Yes. Two. In six days.
Nadine Parker was killed in a car crash with her husband, who, according to police, intentionally drove them into a cement bridge support. She died instantly. He died later. They leave behind three children, 10, six, and three.
Ashley Carmichael was intentionally hit by a car twice. She died. She was 15. Her brother (18) was also hit, but he survived with minor injuries.
I reported for three full days. Talking to several people about the victims, the suspects, the scene, the family, and everything else. Sure, it was hard, but I had a job to do.
When I got home on each of the three nights, I found it difficult to sleep. I thought of Nadine, her husband Norm, the three kids. Eve just had her third birthday. I wonder if she'll remember her mom.
I thought of Ashley, or Meagen as most called her, and of her mother and brother who must be hurting immensely. I saw him over and over again, limping down the hallway toward me.
I had to sit down when these stories were done, and talk to my editors about the experience. I told them it was hard, but I loved doing it. The fact is, there was an important story to tell, and I wanted to help tell it.
A while ago, I was interviewing someone for a story, his organization was doing something new, and he asked me what I thought about it. I said I had no opinion on the matter as I was waiting to hear more and remaining objective while I reported the story. He said, " I'm asking you as a human being." As if a reporter and a human being are two different species.
I'm sure many people think that a journalist is some sub-species of uncaring, stone hearted mammal.
A reporter has a hard job to do, and they must do it. They must go to the houses, the schools, the workplaces of the people who have been killed, and ask those families and friends to stop crying long enough to answer their questions.
Everyone I talk to says the same thing about reporting and journalists, that humanity is a great asset.
"These are their stories" said Jim Poling.
"It is only because of our humanity that we have any right to tell anyone's story" said Jody Sanderson.
It's hard to think about how many people are saddened - crushed, by
these tragedies. But some solace can be found in the truth- the stories we tell.
I asked a friend if compassion could ever be objective. We couldn't decide.
I'm being heavy, sure. Maybe one day I'll ruin dinner parties like Sally Armstrong.
Here's where I get mushy.
I'm so proud to be a journalist, and I'm surrounded by the same sentiment. Every story I write changes the way I see things. It should. That's the job. To know the world in which I live can only be accomplished by knowing the people that live here with me.
Cheers.
Errrka
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Red and White and read all over
The conservatives are trying to change the rules about lowering the flag on the peace tower. Instead of lowering it every time a Canadian soldier dies in Afghanistan, they would like to save that tribute for November 11, Rememberance Day only. The Liberals want to pass non-mandatory legislation saying the flag should be raised every time a Canadian soldier dies in Afghanistan.
Conservatives say - Canada can’t look like a proud nation if they spend all the time in mourning. Liberals say - we should honour the dead now.
Naturally, people are outraged. Opinions fly like feathers in a pillow fight. No regard for where they land or who they poke in the eye. “Pull the troops out!” “Don’t break tradition!” Slander, outrage, irrationality. There’s no end to the reactions.
It’s a tough call. I understand not lowering and raising the flag everytime someone dies. I don’t argue that point. Instead, I think it should be kept at half mast. If not that one, then the rest of the flags at parliament. It’s not about Nation pride. We can be proud of our nation and the peacemaking efforts we are making in Afghanistan. However, we cannot forget that peacemaking is very much an active fighting effort. Canada is involved in a war. Why does it seem like people forget that?
On November 11, Canadians take a moment to remember the soldiers who have died representing our country. It’s to remember the wars, to remember the fatalities, and, most of all, to remember the people - the sons, husbands, fathers, friends.
I think that’s something that should be done everyday when we are at war. I’m sure the soldiers don’t forget it like we can.
Sure, there are pretty little ribbons, and car magnets saying “support our troops” and those are always closely followed by the “make love not war” t-shirts, and the more racey “bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity.” Ignorance is bliss.
Here it’s stickers vs buttons, and camo vs pink. There it’s bullets, bombs, automatic weapons, armoured vehicles, and unpredictable extremists.
You tell the women of Afghanistan, who weren’t allowed to wear white socks because they were seen as sexually permiscuous, that bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity.
They’ll tell you that, for the first time in years, they are allowed to go to the market without a male escort.
They’ll tell you that, for the first time in years, they can wear nail polish without getiing their fingers chopped off by machetes.
They will tell you they are not worried about getting kidnapped and shipped to a rape camp where they would be gang-raped many times a day next to children as young as eight.
They’ll tell you that the people who oppressed them, abused them, manipulated them would never have stopped unless they were forced by weapons and forces larger than their own.
They will tell you that peace is being made.
Make love not war, you say? Before this, they weren’t allowed to love, and nobody loved them.
The rape camps need to be demolished, blown to pieces, bombed for peace.
Making peace looks like ugly business, but there’s no keeping it until it is made. There’s no making it unless its enemies are destroyed.
Imagine a Canadian pilot in Afghanistan responsible for dropping a bomb or two in his fighting career. He is a soldier; that fact identifies him. He’s bombing for peace. Go tell him it’s the same as fucking for virginity. Watch the disappoinment settle in his tortured eyes. The months spent on cots or the ground, eating army rations, being far away from his family, missing the greatest moments in his young boy’s life, all of it, you would like to tell him, was ridiculous, useless, and even criminal. He did it for you, for local families, for his son, for his wife, for your family - go ahead, crush him. Prick him with your political button. Your propaganda. Surely that’s good for 10 points in the sticker battle game. His is no game.
It goes beyond a flag at half mast. It goes into every home in Canada. Every water cooler conversation.
Don’t forget that Canada is fighting in a war. No, don’t walk around without a smile, don’t cry while you send the day’s e-mails - tears are no good for the troops- only remember that Canada’s sons and daughters are there, risking their lives to give others a chance to live.
The least we can do is put away our silly stickers and realize how good we have it, how much they give, and that what we say means something to them.
Put away your hippy dogma and realize your support is important for the fighters. Save the protests for a rainy, war-free day in Canada. Or for the important things, like bloodied monks and genocides - those are things we should care about, things we should try to change, differences we should make.
The little patriot’s flag flying in the hearts of Canadians is never flown higher or with more pride, than when it is at half mast in honour of the courage of our countrymen/ women, and the bravery of Canadians.
Conservatives say - Canada can’t look like a proud nation if they spend all the time in mourning. Liberals say - we should honour the dead now.
Naturally, people are outraged. Opinions fly like feathers in a pillow fight. No regard for where they land or who they poke in the eye. “Pull the troops out!” “Don’t break tradition!” Slander, outrage, irrationality. There’s no end to the reactions.
It’s a tough call. I understand not lowering and raising the flag everytime someone dies. I don’t argue that point. Instead, I think it should be kept at half mast. If not that one, then the rest of the flags at parliament. It’s not about Nation pride. We can be proud of our nation and the peacemaking efforts we are making in Afghanistan. However, we cannot forget that peacemaking is very much an active fighting effort. Canada is involved in a war. Why does it seem like people forget that?
On November 11, Canadians take a moment to remember the soldiers who have died representing our country. It’s to remember the wars, to remember the fatalities, and, most of all, to remember the people - the sons, husbands, fathers, friends.
I think that’s something that should be done everyday when we are at war. I’m sure the soldiers don’t forget it like we can.
Sure, there are pretty little ribbons, and car magnets saying “support our troops” and those are always closely followed by the “make love not war” t-shirts, and the more racey “bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity.” Ignorance is bliss.
Here it’s stickers vs buttons, and camo vs pink. There it’s bullets, bombs, automatic weapons, armoured vehicles, and unpredictable extremists.
You tell the women of Afghanistan, who weren’t allowed to wear white socks because they were seen as sexually permiscuous, that bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity.
They’ll tell you that, for the first time in years, they are allowed to go to the market without a male escort.
They’ll tell you that, for the first time in years, they can wear nail polish without getiing their fingers chopped off by machetes.
They will tell you they are not worried about getting kidnapped and shipped to a rape camp where they would be gang-raped many times a day next to children as young as eight.
They’ll tell you that the people who oppressed them, abused them, manipulated them would never have stopped unless they were forced by weapons and forces larger than their own.
They will tell you that peace is being made.
Make love not war, you say? Before this, they weren’t allowed to love, and nobody loved them.
The rape camps need to be demolished, blown to pieces, bombed for peace.
Making peace looks like ugly business, but there’s no keeping it until it is made. There’s no making it unless its enemies are destroyed.
Imagine a Canadian pilot in Afghanistan responsible for dropping a bomb or two in his fighting career. He is a soldier; that fact identifies him. He’s bombing for peace. Go tell him it’s the same as fucking for virginity. Watch the disappoinment settle in his tortured eyes. The months spent on cots or the ground, eating army rations, being far away from his family, missing the greatest moments in his young boy’s life, all of it, you would like to tell him, was ridiculous, useless, and even criminal. He did it for you, for local families, for his son, for his wife, for your family - go ahead, crush him. Prick him with your political button. Your propaganda. Surely that’s good for 10 points in the sticker battle game. His is no game.
It goes beyond a flag at half mast. It goes into every home in Canada. Every water cooler conversation.
Don’t forget that Canada is fighting in a war. No, don’t walk around without a smile, don’t cry while you send the day’s e-mails - tears are no good for the troops- only remember that Canada’s sons and daughters are there, risking their lives to give others a chance to live.
The least we can do is put away our silly stickers and realize how good we have it, how much they give, and that what we say means something to them.
Put away your hippy dogma and realize your support is important for the fighters. Save the protests for a rainy, war-free day in Canada. Or for the important things, like bloodied monks and genocides - those are things we should care about, things we should try to change, differences we should make.
The little patriot’s flag flying in the hearts of Canadians is never flown higher or with more pride, than when it is at half mast in honour of the courage of our countrymen/ women, and the bravery of Canadians.
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