines of it taking forever for their child to be seen just to get sent home with a prescription for antibiotics, upon which I would have had no choice but to inform them that a) their wait was a consequence of their own stupidity for bringing the kid to an EMERGENCY department for a runny nose, and that b) they should be glad it wasn’t anything more urgent than that because having your child undergo an IV, lumber puncture, and an in-out urinary catheterization is an ugly experience, after which I would have been escorted out of the theatre by some rent-a-cop covered in orange soda. Thus I will hypothesize the potential observations I could have made.
There would have been much pre-show chatter about how wonderful their infant was, the new things the babe was doing (i.e. vocalizations towards food, riding the cat etc.). There would have been some seriously complicated maneuvers to get their giant infant chariots into the damn theatre. One third of the women would breast feed in the open, one third would breast feed under some outrageous blanket/tent contraption even though the theatre would be dark, the final third would bottle feed, and at least one straggler would totally forget to feed their kid in a desperate attempt to focus on Brad Pitt’s luscious abs and said kid would thus make a racket all through the movie. Some of the parents would bring an older sibling to the movie and thus fail as all parents do at managing multiple children in a public setting that requires silence. I could go on but I better refrain as none of this is supported by actual observation.
My search also revealed mom and baby yoga classes and new mommy chat rooms of minimal interest. What peaked my interest were the infant chariots that now seem to dominate the streets of my fair city this spring. The bloody things are everywhere. I have seen them so large that one mother had to disassemble one wheel in order to get it through the door of my local corner store. It was such an unnecessarily labor intensive and awkward process that I concluded that those chariots are impractical and stupid. But they are fully loaded and contain bells and whistles I never though possible. These infants are so equipped that they could do the Annapurna circuit in winter or traverse the bombed out ruins of Beirut. And not surprising if one has those technological abilities then they have paid the appropriate sum. In a recent conversation with friends that are expecting this summer I expressed my shock and awe at the scale and cost of baby purchases. My mind was subsequently blown away when I was told that they had spent $750 on “little things” for the baby’s room, sans crib. They told me of this baby monitor that has an HD flat screen with digital audio activated by a motion sensor for $319.99 at Babies R Us (the Toys R Us attempt at staying alive in light of the fact that stupid parents are raising stupid children because they buy them electronics instead of toys). I said “seriously, wtf?” and proceeded to down my Strongbow.
Initially I wasn’t sure why I had an interest in people and their babies but when I thought about it I realized that talk of babies and parenting is all around me. Most of the people around me friends or colleagues are married and fully involved in popping out cute, cuddly, wrinkly, eating machines. So could I do the same? I am pretty sure I am more than capable of being a good parent. From my life and work experience I don not find kids scary or mysterious. They are fun, creative, energetic, inspiring, resilient, and happy. Early on if you keep them fed, watered, safe, active, and entertained they are fine. But the longer you have kids the more control you lose over them and the more control you lose over your relationship with your partner.
As kids grow into teenagers they explore the world much to the demise of their parents sanity. To me the hardest part of being a parent would be when your kids are out there in the world making mistakes and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to protect them. There is almost a certainty that your kids will try drugs, drink to the point where they put themselves in dangerous scenarios, have unsafe sex, and subject themselves to emotionally devastating situations, shit I did. These can be the most self-destructive behaviours or they can represent brief periods of exploration with little lasting effect. But for parents there is no way of knowing which way your kids will go and this must kill them. I’ve known good kids to get completely fucked for life from one bad decision. I also have friends who got knocked up as a teenager and turned out to be the most beautiful and brilliant of people. A parent doesn’t want their child to get pregnant at 16 but if they turned out amazing where’s the problem? Subsequently this scenario brings forward another challenge, the idea of children challenging their parent’s morality and worldview, and that is not easy for anybody to deal with especially know-it-alls like myself.
The other issue is that the longer a couple have children and the more children they have the less of a priority the relationship between them becomes in their lives. This could be seen as natural given the limited resources in energy and time parents have when trying to provide the best for their family. I have seen it in full effect. Communication goes by the wayside, individual interests become superseded, and what brought the two people together in the beginning becomes forgotten. In this time of affluence and personal freedom the impetus to stay together for reasons such as finances or support is less of a priority so it is not surprising that many marriages now end when the reason for a relationship between the parents becomes forgotten. This is not to say all relationships end up this way but nearly 50% now do. However, I would say it is almost certain that all marriages experience those stressors that can lead to marriages ending.
So in order for me to address the question “could I be a parent?” really I have to come to terms with “can I watch my child get hurt?” and “can I still love when I have little love left to give?” What scares me is that the answers to these questions is no. Unfortunately the only way to find for sure is to just give it a try. So concerning myself with infant chariots, stupid parenting gadgets, and ridiculous looking people doing ridiculous things with their children is pointless. Each to their own as some wise person once said.
It all began a few weeks ago on one of the few sunny and mildly warm spring days when I had the urge to be outside, the outstanding natural consequence of a long Saskatchewan winter. There was no concern as to what I would do in the urban wilds of Saskatoon, I only wanted to fulfill the insatiable urge to breathe fresh air, synthesize vitamin D, and enjoy the spectacle of other people doing the same without my eye lashes freezing together. On this particular occasion I found myself on one of several benches on a cul-de-sac off the sinuous Meewasin trail with some fresh Ethiopian dark roast and a copy of Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls in my possession. After only a few pages into one of history’s classic portrayals of the human spirit I found myself instantaneously swept up into a world I had never known before that captivated me in a completely unexpected way. Surrounding me was a posse of women, armed with oversized baby carriages to the extent that it was difficult to tell if there were even infants residing in them, outfitted in the latest LuluLemon fashions, and who were all being ushered by a similarly outfitted woman of a military officers persuasion. Not quite the persona of one Sgt. Hartman of Full Metal Jacket fame but frightfully officious for such a subtle spring day. The Officer commanded her troops to do a variety of exercises on the other benches in the cul-de-sac surrounding me including squats, push-ups, and dips, in between doing short running intervals down the path and back with the previously mention baby chariots. What interested me was not the exercise routine or the tight fitting clothing of some reasonably attractive women, rather it was that I was witnessing the transformed entity of the young mother, the one half of the modern day yuppie couple, a creature I have had few encounters with (or so I thought) and who are so vastly different from the mothers I knew when I was a child. So I could not help but wonder what other things existed in the foreign world of the new mom, and since this is to be something resembling an intellectual endeavor, what if anything could I subsequently conclude about parenthood.
A brief search of the Internet revealed that if you are a mommy and have money there are a plethora of options to get fit, have fun, and partake in the new mommy vernacular with other women, infant in tow. The Galaxy theatre offers a 1:00pm movie matinee for “parents with babies”. I was originally going to conduct some old school anthropological field work by attending one of these viewings however I did not because 1) without a child of my own I would have been taken for a creeper as opposed to the man of science I am, 2) I didn’t have a temporary infant available to me to prevent the previous point, 3) they generally have the deal for really shit movies of which I am a harsh critic, and 4) there probably would have been some unjust criticism of the pediatric emergency department along the lines of it taking forever for their child to be seen just to get sent home with a prescription for antibiotics, upon which I would have had no choice but to inform them that a) their wait was a consequence of their own stupidity for bringing the kid to an EMERGENCY department for a runny nose, and that b) they should be glad it wasn’t anything more urgent than that because having your child undergo an IV, lumber puncture, and an in-out urinary catheterization is an ugly experience, after which I would have been escorted out of the theatre by some rent-a-cop covered in orange soda. Thus I will hypothesize the potential observations I could have made.
There would have been much pre-show chatter about how wonderful their infant was, the new things the babe was doing (i.e. vocalizations towards food, riding the cat etc.). There would have been some seriously complicated maneuvers to get their giant infant chariots into the damn theatre. One third of the women would breast feed in the open, one third would breast feed under some outrageous blanket/tent contraption even though the theatre would be dark, the final third would bottle feed, and at least one straggler would totally forget to feed their kid in a desperate attempt to focus on Brad Pitt’s luscious abs and said kid would thus make a racket all through the movie. Some of the parents would bring an older sibling to the movie and thus fail as all parents do at managing multiple children in a public setting that requires silence. I could go on but I better refrain as none of this is supported by actual observation.
My search also revealed mom and baby yoga classes and new mommy chat rooms of minimal interest. What peaked my interest were the infant chariots that now seem to dominate the streets of my fair city this spring. The bloody things are everywhere. I have seen them so large that one mother had to disassemble one wheel in order to get it through the door of my local corner store. It was such an unnecessarily labor intensive and awkward process that I concluded that those chariots are impractical and stupid. But they are fully loaded and contain bells and whistles I never though possible. These infants are so equipped that they could do the Annapurna circuit in winter or traverse the bombed out ruins of Beirut. And not surprising if one has those technological abilities then they have paid the appropriate sum. In a recent conversation with friends that are expecting this summer I expressed my shock and awe at the scale and cost of baby purchases. My mind was subsequently blown away when I was told that they had spent $750 on “little things” for the baby’s room, sans crib. They told me of this baby monitor that has an HD flat screen with digital audio activated by a motion sensor for $319.99 at Babies R Us (the Toys R Us attempt at staying alive in light of the fact that stupid parents are raising stupid children because they buy them electronics instead of toys). I said “seriously, wtf?” and proceeded to down my Strongbow.
Initially I wasn’t sure why I had an interest in people and their babies but when I thought about it I realized that talk of babies and parenting is all around me. Most of the people around me friends or colleagues are married and fully involved in popping out cute, cuddly, wrinkly, eating machines. So could I do the same? I am pretty sure I am more than capable of being a good parent. From my life and work experience I don not find kids scary or mysterious. They are fun, creative, energetic, inspiring, resilient, and happy. Early on if you keep them fed, watered, safe, active, and entertained they are fine. But the longer you have kids the more control you lose over them and the more control you lose over your relationship with your partner.
As kids grow into teenagers they explore the world much to the demise of their parents sanity. To me the hardest part of being a parent would be when your kids are out there in the world making mistakes and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to protect them. There is almost a certainty that your kids will try drugs, drink to the point where they put themselves in dangerous scenarios, have unsafe sex, and subject themselves to emotionally devastating situations, shit I did. These can be the most self-destructive behaviours or they can represent brief periods of exploration with little lasting effect. But for parents there is no way of knowing which way your kids will go and this must kill them. I’ve known good kids to get completely fucked for life from one bad decision. I also have friends who got knocked up as a teenager and turned out to be the most beautiful and brilliant of people. A parent doesn’t want their child to get pregnant at 16 but if they turned out amazing where’s the problem? Subsequently this scenario brings forward another challenge, the idea of children challenging their parent’s morality and worldview, and that is not easy for anybody to deal with especially know-it-alls like myself.
The other issue is that the longer a couple have children and the more children they have the less of a priority the relationship between them becomes in their lives. This could be seen as natural given the limited resources in energy and time parents have when trying to provide the best for their family. I have seen it in full effect. Communication goes by the wayside, individual interests become superseded, and what brought the two people together in the beginning becomes forgotten. In this time of affluence and personal freedom the impetus to stay together for reasons such as finances or support is less of a priority so it is not surprising that many marriages now end when the reason for a relationship between the parents becomes forgotten. This is not to say all relationships end up this way but nearly 50% now do. However, I would say it is almost certain that all marriages experience those stressors that can lead to marriages ending.
So in order for me to address the question “could I be a parent?” really I have to come to terms with “can I watch my child get hurt?” and “can I still love when I have little love left to give?” What scares me is that the answers to these questions is no. Unfortunately the only way to find for sure is to just give it a try. So concerning myself with infant chariots, stupid parenting gadgets, and ridiculous looking people doing ridiculous things with their children is pointless. Each to their own as some wise person once said.
83 cents
Today I gave 83 cents to a guy sitting on the sidewalk.
I was walking on busy Mont-Royal street in Montreal last week and, like all major cities in the western world, there was a guy sitting on the street pan-handling for money. I was walking out of a kitchen store, having just bought a hanging fruit basket for my new condo. The guy on street didn’t say anything, didn’t ask for money, he was just sitting there with a dirty hat on the sidewalk full of change. Considering the inanity of my new fruit basket I reached in my pocket and pulled out all of the change I had, 83 cents, and dropped it in the hat. There was not exchange of words, no questions asked, a big city event that happens thousands of times a day.
A few days later I was cycling on the same street and experience some “technical difficulties” with my bike. I stopped on the sidewalk near a grocery store to fix my bike. In front of the exit of the store was another guy, for all I know it was the same guy, sitting with a dirty hat on the sidewalk. However, there was something more noticeable about this scene, there was another guy kneeling beside the guy on the street, chatting. The guy kneeling was clearly not pan handling and was asking the guy with hat question about his life and how life was living on the street, maybe he was a sociology student, who knows. I was happily eavesdropping on the conversation.
Guy kneeling: So long do you usually stay in one place before you move or are forced to move by the store staff?
Guy with hat: That depends. I almost never get kicked off the curb by the stores. I don’t bother people, I’m not one of the crazy people, I just sit on the street with this hat. I almost never even ask for money, I just sit here. If I’m making money I’ll stay all day, just depends how money I’m making really. I usually go home around 9 at night, there are less people after that and the cops get a bit more picky when it gets dark, they don’t want people to be scared.
Guy kneeling: So how much money do you normally make in a day?
Guy with hat: Shit, today like 19 dollars. It’s really slow. I usually have my two big German Sheppards with just sitting on the sidewalk panting like crazy when it is hot. Those are the days I make good money, like 150 bucks or so. I can’t bring the dogs with me as much anymore because I just got a new apartment in Verdun and it’s really far to bring the dogs on the subway and bus and people get pretty mad about that. I need to get one of those seeing eye dog things so I can everywhere.
Guy kneeling: So why did you move out Verdun?
Guy with hat: I used to live here (in the Plateau) but it’s pretty expensive. I was living in this shitty place and didn’t have any TV or anything. My new place I’ve got a computer and internet and I can sit back when I get home and smoke a big blunt and watch movies or just cruise around on the internet. Except that I can’t bring my dogs the place is way better. I used to have a job an everything but hated it and decided to see what would happen if I just put a hat on the street. Seems like a stupid thing but life is not much different now than working that shitty job. I just sit and most of the time I’m bored but working that shitty job was just a boring as this is. At least here I get to check out the people, lots of hot girls on this street man.
Guy kneeling: Your telling me, so many hot girls in the plateau. Alright man, I’ve gotta go. I’ll check you later.
The two guys exchanged a handshake and the guy kneeling walked on. My bike was repaired at this point so I carried on, without giving the guy with the hat any money.
I’ve been thinking about this overheard conversation for a while now. I hear a lot of arguments for and against giving 83 cents to a guy on the street. I’m not going to replay all of the moral, religious and political arguments that can come with giving 83 cents. In general, my own giving is pretty random, sometimes I don’t feel like giving, sometimes I know I have change. What is clear for me is the following. First, I generally don’t have the guts to talk to some guy on the street and for the most part would rather just drop money into the hat with the least amount of social interaction possible. Is this a consequence of modernity, the loss of community, the expansion of the city, the fear of the unknown? Whatever explanation you want to give is fine by me. Second, I should not judge the guy on the street. If he can make enough money to have an apartment, internet, dogs and some pot, that is great. Third, regardless of my political, religious or moral ilk in the end I should not feel good or bad about giving. I’m not sponsoring a child for 83 cents a day, I’m randomly giving money to people who are asking for it. Maybe that’s the appeal, I’m not pretending to change the world, I’m just giving away money. Maybe I should just cut holes in my pockets. Who knows what the effect could be if we all did it?
I was walking on busy Mont-Royal street in Montreal last week and, like all major cities in the western world, there was a guy sitting on the street pan-handling for money. I was walking out of a kitchen store, having just bought a hanging fruit basket for my new condo. The guy on street didn’t say anything, didn’t ask for money, he was just sitting there with a dirty hat on the sidewalk full of change. Considering the inanity of my new fruit basket I reached in my pocket and pulled out all of the change I had, 83 cents, and dropped it in the hat. There was not exchange of words, no questions asked, a big city event that happens thousands of times a day.
A few days later I was cycling on the same street and experience some “technical difficulties” with my bike. I stopped on the sidewalk near a grocery store to fix my bike. In front of the exit of the store was another guy, for all I know it was the same guy, sitting with a dirty hat on the sidewalk. However, there was something more noticeable about this scene, there was another guy kneeling beside the guy on the street, chatting. The guy kneeling was clearly not pan handling and was asking the guy with hat question about his life and how life was living on the street, maybe he was a sociology student, who knows. I was happily eavesdropping on the conversation.
Guy kneeling: So long do you usually stay in one place before you move or are forced to move by the store staff?
Guy with hat: That depends. I almost never get kicked off the curb by the stores. I don’t bother people, I’m not one of the crazy people, I just sit on the street with this hat. I almost never even ask for money, I just sit here. If I’m making money I’ll stay all day, just depends how money I’m making really. I usually go home around 9 at night, there are less people after that and the cops get a bit more picky when it gets dark, they don’t want people to be scared.
Guy kneeling: So how much money do you normally make in a day?
Guy with hat: Shit, today like 19 dollars. It’s really slow. I usually have my two big German Sheppards with just sitting on the sidewalk panting like crazy when it is hot. Those are the days I make good money, like 150 bucks or so. I can’t bring the dogs with me as much anymore because I just got a new apartment in Verdun and it’s really far to bring the dogs on the subway and bus and people get pretty mad about that. I need to get one of those seeing eye dog things so I can everywhere.
Guy kneeling: So why did you move out Verdun?
Guy with hat: I used to live here (in the Plateau) but it’s pretty expensive. I was living in this shitty place and didn’t have any TV or anything. My new place I’ve got a computer and internet and I can sit back when I get home and smoke a big blunt and watch movies or just cruise around on the internet. Except that I can’t bring my dogs the place is way better. I used to have a job an everything but hated it and decided to see what would happen if I just put a hat on the street. Seems like a stupid thing but life is not much different now than working that shitty job. I just sit and most of the time I’m bored but working that shitty job was just a boring as this is. At least here I get to check out the people, lots of hot girls on this street man.
Guy kneeling: Your telling me, so many hot girls in the plateau. Alright man, I’ve gotta go. I’ll check you later.
The two guys exchanged a handshake and the guy kneeling walked on. My bike was repaired at this point so I carried on, without giving the guy with the hat any money.
I’ve been thinking about this overheard conversation for a while now. I hear a lot of arguments for and against giving 83 cents to a guy on the street. I’m not going to replay all of the moral, religious and political arguments that can come with giving 83 cents. In general, my own giving is pretty random, sometimes I don’t feel like giving, sometimes I know I have change. What is clear for me is the following. First, I generally don’t have the guts to talk to some guy on the street and for the most part would rather just drop money into the hat with the least amount of social interaction possible. Is this a consequence of modernity, the loss of community, the expansion of the city, the fear of the unknown? Whatever explanation you want to give is fine by me. Second, I should not judge the guy on the street. If he can make enough money to have an apartment, internet, dogs and some pot, that is great. Third, regardless of my political, religious or moral ilk in the end I should not feel good or bad about giving. I’m not sponsoring a child for 83 cents a day, I’m randomly giving money to people who are asking for it. Maybe that’s the appeal, I’m not pretending to change the world, I’m just giving away money. Maybe I should just cut holes in my pockets. Who knows what the effect could be if we all did it?
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