Last year, a Republican Representative introduced a “Choose Life” licence plate bill in North Carolina’s GOP-dominated Legislature. At the time, Democrats tried to amend the bill to include pro-choice plates (for balance), such as “Respect Choice.” Apparently, the only choice conservatives liked was theirs. The amendments were defeated.
All of which reminds me of Ontario PC leader Tim Hudak. If he were to become Premier could “Choose Life” licence plates be coming soon to Ontario?
I post it without comment. But you can!
My dad, Jake, has been gone 41 years today. Being only two when he was killed, I don’t remember him. Not at all. This picture was probably one of the last ones ever taken of the two of us – and I only saw it for the first time this past summer. I love this photo. I love the way he’s looking at me. I love how much I look like him.
I was his only child. Growing up, his death was never talked about and I knew, somehow, not to ask questions. Instead, I would strain to overhear very adult conversations for any mention of him. One day, I found a photograph of a man I didn’t recognize. Being just seven or eight, I thought this man must be my father. I memorized everything about the man in the well-worn Polaroid. I was a teenager when I was told it wasn’t him.
If it sounds complicated, it is. I only learned his birthdate as a young adult. I also learned he loved acting and football and many other things a young man from a deeply religious family shouldn’t. He was a bit of a black sheep but a beloved uncle to my many cousins. He was fun and funny; a giant of a man – quite literally. He wore a leather jacket (that I wish had been saved) with the collar flipped up, as did many men in the sixties, even though I’m quite sure it was frowned upon.
Everything I have of his fits neatly in a box. Over the years a few of my cousins have given me things that belonged to him. Like the silver pocket watch which, I was told, had been tucked into his jeans the night he was killed. The football he threw around and his camera. And a few other trinkets I’m now saving for my kids. This past summer, his sister shared with me stories I had never heard and another aunt passed along pictures I had never seen.
I learned more, too. But that’s a story for another day.
Many decades have passed since he died. My son has his name – as well as his cheekbones, height and rebellious nature. My daughter has his curly hair, which she hates as much as he did. They ask me about him and I wish more than anything I had more to share.
Dad was killed in a horrible accident – the newspaper said black ice was to blame – on a snowy night on the Yellowhead Highway 41 years ago today. He was a trucker and he hadn’t wanted to go on that run. It was a Sunday and he’d been talked into it. Dad had been told they had to hurry to get on the road before the storm hit.
He asked his friends to pray for him. And then he was gone.
Now, back when the federal Liberal party controlled the Senate, if Liberals were doing this, dirty rotten Tories would’ve said they were nothing more than pigs at the trough. But now that the Red Chamber is dominated by Conservatives, I guess it’s all okay.
Oh, and last month it was Brazeau. Whatever happened to Harper’s promise of accountability?
I’m a big J.Crew fan – many people on my Christmas list are very, very lucky – but usually for its clothes, not for any particular corporate policy or decision. Until today.
Congrats Benjamin and Ray! And a huge congrats to J.Crew (I’m going to go do some online shopping damage right now)!