Little Help

Fledgling robin waiting to be fed, my back yard.

I've had better weeks: ones that left me feeling better than I feel right now. Weeks where no one famous who was almost exactly my age died.* Where no former boss or colleague died.** And where no sloganeering neophyte of undetectable talent and unclear intentions became the Premier-designate of the province.

These were all unfortunate; the last being possibly the most impactful. 

Bruce and I talked about our new circumstances as we walked together on Friday morning, me on my way to work, Bruce on his way to the bus station to go visit his dad. 

Bruce, trying to be positive, said that we had survived the tenures of other conservative ideologues like Brian Mulroney, Mike Harris and Stephen Harper, so we could likely weather the next four to eight years. 

He is right that we are better situated than many others, but, I said to Bruce, who retires at the end of this month, "When all those other guys were in power, we were less vulnerable than we are now. Our income was steady or growing; we were younger ..."

Then we agreed - and I spent the whole day Friday saying to my staff - "we'll just have to see what happens." 

The Liberals' good intentions didn't keep them from being ineffectual, so there's hope. 

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen 

* Anthony Bourdain.

** My former boss, Rob Fleming, died suddenly from an aneurysm on Wednesday morning. He'd retired last October. And I learned on Friday of the death of Christopher Wilson. I'd known Christopher, a Canadian-born American citizen who worked for the Lung Association, from my air quality work over the past decade.

March 2017. That's Christopher, the guy with the grey beard and impressive head of hair, gazing off into the distance in Ottawa, the night before a multi-stakeholder working group agreed on a proposal for a new standard for sulphur dioxide emissions in Canada.