Another Police Certificate on the Way

Pam called Police Headquarters in Connecticut this morning and they confirmed that they had processed and approved a police certificate for her. They said that it was in the mail, but it had been a holiday on Friday on the US (Veteran’s Day) and of course, a holiday here in Canada on Monday (Remembrance Day), so it will probably arrive in our mailbox either today or next week (no mail delivery on Saturdays in Canada).

Two down, one to go!

Remembrance Day Poppies

We were doing some morning grocery shopping at Granville Island. At about 11 o’clock an electric bell rang. For a moment I thought it was a fire alarm. Fortunately, it wasn’t. Instead, there was an announcement over the PA system requesting that we all observe 2 minutes of silence in remembrance of the soldiers who had died in the past World Wars. Then the bell rang again to signal the start. It was a bright morning, a brief break in the rain, and the suns rays came streaming in to the market, while everybody (except for a few fussy children) stayed quiet and still. It was quite an amazing moment, in a place that is nearly always full of activity and a low hubbub of chatter. The bell rang once more, and everything returned to normal. Outside, as we walked home, several squadrons of aircraft flew in formation, in the surprisingly clear late-morning sky (it’s now back to rain as I write this).

The observance of Canadian soldiers who died in the wars has also been in evidence for about a week or two prior to today, when everybody wears the little red fabric poppies on their jacket or coat. I’ve seen television personalities and sports commentators wearing them. You can typically get one by making a donation to one of the veterans with them on street corners. I’ve worn mine for a week or two, but actually have gone through 2 or 3, as they keep falling off, since they’re only held on with a straight pin.

The red poppies come from Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae’s poem, In Flanders Fields. McCrae was born in Guelph, Ontario, and as a surgeon attached to the First Field Artillery Brigade in World War I, he wrote it the day after a friend of his, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer of Ottawa, had been killed by a shell burst on May 2, 1915. Sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the dressing station beside the Canal de l’Yser, just a few hundred yards north of Ypres, McCrae wrote the poem. He described that in the nearby cemetery, he could see the wild poppies that sprang up in the ditches in that part of Europe. He spent about 20 minutes writing these lines in a notebook:

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Cyril Allinson, a young sergeant-major, was delivering mail that day when he saw McCrae writing the poem. McCrae looked up as Allinson approached, then went on writing while the sergeant-major waited. “His face was very tired but calm as he wrote,” Allinson recalled. “He looked around from time to time, his eyes straying to Helmer’s grave.” When McCrae finished, he took his mail from Allinson and, without saying a word, handed his pad to other soldier. Allinson read what McCrae had written, and said later: “The poem was exactly an exact description of the scene in front of us both. He used the word blow in that (first) line because the poppies actually were being blown that morning by a gentle east wind. It never occurred to me at that time that it would ever be published. It seemed to me just an exact description of the scene.”

In fact, it was very nearly not published. Dissatisfied with it, McCrae threw the poem away, but a fellow officer retrieved it and sent it to newspapers in England. The Spectator, in London, rejected it, but Punch published it on December 8, 1915. Now in Canada, it is probably the most memorable war poems ever, and although it is officially a legacy of the battle of Ypres in the spring of 1915, it’s come to symbolize those from the Allied countries whose troops died in World War I. In just thee years in 1918, while still serving in the field hospital, McCrae caught pneumonia and meningitis and died.

A portion of the poem is now printed on the Canadian $10 bill. The reason that Allinson pointed out the word ‘blow’ in the first line is probably because there was a false rumour for a while that the word was a misprint on the money (and should have been the more common ‘grow’). The lines “To you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high” have been adopted as the motto of the Montreal Canadiens hockey team.

Brooms from Baltimore

Brooms from Baltimore
Brooms from BaltimoreBrooms from Baltimore,
originally uploaded by MichaelMoore.com.

Each of my Parents were on two of 300-some photos on Michael Moore’s Flickr collection, posing (as so many other’s did) with a broom on Election Day. It’s nice to know that we all did some sweeping.

I’m really surprised that the Democrats recaptured both the House and the Senate. Joseph Biden suggested that this was a repudiation of Republican domination since 1984 (I wonder what Bill Clinton would think of that?)

At any rate, I’m proud of them, and was glad that the US has started the long road back to sanity.

Enough Whining

I think I’ve gotten most of the ‘Oh woe is me, my Work Permit is due to expire’ out of my system, and despite the dreary weather, there is plenty to be positive about.

Specifically:

  1. It’s Election day today, and hopefully the Democrats will take back some of Congress. It probably won’t be the Senate, but at least the House of Representatives is due to return back to Democratic rule for the first time in… is it 12 years? Whatever it’s been, it’s been a long time. This doesn’t mean that Pam and I will be heading back South again. We’re here, we’re nearly legal, and we’re staying put, visitor status or not.
  2. Yesterday Pam got her Police Certificate from Massachusetts! That’s one down, two to go. Collect all three and you win the jackpot: Permanent Residency (eventually). Hope springs eternal, but let’s hope this doesn’t take place in Spring.
  3. I’ve got plenty of things to get done in the coming months. There’s a bedroom to repaint (never did that room when we moved into our condo). I’m also going to make a concerted effort to clean up my office. (It’s amazing how cluttered it got in 14 months). There is a bunch of stuff I want to sell on Ebay (mostly electronics that are either out-of-date, not needed (like a Satellite Receiver and a Network Hub), or broken, and now I’ll have the time to take care of it. I also need to move ‘The Kendall Group’ web site to British Columbia (and make it a proper web site, with blog and other more current features).
  4. A while back we planned a trip down to see my niece dance in the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s The Nutcracker.
    That’ll be fun, as the family ballerina, along with a bunch of other little girls in tutus, takes to the stage in Seattle in about a month, which calls for a family reunion. Her Aunt and Uncle will be happy to see her operate the canon in the battle between the Nutcracker’s army and the mice.
  5. Macworld Expo is coming up in San Francisco in January, and again, that’s been planned and reservations have been made far in advance. Since I missed what some have dubbed ‘Woodstock for Smart People’ last year, I’m looking forward to renewing my almost annual pilgrimage in 2007. I’ve got a lot of old friends to reconnect up with.

That’s a few so far. There’ll be more. Noone ever said that I was a Pollyanna, but I’m sure there are a few silver linings in all of these clouds (real or situational).

Update: I’ve since learned that my niece will not be pulling or shooting a canon of any kind, but she will be holding a gun (a rifle, I believe). She made it clear that it’s a prop, but given the US’s love firearms, I hope she keeps whatever looks like a safety on. You’d think with a ballet like The Nutcracker that the artillery would be kept to a minimum.

Wet Ground, Losing Ground

As the November rains have started, so also has a shower of gloom come upon us. Without going into a lot of detail, it seems that our failure to get Landed Immigrant Status has had a domino effect on our situation; These days, new workers in Canada usually have Permanent Residency (Landed Immigrant status) by the time their first year’s Work Permit is up for renewal. That obviously wasn’t the case for us.

Because our problems with Pam’s fingerprints, I’m now having to do the unusual step of trying to get a renewal of a work permit. We thought this would be a simple rubber stamp on a form at the border or some other office, but at this point, it does not look either simple, or even likely, in that it involves lots of more paperwork, and some other details involving my employer that I’ll leave out for the moment.

At this point, there’s a strong probability that a month from today we’ll both be out of the workforce, back where we began again. Pam is even in the midst of a contract, and will be forced out of it, and this pains her a great deal. While a brand new Work Permit (for Pam, this time) will solve most of our problems for the time being, that will also require processing (about 55 days, our Lawyer reports, and we haven’t even submitted that yet), so there will be an inevitable gap before we can work again. In addition to waiting for this new work permit, we are also waiting for the fingerprints (still barely readable) that we sent to California and Connecticut to be accepted and for them to send us Police Certificates, along with Massachusetts, who for some reason didn’t need fingerprints.

It’s a hell of a way to enter into the Holiday Season, but it’s as if those unreadable prints have thrown us right back to the starting line. That’s not entirely accurate, but it sure feels that way.

I don’t think that words can express our level of frustration and disappointment.