Monday, 3 September 2018

Unhinged, by Manigault Newman Omarosa

Recently, a friend of mine handed me a book and suggested I might read it. I don't know whether I took him aback or not, but I confessed that I had never heard of the author. Clearly, the author, herself, assumed that I knew I great deal about her and, indeed, that everybody should.

I also confess that I may have resented being asked to spend time exploring the chaos going on inside the United States White House. I prefer to wait until the historians sort it all out.

I found the author's discussion of her own life, however, to be very intriguing. She was born into a tenement in Youngstown, Ohio, a rusting old steel town, which had seen better days. When she was three years old, while spending time with an aunt, the home caught fire and her cousin was burned to death. When she was seven, her father was murdered. When she was a teenager, her gangster brother was the subject of drive-by shootings wherein everybody else in the house was dodging bullets. She decided it was a good idea to get out of there. [Incidentally, her brother was, also, eventually murdered.]

"Getting out of there." nvolved becoming Miss USA [a pageant owned by Donald Trump] and going to prestigious Howard University.. Somehow, that took her to the White House where she worked for Pres. Bill Clinton. If it is that easy to get away from a poverty-stricken neighbourhood, it is amazing that other people don't do it.. Clearly, Omarosa, as she brands herself, possessed a great deal of determination and ability to make it to the top.

After working for the Clintons, she apparently became a national figure through her appearances on the television production of The Apprentice. I guess that is where I should have been more in touch with pop-culture so that I could have grasped her fame. My ignorance reminds me off the moment when I had been told that Princess Diana had died. My first response, of which I am now ashamed, was "so what".

Following her stint on the very popular TV show, which show made Donald Trump famous as somebody that was good at publicly firing people without showing any compassion, she trained to become a pastor. That seems extremely odd. We are never given any explanation as to why.

She doesn't seem to have done any serious pastoring. Rather, she went to work on Hillary Clinton's election campaign in 2015. The problem is that, after all this dedication, she was not offered an important position on Hillary's campaign team. Donald Trump, on the other hand, was anxious to have her, especially since she was a woman and had black skin.(We all know that skin colour is very important in American politics.)

The rest is history. She went to work in the White House and then, displeasing Trump, was fired. Of course, that meant that she should now write a book.

I am not sure what the moral of all this is, except to say that she seems to be a rather intriguing person



Wednesday, 29 August 2018

The octogenarian returns

I got a notice from somewhere that it will, as of tomorrow, be a full year since I wrote anything on my blog. I think I got a little bit of writers block after trying to turn myself into a journalist and finding, after publication, that I got a few facts wrong. I will try to amend that from here on in and speak to you about whatever is on my mind.

I am now eighty-one years old. The last year has been very eventful for me. I have been in very good health and, as a result, have enjoyed a great deal of good leisure time visiting with friends and family and reading. I have read a lot of really good books. Two that stand out, this summer, are "Thank You for Being Late" by Thomas L Friedman and "Growing Pains – The Future of Democracy [and Work] by Gwynne Dyer. Neither book is very well titled but, between them, they have helped me come to grips with so much of what is happening so quickly in the world today. We need to understand the rapid growth of scientific knowledge, particularly in in the field of engineering and the fact that politics and administration are hopelessly behind. Perhaps, someday, I will go into these issues in some depth.

In the meantime, let me tell you that I'm spending a lot of my time trying to stay healthy by going to the very invigorating McWheelers gym at McMaster University and a very therapeutic pool at St. Joseph's Villa.

Now that I've gotten this far, I hope I'm back in the habit and, while I haven't said very much today, you will indulge me that fact and let me get back on track.

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

Why Do Nations Mistreat Their Own Citizens?

I live in a retirement residence with about 100 other people.  One of them is Joyce Hirasawa.  Joyce was born August 19, 1925 in Burnaby British Columbia.  She was the youngest of four children.  Her mother died when she was quite young and her father remarried and had four more children, only to be widowed again.  Fred, as her father was known, worked in a sawmill.  He built his own home and the family planted their own vegetables.  They were solid citizens

In the summer of 1942 Joyce was fifteen and about to turn sixteen.  She was a typical happy-go-lucky Canadian high school student.  One day the RCMP came knocking at the door.  They entered the house and went through all the cupboards.  They confiscated the family radio and took Joyce's Brownie camera.  Some of us, who are over seventy, remember Brownie cameras.

That's not all. Fred was sent to a work camp leaving what, by this time, were six children without a parent . Joyce and her older sister were sent, along with the four younger children, to live in tents in Hastings Park.  In September they were moved to a community called New Denver in the interior of British Columbia.

Eventually, Fred convinced the authorities that he was a carpenter and, because carpenters were needed in the New Denver community, he was allowed to return home.  During the fall the family continue to live in tents.  Eventually, a shack was built for them.  They could she see through the cracks in the wood in their shack that very cold winter.

The following spring the whole family was moved to a place called Picture Butt, Alberta.  They were placed on a sugarbeet farm which was owned and operated by German speaking immigrants.  (The irony of the situation didn't seem to have occurred to Joyce when she was telling me the story.)  They worked this farm until Joyce was twenty-two years old, 1949.  Then the family was allowed to move into Tabor into the home of another German-speaking family.  Joyce was permitted to travel to Calgary to take a dressmaking course but, even then, she needed regular clearance from the RCMP in order to board trains between Calgary and Tabor.

Eventually, Joyce met and married George, a Japanese Canadian from Tabor and they had six children.  Joyce proudly showed me a picture taken on their fiftieth wedding anniversary in 2005, showing all six children, their spouses and eleven grandchildren.  George's profession was that of a chicken sexer.  A chicken sexer is a person who looks at chicks when they come out of the egg and divides the hens from the roosters.  I am told the family moved to Hamilton because Hamilton was in need of a chicken sexer.

It is extremely difficult to imagine the rampant and thoughtless racism that existed in North America and in Japan in 1941 and 1942.  There is evidence that the Japanese were building an industrial complex in the late 30s, including activities such as confiscating car plants from the "big three" American car companies and handing them to Toyota, in anticipation of a war.  There is also much evidence that a war was about to begin. The polls in the United States showed that the population of that country was quite expecting it to be  immersed into World War II even before the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Nevertheless, governments on both sides seem to have encouraged racial hatred.  Within hours of the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, President Roosevelt had convinced Congress to declare war.  Within a few days, the Canadian government had placed into effect racist programs with the intent of destroying the Japanese community on Canada's west coast and proceded to confiscate the property of Japanese Canadians.  The Japanese attacked Hong Kong and by Christmas Day had almost 2000 Canadian troops captured as prisoners of war.  These prisoners were treated in a most inhumane manner. Many were murdered and many had to spend the rest of the war in virtual slavery.

I still find it hard to comprehend that decisions were made on both sides in a manner that involved such a gross violation of  the human rights of Canadian citizens.  Apparently, there is no evidence whatsoever that any Canadian citizen of Japanese ancestry expressed any treasonous opinions or showed any inclination to support Japan in the war.  Briefing notes from the military and from the police as well as public expressions of opinion by the leaders of both the military and the RCMP cautioned against taking any steps of a racist nature. They also cautioned against encouraging the inflammation of anti-Japanese feelings by political leadership.  What racist feelings that did exist were expressed on Vancouver Island, not on the mainland, even although practically all Japanese Canadians lived on the mainland.

Cabinet documents and other speeches and writings that have been subsequently unearthed seem to show that one person, Ian Alister Mackenzie, a partisan Liberal strategist and the sole member of the Cabinet from British Columbia, convinced the whole Cabinet to embark on a program of moving all people of Japanese ancestry out of British Columbia.  All their property was seized and sold to "white" Canadians. Similar programs took place in the United States, but that country was much more careful in preserving the property of their citizens and permitted them to return to the West Coast even before the conclusion of the war in 1945.  As Joyce's story shows, Canada continued to torment its innocent citizens right up until 1949.

In 1988, after the Americans set the example by offering an apology and some structured compensationto their citizens, then Prime Minister Brian Mulroney offered an apology and some structured compensation, in a lesser amount of money than the Americans had been given, to Japanese Canadians.

I am trying to grasp why people express hatred toward other ethnic or religious groups.  In so doing, I reach back into my own memory.  In the summer of 1945 I was seven years old and my brother, Mac, was fifteen. The "War in Europe" had ended and our national attention was being turned, really for the first time, to the war against Japan.  We owed it to the Americans, who had done so much for us in Europe, to help them .Young men were being encouraged to join up and relieve pressure on the tired troops who were about to be brought back from Europe and sent on to the Orient.  Mac felt a duty to join up as soon as he reached his sixteenth birthday which would have been August 8th.  You can imagine the relief in our family when we were told on August 6th that an atom bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima, creating a distinct possibility that the war was about to end.

Mac passed away some years ago but, in a conversation we had shortly before he died, he expressed to me the huge fear he had had about having to go to a foreign country and fight people who seemed to be aliens to him.  He had never seen a Japanese person when he was fifteen years old.  All he knew was what he read in war oriented comic books where "Japs" were painted as evil monsters.

21,000 people were ordered out of British Columbia, with all of their property seized.  Regulations remained in place until 1949.  That generation couldn't speak for themselves but an apology eventually occurred in 1988, when the next generation pointed out the injustices which had occurred.  Let us as a people make certain that nothing like this ever happens again.

The good news is that Joyce has recovered and has a good life, as is evidnced by her her living happily in this retirment residence.

Saturday, 29 July 2017

Dunkirk

Until today, the last movie I saw in a theatre was Moonlight.  I saw Moonlight before it won an Academy award and became well-known as a great movie.  Moonlight may have been the fourth or fifth film I have seen in the last five years.

I say all this because I choose movies carefully.  Thus, I implore you to listen to my lauding of a film that I saw today.  That movie is Dunkirk.

I suppose you could call Dunkirk at historical reenactment.  Of course, it reenacts the evacuation of British troops from the coast of France during World War II.  It is precisely that.  We are shown, up close, the trauma and fear experienced by the troops. We are shown the daring of the sailors of the small ships and the determination of frightened men to stay alive and to keep their colleagues alive.

There is very little dialogue. There is very little politics.  There is a lot of blood and guts.  There are a lot of heroics and some failed attempts at heroics.  This movie will make you perspire and begin to understand what was done at that time by those troops to preserve liberty.

Monday, 24 July 2017

Experimenting

I am experimenting as to how to write a blog, and when I have it written, put it on Facebook.  Some of what I write I may not put on Facebook but rather will just keep in the original blog.  However, my niece Elspeth tells me that if I want to get it out in the world I've got a place it in front of the 475 Facebook friends, and they are all very very close friends, and they will pick it up and run with it.

I'm experimenting using my voice in Dragon.  This works extremely well.  When I show this to my friends they are ecstatic.

Some people may not know that my voice is being translated directly into printed text in this blog.

Now I'm going to try and publish this and then move it over to Facebook.

Friday, 21 July 2017

My first blog

I start this comment without having any particular thoughts in mind.  I have with me today my children from Ottawa and my three grandchildren.

This is a test of the blog. This may not look very interesting but I hope you will find over the course of time that I have some very interesting things to say.

Two weeks from today I will become an octogenarian. Most people who entered their eighth decade do not come out alive.  I do not know whether I will or not, that is up to the entity that I feel I know, my God.

I do feel, however, that there is a great deal I need to say before that happens.  What's going to happen in this blog is that I will enter upon a number of topics and express my views or perhaps just talk about where I've been in this world and these topics.

My wife used to have a blog and she would always conclude her commentaries by saying that she was going to see us all again on the Road to Santiago" I do not have such a closing but I am saying so long for now.