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Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Just an old silver star...


It's just an old silver star, one point is broken and it has a couple of nasty holes from pins used to attach it to the top of the Christmas tree in years past.

It was a Christmas gift to me from a woman who worked at the Bartlet, MacDonald and Gow Department Store in Windsor, Ontario. I was only months old when she gave it to me and it would be years before I appreciated it.


But when I was old enough to notice the handmade silver star, I was quite taken with it. It was so well made. Very nicely crafted with no top, no bottom, and finished on both sides, it had no front or back.

Holding it in my hands was like holding the answer to a riddle: What is silver, has no front and no back but five tops? The Christmas star. When you're four it's an entertaining riddle.


Today Bartlet, MacDonald and Gow is gone. I believe one owner took his own life. My mother related the incident with far more detail but I was young and really didn't want to listen. The details are gone.

I no longer know the name of the woman who made the star and gave it to the little child of a man with whom she worked. Bartlet, MacDonald and Gow closed and the staff dispersed.

My mother, of course, would recall the lady's name if my mother were alive, but she isn't. My father passed on decades ago.

But, the life of the little star goes on. It sits at the top of my Christmas tree, an elastic band holding it tightly to an angel bought by my wife. It doesn't mind sharing the glory. In fact, it lets the angel take centre stage while it plays back-up.

Someday I'll fade away like the Bartlet, MacDonald and Gow owner but I hope without the dramatic flourish; I'll fade away more in the manner of my father, of my mother, and of the lady who made the little silver star.

But I'm going to show Fiona the little star. I'm going to show her how it spins and how it reflects the Christmas tree lights that now adorn our tree; Our tree because it is not just mine but it is also Fiona's and the family's.

Maybe the little star will create memories for Fiona, maybe she will breathe new life into Christmas memories so familiar to me and maybe, just maybe, my little Christmas star will sparkle brightly for years to come, and refuse to fade away.

Drugs demand respect: Including Tylenol

Sun Media's Mindelle Jacobs recently ended a column on the dangers of OxyContin saying, "A drug like OxyContin is markedly different than a drug like Tylenol 3." She also said in reference to OxyContin, ". . . people are unfortunately naive about the potential risks of such drugs." She could have as easily been referring to Tylenol 3.

Yesterday McNeil Consumer Healthcare, a Johnson & Johnson company, announced it is lowering recommended maximum daily dose for Extra Strength Tylenol to reduce the risk of acetaminophen overdose. Other Tylenol products, such as Tylenol 3, will follow in 2012 with lowered recommended maximum daily doses.

Why the fuss? It has been reported that acetaminophen causes three times as many cases of acute liver failure (ALF) as all other drugs combined. It is the most common cause of acute liver failure in the United States, accounting for 39% of cases.

Most Tylenol overdosing cases are unintentional. People take multiple medications not realizing how many contain acetaminophen. (The active ingredient in Tylenol.) This accidental overdosing results in approximately 150 deaths annually in the U.S.

Here's a detailed list of some of the most commonly used drugs containing acetaminophen. Mix these drugs at your peril.



  • Actifed: Cold & Allergy, Sinus
  • Alka-Seltzer Plus: All Products
  • Anacin: Aspirin Free Formula
  • Benadryl: Allergy Sinus Headache; Severe Allergy & Sinus Headache
  • Comtrex: All Products
  • Contac: Severe Cold and Flu Maximum Strength Caplets, Non-Drowsy Caplets, Day & Night Cold & Flu
  • Coricidin: D Cold, Flu & Sinus Tablets, HBP Cold & Flu Tablets
  • Dimetapp: Non-Drowsy Flu Syrup
  • Dristan: Cold Multi-Symptom Formula
  • Drixoral: Allergy Sinus, Cold & Flu Excedrin®: All Products
  • Feverall: Suppositories
  • Goody’s Powders: All Products
  • Midol: Maximum Strength Menstrual Formula, Maximum Strength PMS Formula
  • NyQuil/DayQuil: Cold/Flu Relief Liquid and LiquiCaps
  • Pamprin: All Products
  • Percogesic: All Products
  • Robitussin: Cold, Multi-Symptom Cold & Flu, Multi-Symptom Honey Flu Liquid, Nighttime Honey Flu Liquid
  • Singlet: Tablets
  • Sinutab Sinus: Sinus Allergy Medication Maximum Strength Formula
  • Sudafed: Cold & Cough Liquid Caps, Cold & Sinus Liquid Caps, Severe Cold Caplets and Tablets, Sinus Caplets and Tablets
  • Tavist: Sinus Non-Drowsy Coated Caplets
  • TheraFlu: All Regular and Maximum Strength Caplets and Hot Liquid
  • Triaminic: Cold, Cough & Fever Liquid, Cough & Sore Throat Liquid, Cough & Sore Throat Softchews
  • Tylenol: Allergy Sinus Formula, Severe Allergy; Arthritis Pain Extended Relief; Cold Formula, Cold & Flu; Extra Strength Pain Reliever; Flu Formula; Maximum Strength Sore Throat Adult Liquid; PM Pain Reliever/Sleep Aid; Regular Strength; Sinus; Women’s Tylenol
  • Vanquish: Caplets
  • Vicks: Vicks 44M Cough, Cold & Flu Relief Liquid and Liquicap
  • Acetaminophen is the most commonly implicated drug in cases of acute liver failure (ALF), predominantly due to its widespread availability.

    This may all come as a surprise but acetaminophen is not the only painkiller with serious side effects. According to the Canadian Medical Society Journal, sixteen thousand deaths a year in the United States and 1900 a year in Canada may be caused by non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) inducing gastric perforations, obstructions and bleeds.

    Dr. Ike Iheanacho, editor of the Drug and Therapeutics Bulletin, says: "The latest evidence shows . . . for every 3,300 people you treated for a year (with daily aspirin), you’d get one extra incident of gastrointestinal bleeding, which can be fatal."

    According to Johns Hopkins: ". . . a narcotic pain reliever such as morphine, oxycodone, hydrocodone, or fentanyl . . . does not pose the health risks you face with NSAIDS (aspirin, Celebrex, ibuprofen) . . . studies show that (narcotic) abuse is rare among patients with chronic pain, and with newer, long-acting opioids that release controlled amounts of medication . . ."

    Why are people not more knowledgeable? One reason may be that reporters are not all that knowledgeable. When it comes to drugs, reporters seem to deal more in fear than fact.

    Increases in deaths from opioid drugs such as OxyContin may be linked to the volume of coverage such deaths receive in the news. According to a study from Children's Hospital Boston and the University of North Carolina (UNC), Chapel Hill.

    The study, "Breaking the News or Fueling the Epidemic? Temporal association between news media report volume and opioid-related mortality," found that spikes in media coverage often preceded an increase in deaths, suggesting that media coverage — even when negative — may have influenced opioid abuse.

    This is the first time research has assessed the relationship between opioid abuse and the national news, according to senior investigator John Brownstein, Ph.D., of the Children's Hospital Informatics Program (CHIP) and Children's Division of Emergency Medicine. Although anecdotal information about a link between news reports and drug use date back to the 1950s, when amphetamine abuse was a common news topic.
    The authors suggest that stories about drugs follow guidelines similar to what psychiatrists and professional journalism organizations recommend for stories about suicides; under those guidelines, specific details are withheld so as not to inspire copycat suicides.
    "Specifics on how one might get high and how it feels are probably things that should be mentioned with caution or even left out of the news," Brownstein adds. "This is setting the stage for research around responsibility in the news."
    A London Free Press / Sun Media Special Report informed readers what medications "contains higher levels of oxycodone" and went on to tell readers what they can do to bypass the time release mechanism built into the pills to force the immediate release of oxycodone.

    What the paper didn't tell its readers was:

    "What makes these (deaths from opiods) even more tragic is that overdoses involving opioids (drugs like heroin, morphine, Oxycontin, Vicodin) are usually slow killers. Victims can be revived without lasting effects if the antidote — a drug called naloxone (brand: Narcan) — is given early enough."

    —  source: Maia Szalavitz writing in the Huffington Post:

    When I worked at a newspaper, I used to argue the dangers of "shotgun drugstore remedies" should be addressed in the paper. I got nowhere. Today I feel slightly vindicated.

    Tuesday, December 8, 2009

    Is Green Public Transit a Myth?

    I wrote the following post defending my Morgan ownership some months ago. Today the National Post had a story on rethinking green transportation and what the Post essentially called the clean public transit myth.

    This could not be right I thought, and I googled the facts in their story; So far I have found that there is a lot of support for their attack on public transit.

    I also discovered that their reporter, Kevin Libin, may not have developed the story on his own. I found lots of sources confirming Libin's position, but these sources are old and one would think Libin should have been aware of them. This may be a case of the MSM ripping off the blogging community.

    Here is a post from the blog Brad Ideas and here is a link to the National Post article. What do you think? (I have already received comments and some excellent criticisms.)

    My original defence of my Morgan.

    It’s not cool to defend cars. They are nothing but polluting, carbon-belching, resource-consuming pigs. For getting to the store, you’re better off walking – it’s better for your health and the health of the world – or so we are told. For getting to Toronto, rapid transit is the answer and not the car.

    I found all the above very easy to write as I kinda believe it. The other day I walked home from Westmount Mall swinging my purchase at my side. I like walking but, and it is a big but, I also like driving.

    There, I’ve said it. I like driving, and not just any old car – nope – one particular old car. My soon to be 41-year-old Morgan roadster. She’s a feisty one, so I wouldn’t call her an ‘old girl’ and I certainly would never call her a pig. Never. If she overheard such remarks, she might get her proper English knickers all in a knot.

    But she is a cheap date. She is easy on the pocket and relatively easy on the planet. Think about it. For more than four decades this car, this hunk of steel on wheels, has been taking me from A to B and delivering great pleasure while doing so.

    She is willing to go almost anywhere if asked. She spent a Christmas in Kapuskasing braving winter in the Arctic watershed. She took my wife and me to San Francisco in 2005. She took my mother grocery shopping in the '60s and she takes me shopping in St. Jacobs today. There is one place she won’t go, and I won’t take her, and that’s the auto wrecker’s.

    I confess, I have sent quite a number of cars to wrecker’s. I even drove one right to the devil’s door and got nothing more in return than spare change. But, these were not Morgans.

    Morgans are special and in ways that may not be immediately evident. Please bear with me as I explain. Morgans are simply made. A steel, ladder frame onto which a strong, wooden frame is mounted. The steel body sections are attached to the wooden frame. They are hand-built.

    I know what you’re thinking: “Wood? This car has a wooden frame?” To which I reply, “Yes, and much of the wood in my car is original.” Wood is a fine building material and has been in use in canoes, planes and homes for years. When it does deteriorate, it is easily replaced.

    The steel in my car is solid and tough and long lasting – as it is in most cars. Eventually, steel rusts. But steel, if you are skilled, can be repaired – fully restored to original condition. My car has been restored. The rusty, diseased metal was removed and new, fresh metal welded into place.

    My power steering has never required repair but then my power steering is an oversized Brooklands Bluemel steering wheel. The large diameter wheel uses the power of leverage – mechanical advantage – and leverage carries a lifetime guarantee. The steering wheel itself is another matter. After 41 years it needs some attention.

    I like to say that if you added up all the stuff my car doesn’t have, you’d almost have another car. Power windows, no. It doesn’t even have window cranks. Why? I have side curtains.

    Power brakes, no. With a car that doesn’t weigh a ton or a tonne, take your pick, my disk and drum combination works just fine. Power door locks, no, and when used in the winter the exterior door handles never freeze. Why not? You guessed it; I don’t have them.

    This summer the Morgan Motor Company is celebrating its 100th anniversary. Yes, they are still making Morgans and they are available in many parts of the world. A tangle of bureaucratic rules keeps them from being imported into Canada and has kept new ones from entering the country for decades.

    Being a centenarian doesn’t mean the Morgan folk are not forward looking. They have a fine web site. And they have a new, experimental hydrogen model. Zero emissions model. Cars in the future will pollute even less than my little four-cylinder gas sipper.

    Tomorrow’s cars will be close to 100% recyclable. BMW has already publicly stated this as one of their goals. According to an article in the Independent: “Once proper disposal of vehicles becomes legally enforced, financial advantages will be drawn by owners of cars whose producers have invested most in maximising the number of re- useable parts, and in designing cars that are easy to take apart.” BMW plans to be competitive.

    In the future, if BMW is correct, cars will encourage the repair and reuse of parts just like my old Morgan does today. Such reuse and repair will create employment for skilled, knowledgeable people. Good folk will get good jobs. The fellows that keep my Morgan on the road are like family to me.

    I have logged more than a hundred thousand miles in my Morgan. Being small hasn’t stopped it from being useful. Think Smart Car. It may not be able to carry a family of six but that was never its intention. (I saw my first Smart Car in Nice in the south of France and immediately went looking for a car rental shop. My wife and I needed a car for a day and the Smart Car looked perfect.)

    We may have paved over a lot of the earth but please don’t try to foist the blame onto my little Morgan. She hates the large freeways. She’s happiest on narrow, older roads. She delights in finding a way from here to there that is slow but fun. If you are in a hurry to get somewhere, you might be better off taking the train.

    That’s right; owning a Morgan actually encourages the use of rapid transit. But it also encourages runs to Shaw’s dairy bar south of St. Thomas for a chocolate malted milk shake or a Sunday morning visit to Telegraph House in Port Stanley for a lovely brunch on the patio.

    Oh, one last thing, my Morgan doesn’t do drive throughs.
    Cars, small efficient cars like these Morgans have a role to play when taking a green approach to life.

    Sunday, December 6, 2009

    No new blogs till Tuesday

    Some pressing stuff has come up and blogging has been pushed to the back burner. One important thing is picking up the Morgan in Toronto. The mechanics say she is healthy enough to come home on her own power.

    I love a winter drive in that car. Possibly will blog on the joys of hypothermia on Tuesday. The English knew how to build car heaters that work forever. Whether working or not, they put out the same amount of heat. Brilliant.

    Also, would like to look at the changes in how many people are looking at copyright. What exactly is creative commons? I used a CC image the other day and could not find the code for CC. I found copyright, the c in a circle, but not creative commons.

    And what is pop culture? Does it exist? Do we care? My local newspaper thinks enough of it to have a pop culture expert on staff who asks such important questions as: What television program or televised event will still be being watched in a 100 years?

    Brings back thoughts of Man with a Camera, Johnny Jupiter, Boston Blackie, My Little Margie, Our Miss Brooks... Most have faded from memory and it didn't take 60 years.

    If you haven't checked out the video on a healthy baby making the leap from newborn into baby, it follows this post.

    And if you are interested in the impending death of The Great Lakes fisheries, continue to scroll down and you will come to a little blurb and a link to the Digital Journal where I have posted an opinion piece. I can get hits in the thousands posting to the DJ and so for stories like the Asian carp it is a better forum for getting out the word.

    Cheers,
    Have a nice day,
    Rockinon.

    Saturday, December 5, 2009

    Healthy

    Today there is a video addition to an older post looking at life's milestones. There's age 13 and becoming a teen, there's age 16 and getting your driver's licence, there's 21, drinking, and 65, retiring, and . . . and then there's one of the most important milestones — three months. Yes, three months is a milestone.

    Check this short, 40 second video of Fiona at three months. Watch her eyes grow as she twigs to the fact that she and mom are about to play a game and then see the laughter from the fun. If you're a parent, there are certain very important things you look for as your baby hits the three month mark. A baby's laugher indicates good health and is just one more reason why it makes a parent laugh with joy.



    Motor skills: At first Fiona was a Wobbly Head. But little ones are exercise crazy and all that vigorous stretching and by three months all that kicking and stretching is beginning to pay off.  She is beginning to hold her head high, putting her Wobbly Head days behind her.

    Vision: Most newborns focus best on objects about 12 inches away, or the distance to mom's face during a feeding. But by age three months, according to the experts, Fiona is ready for art. The experts agree that Fiona is ready to appreciate more complex stuff, like intricate, geometric Navajo designs in rich earth-tones. Her preference for a big, beautiful red painting done by a friend in Montreal is real. I am not imagining things. (Whew!)

    Hearing: Even newborns respond to loud noises; They blink, act startled, even frown. But today Fiona responds with noticeable discernment. She smiles — a relaxed, contented smile — especially when mom or dad are speaking.

    Communication: At three months communication skills are definitely non-verbal but they are there nevertheless. There is a new tone to the cries, the coos. One best pay attention or soon the tone will take a nasty turn and Fiona gets downright insistent: "Now, listen up!"

    When pleased the little queen will measure out a smile and if bored with the present company she will decide to entertain herself by blowing bubbles. Waving hands and wiggling feet can be quite captivating. If you are going to hold Fiona's attention you've got to prove yourself a more interesting companion than her ten toes. This is not as easy as it sounds.

    Who would have thought that the ability to savour the pleasures of bubble blowing would be an indication of healthy development?

    Which brings me back to the walks I take with Fiona down the hall. The experts say simple conversation, and my conversation with Fiona can be as simple as they come, lays the groundwork for language development. Describing sights, smells and sounds around the house is good. Fiona may not understand a word but she is a sensitive little thing and can pick up stuff from just the tone of your voice. (I've actually used a firm tone to ask her to stop crying and she has stopped. I immediately headed for the hallway and the art to reward her good conduct.)

    Which brings us to the flip-side of all this. Babies reach developmental milestones at different ages but by three months one should consult the baby's doctor if any of the following red flags are flying:
    • No improvement in head control
    • No attempts to lift the head when lying facedown
    • Extreme floppiness
    • Lack of response to sounds or visual cues, such as loud noises or bright lights
    • Inability to focus on a caregiver's eyes
    • Poor weight gain
     Like I said, Fiona has passed some important milestones.  :-)

    Are The Great Lakes fisheries doomed?

    Asian carp have been making their way north up the Mississippi for more than a dozen years and those in charge are still formulating plans to protect The Great Lakes.

    It is time to erect a barrier between the Des Plaines River and the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal (CSSC) to stop flood water from carrying Asian carp into the CSSC. A quickly constructed sandbag barrier would be a start.

    Connections between the Illinois & Michigan Canal and the CSSC should be closed. And until the waters are known clear of Asian carp, the locks leading into Lake Michigan should be closed and remain closed until it is certain that the electrified fish barrier actually works.

    The time for proactive talk has long past and it is time for good old fashion action.

    I have written an opinion piece for the Digital Journal on this imminent threat to the health of the valuable Great Lakes fisheries.
    ________________________________________________________
    Photo credit: U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service

    Library Magic

    Years ago I covered a small, local magic show. The magician called a woman to the stage and, while we all watched, he had her carefully inspect three large, separate, silver rings. After thoroughly checking each ring, one after the other, the woman assured the audience the rings were solid; There were no gaps.

    The woman went back to her seat and the magician proceeded to quickly link and unlink the rings.  At one point he swung the three rings, clearly firmly linked, above his head. He even engaged in a tug-of-war with a person in the front row. The rings could not be separated.

    With everyone convinced the rings were now solidly linked, he pulled one free and tossed it offstage. He pulled the remaining two rings apart and held them high in the air, one in his left hand the other other in his right. He tossed the rings offstage to loud and enthusiastic applause.

    Later, I had a chance to slip backstage where I saw the magician's open suitcase sitting with the three rings in clear view. I checked the rings. One had a large gap. The magician had tricked the woman into looking over one solid ring twice.

    The trick's explanation was simple and obvious. It just took a lot of skill and experience to pull it off.

    Which brings me to librarians: Years ago, when the paper at which I worked still had a proper library, I needed some information concerning an accident picture shot years earlier. I went to the library expecting that maybe, if I was lucky, they would have something on micro fiche.

    I dropped off my request with the library staff and left. Minutes later one of the librarians stopped by the photo department. She had a copy of the published story, complete with published picture and she also had the original photographic print of the accident. The print still bore the blue crayon cropping marks left by an editor.

    This was magic. A random image of a rather small news event and the library seemingly pulled it from thin air. I thought it seemed a nigh impossible feat. They couldn't possibly file nearly every image that appeared in the paper, could they? They would need an immense room in the basement and an absolutely mind-boggling filing system. Well, they had both. These librarians were good.

    When I left the paper, I followed the path blazed by the librarians. Deemed redundant, computers could handle their jobs, they were all let go. Oh, some of the library operation was kept but not in-house; those library functions were moved to Toronto.

    Sadly, the magic left the system with the exit of the librarians.

    If an editor needed a picture of the London skyline, one published within the past year, and searched using "London", the editor immediately realized that almost every picture in the system has London in the cutline. If they added skyline to their search, they got a few hits but they might not find the recent image they needed.

    With no librarians filing images, there were no consistent keywords being attached to the pictures. The shots were being tracked by whatever lines the photographer attached at the time the image was placed in the system. A skyline picture at sunset could be filed as London buildings at dusk or a red sky glows over London's downtown.

    Out with all the skilled staff, out with the need for experience, out with all the highly paid jobs: My guess is that Quebecor believes one out of three ain't bad. Eliminating jobs is always a fine, profitable move. It seems Three Dog Night set the bar too high.

    I wonder if a newsroom in China has librarians?
    Photo by: Kevin Van Lierop © Creative Commons

    Friday, December 4, 2009

    The Not Geek Dinner

    "Maybe dork would be a better word?"

    I posted a little piece on London Daily Photo on the recent once-a-month Geek dinner held here in London, Ontario.

    There are hundreds of daily photo sites, if not thousands, around the world and the Geek dinner evening is a perfect event to post to these forums.

    In my post, I took mild umbrage at the use of the word "geek". I checked its meaning, and yes it was in my Canadian Oxford Dictionary, and the word did not describe the people at the dinner. It wasn't even close.

    I received a humorous comment suggesting that maybe dork would be a better word. I laughed and read the comment to my wife who agreed but for the weirdest of reasons: when she was a teen, the kids with whom she hung-out twisted dork into a compliment.

    These teens claimed, and possibly believed, that dork was a shortening of the name Dorcas, a woman in the Bible famous for her acts of kindness. A dressmaker, she made clothes for the poor in her village of Joppa.

    Dorcas was a real “doer.” If she had an idea, she acted upon it. Not a wealthy woman herself, Dorcas gave not money but she gave of herself. If she thought of a way to help the needy, she immediately carried out her plan. She knew what she could do and she did it. She made clothes for widows, both young and old, for their children and for all in need in her community.

    Greatly loved and respected, she busied herself with her good deeds. She did not strive to be an admired leader; She was not driven by ego. Still, in the end, she did become a leader in philanthropic causes.

    When she died, the grief-stricken people of Joppa sent word to the Apostle Peter who was visiting a neighbouring town. When Peter arrived, he found Dorcas laid out for her funeral. Surrounding her were coats and other garments that she had made and freely given away over the years.

    Peter looked around and saw the aged widows whose hands were too feeble to sew and too poor to pay others for their work; He saw the younger widows accompanied by children clothed by Dorcas.

    Peter, his emotions touched, sent all from the room and then knelt down and prayed. God answered his prayers and Dorcas arose from the dead.

    Since then, women throughout history have formed “Dorcas Societies”, holding to humanitarian ideals and engaging in various relief activities.

    I don't believe these ladies, so influenced by the example set by Dorcas, were ever called Dorcs or Dorks. I think these teens were wrong. One might even say that they were being dorks but I won't.

    There is a type of gazelle today called the dorcas gazelle. It seems, "Dorcas" is a female name of Greek origins, meaning "gazelle".

    I like to think that these teens bounded lightly away, gazelle-like, escaping the taint of a nasty insult.

    Wednesday, December 2, 2009

    Infectious Art

    The Jones New York women's fashions factory outlet is closing. Come January it will be gone. Like so many of the stores in the mall at the intersection of Wellington and Exeter Roads, it soon will be empty.

    My wife and I stopped by there the other day. Retired, we seek out bargains and the Jones store was filled with them. Marked down women's wear, marked down again.

    My wife tried on this and that and bought more this and that than I would have liked. I felt we couldn't afford it; We're retired. She felt we couldn't miss the bargains; We're retired. Ah, the same shade of grey but it looks different to each of us.

    While my wife shopped, I took pictures. Surrounded by beautiful fabrics and clean light, I took out my little camera and set to work.

    The staff watched, obviously curious. I got down on my knees for one pictures and stretched out over a round rack of dresses for another. I held my little camera up, down and rotated it diagonally.

    Unable to keep their silence, they asked me politely what I was doing. I told them and I showed them the pictures on the camera-back monitor.

    "Oh." They understood.
    Now art was in the air. It filled the store and the staff was infected. "Have you looked outside?" A couple of the sales clerks were really getting into this and they had discovered their own art moment. "Those clouds won't last," they told me.

    I slipped out the door into the parking lot. They were right.

    Tuesday, December 1, 2009

    The only constant in life is change.

    For sharing family photos, Facebook is good but I find it cluttered. I share images quickly by including them in blog posts. The picture of Fiona at the end of this post was downloaded within minutes of hitting the Net.

    But the speed at which we share stuff today is not today's story. Today we look at milestones and the changes I've noticed in Fiona. I checked the Internet and discovered . . .

    Motor skills: At first Fiona was a "Wobbly Head." But little ones are exercise crazy and all that vigorous stretching and kicking quickly pays dividends.  At three months she holds her head high, her Wobbly Head days are behind her.

    Vision: Most newborns focus best on objects about 12 inches away, or the distance to mom's face during a feeding. But by age three months, according to the experts, Fiona is ready for art. The experts agree that Fiona is ready to appreciate more complex stuff, like intricate, geometric Navajo designs in rich earth-tones. Her preference for a big, beautiful red painting done by a friend in Montreal is real. I am not imagining things. (Whew!)

    Hearing: Even newborns respond to loud noises; They blink, act startled, even frown. But today Fiona responds with noticeable discernment. She smilesa relaxed, contented smileespecially whenever mom or dad are speaking.

    Communication: At three months communication skills are definitely non-verbal but they are present nevertheless. There is a new tone to her cries, the coos. One best pay attention or soon the tone will take a nasty turn and Fiona will get downright insistent: "Now, listen up!"

    When pleased the little queen will measure out a smile and if bored she will entertain herself by blowing bubbles. Waving hands and wiggling feet can be quite captivating. If you are going to hold Fiona's attention you've got to prove yourself a more interesting companion than her ten toes. This is not as easy as it sounds.

    (This makes me think of a picturea close-up of her little lips, so perfectly formed, pursed, puckered and blowing bubbles. Could be beautiful.)

    Which brings me back to our walks down the hall. The experts say simple conversation, and mine can be as simple as they come, lays the groundwork for language development. Describing sights, smells and sounds around the house is good. Fiona may not understand a word but she is sensitive and picks up stuff from just the tone of your voice. (I've actually used a firm tone to ask her to stop crying and she has stopped. I immediately headed for the hallway to view the art on the walls and to reward her for good conduct.)

    Which brings us to the flip-side of all this. Babies reach developmental milestones at different ages, but by three months one should consult the baby's doctor if any of the following red flags are flying:
    • No improvement in head control
    • No attempts to lift the head when lying facedown
    • Extreme floppiness
    • Lack of response to sounds or visual cues, such as loud noises or bright lights
    • Inability to focus on a caregiver's eyes
    • Poor weight gain
     Like I said, Fiona has passed some important milestones.

    Update: Fiona at 21-months

    Milestones are still being reached and passed. "You go, girl!"

    Monday, November 30, 2009

    Fiona soon to be three - months!

    For those who are waiting patiently to see Fiona and daddy John. Here is a post just for you.

    Fiona has passed a milestone; She is no longer a newborn baby. She is now simply a baby. She now is holding her head up, checking out her surroundings. So far everything seems to have passed inspection.

    Judy calls her a pothead as she is quite taken with the stainless steel pots hanging from the ceiling above our kitchen counter.

    I think of her as more of an art buff; She quiets right down when I stroll around our home and discuss the art with the obviously intensely interested little girl cradled in my arms. She is especially interested in the various sculptures that sit on our livingroom mantle.

    Cheers,
    Rockinon

    You're more powerful than you think.

    Note: the video has been changed. I was told that my first was like a feel-good e-mail message. That was enough for me; I changed the video immediately. I removed the cheese.
    __________________________________________________

    What we do in life is important. We've all heard of the "Butterfly Effect." If conditions are right, small actions have big effects. 

    Your actions reverberate in the world much longer than you would ever imagine. You truly are more powerful than you think.

    This post and the video were inspired by a passage in the book The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs. Troubled by the unfairness of the biblical injunction that wicked acts by the fathers will be visited upon the children to the third and fourth generation, Jacobs, after much thought, arrived at a generous interpretation, and came to appreciate the passage with his new insight.

    As a young boy I, too, was troubled by the unfairness of this Biblical passage. My mother had an interpretation which was in agreement with Jacobs. Years later I chatted with a minister who would go on to become a bishop and he confirmed my mother's interpretation.

    Our actions influence others. A father's bad actions set a bad example not just for his children but  for generations to come. Set a bad example and your children and your children's children may very well suffer. 

    But why stop with fathers?


    Cheers, 
    Rockinon.


    Saturday, November 28, 2009

    Modern Dance_a burning obsession

    Years ago I shot some pictures for a gentleman and his wife; Both were movers and shakers in the art scene here in London, Ontario. As payment for my work they gave me not just cash, always nice, but tickets for two to each show at a local theatre.

    Of all the theatre stuff I was exposed to in those 12-months, I think the modern dance nights were my favourites. I knew very little about modern dance but by then end of the year I was making the drive to Toronto to catch the Danny Grossman Dance Company and attending the Joffrey Ballet in New York. When the touring arm of the Joffrey stopped in London, I made sure I was there.

    For me, the best modern dance was imaginative and visually witty with a patina of surrealism. I would go on about the "incongruous juxtapositions" but I never felt comfortable with that talk in art school and I am not about to get into it now.

    The only way to make such a conversation work is to get a good group of friends, a couple of jugs of beer and lots of pub-popcorn and peanuts and then, and only then, is it possible to launch into a discussion of what it means to conduct an entire dance routine under a bright red sheet of lycra stretched tautly over an entire stage. The dancers are never seen. All we see are the moving, expanding and contracting bulges, the result of the dancers performing under the distorted fabric.

    All the foregoing was an introduction to this video by Memo Akten.

    This video is an off-shoot from a visual performance accompanying the Rambert Dance Company at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, South Bank, London UK . . . When the clip starts, you probably won't recognize a human shape, but your eyes and mind will be searching, seeking mental connections between abstract shapes and recognizable patterns, like looking for shapes in clouds. You'll be questioning what you see, is that him? is he sitting? is he crouching? is he kneeling? until all of a sudden, he'll be crystal clear . . .

    The dancers are Robin Gladwin and Miguel Altunaga. Choreography by Alexander Whitley.


    Reincarnation from Memo Akten on Vimeo.

    Enjoy,
    Cheers,
    Rockinon

    Christmas in Norway

    I have linked to this site so often in the past that I am beginning to feel pangs of guilt. Oh well, I can handle them.

    I saw Elle's tweet and thought "ho hum" but no, it's a" ho ho ho." What gives this post an edge? - the picture of the helicopter placing a Christmas tree on a bridge. It is just such a neat thing to do on so many levels.

    The lights are starting to appear in London and soon I'll go out and get some shots of the local crazies who light their homes better than Niagara Falls.

    Cheers,
    Rockinon

    Friday, November 27, 2009

    Social Networking

    Last night I blogged on my reaction to women wearing hijabs in London, Ontario. My thoughts had me thinking about how I treat Muslims and why I treat them that way.

    This morning I heard from a blogger in Iran! A woman who goes by the name of Shahrzah, and she gave me permission to use some art from her site. She also took the time to enrich my knowledge concerning the attire of Muslim women.

    Here are her comments:

    Salam/Hi/Peace

    I read your post and it's thoughtful. You have permission to use photos from my blog if you want to. And i am so happy that you've decided not to treat Muslim stereotypically as some few people do.

    However i would like to give you few information about the hijab and hijab law in Iran. Actually based on law, Iranian women must cover their head by scarf, but it does not include forcing to wear burka or things like that. There's no force to cover the head thoroughly as well. There was a religious police since some years after revolution, but now after coming for second term, Ahmadinejad has eliminated that ancient religious police!

    Nobody wears burkas in Iran. Burkas are popular in Afghanistan and some other Asian countries. In fact Iranian women never cover their face, bcs religiously they're not recommended too. (Iranians follow a different sect of Islam, name as 'Shia or Shiite Islam and women are not recommended to wear face cover.)

    There's a traditional way of hijab with the name "Chador" and this chador has a history related to pre-Islamic era when Iranians used to follow Zoroastrian religion and women of rich families were obligated to wear chador. Nowadays nobody is forced to wear chador, but some women 'chose' to wear it.

    Best Regards,
    Shahrzah


    My addition: Years ago, while still working at the newspaper I shot pictures of two sisters who were practising Zoroastrians. At the time there were about four or five dozen Zoroastrians living in London, Ontario.

    Thursday, November 26, 2009

    Just a scarf?

    The young woman wore a dark, long-sleeved, floor-length dress with a matching hijab. She was working behind the counter at a local store. She smiled at my wife and at me and started totalling our purchases.

    This was my second contact with this young woman. She had checked me through a few days before, when I bought a large, wooden toy stove for my new granddaughter. The hijab wearing woman had asked if I would need help carrying the stove to my car and I had laughed that I was not that old. Well, I allowed, I might be that old but I wasn't that out-of-shape.

    She had asked who the stove was for — a granddaughter perhaps? I had replied, "Yes." As she taped the loose parts, ensuring I would reach home with the complete stove, we had chatted. I paid, we parted and soon I was struggling through the parking lot with a stove that grew bigger and heavier with every step. I was that out-of-shape.

    Driving home I thought about her head covering, her colour coordinated scarf, her hijab — a traditional headdress worn by Muslim women. But before I worked through my thoughts, I was home.

    Now my wife and I were back and we had the same young woman checking us out. I think she recalled me — the foolish old man, too proud to accept help carrying an immense, heavy, wooden toy stove to his car.

    My wife had a number of delicate canisters and each had to be individually wrapped to make sure they wouldn't knock together and break. As the young woman worked, she chatted with my wife and with me. She asked about our family and Christmas. She confided that her family was quite large and if they celebrated Christmas it would be one expensive festival.

    The hijab, unlike the burka, does not cover a woman's face. This young woman's charming and disarming smile was not hidden. When we took our bags filled with Christmas gifts to leave, her thank you followed by the invitation to come again, had the warmth of sincerity.

    I'd like to say that I treated this young woman exactly the same way that I would treat any counter person, but I didn't. I tried to be friendlier than usual. I went out of my way to not look at, and to not react to, her obvious Muslim attire.

    I mentioned this to my wife and I told her how, if a Muslim family was approaching a store door immediately behind me, I would walk through and then hold the door open for them. I will wait a few moments longer for a Muslim family. I go out of my way to let Muslims see that I treat them just like I treat others.

    I see my actions as my own, small way of fighting terrorism. I will not be bullied into treating my Muslim neighbours differently because of the actions of a few nasty extremist crazies living, and dying, many thousands of miles away.

    My small, positive actions don't seem like much, almost nothing.

    But then I think of France. Last June President Nicolas Sarkozy said, "In our country (France), we cannot accept that women be prisoners behind a screen, cut off from all social life, deprived of all identity." The burka — the all-concealing Muslim dress, with mesh covering the eyes — is "a sign of subservience, a sign of debasement," he said. " . . . it will not be welcome on our territory."

    In 2004, a law banning the Islamic headscarf — the hijab — and other highly visible religious symbols from French public schools sparked heated debate. He's not smiling and ignoring the head scarf. He's not holding any doors.

    Interestingly, in Tunisia — Muslim North Africa — a similar ban has been enforced and ignored in waves since 1981 when a government decree prohibited women from wearing Islamic head scarves in public places. Tunisian human-rights activists accuse authorities of depriving women of a basic freedom guaranteed by the Tunisian constitution.

    Photo credit: Shahrazad. [The two images of Iranian women wearing hijabs.]

    When I was in Tunisia about a decade ago I would see women walking together, some wearing hijabs, some wearing western dress, while still others in the same group wore body-covering robes hiding all, including their faces. I thought it was pretty cool.

    At one point during my visit, I was able to slip into a women-only-club in downtown Tunis. Dozens of western dressed Tunisian ladies held a business luncheon from which all men were barred but for some waiters, the musicians in the band and a smooth talking Canadian photographer. How I managed smooth talk my way in using my limited high school French, I don't know.

    But I do know that those women would agree with Sarkozy. They talked about how Saudi and Iranian women must wear the hijab by law and often wear the full burka, not by choice, but out of fear. These ladies might not hold the door for a woman wearing a hijab.

    Confused? Me too. But, I think I'll keep smiling, chatting, and holding doors.


    Addendum:

    "I go out of my way to let Muslims see that I treat them just like I treat others." My wife thought this too subtle. If I go out of my way, I do not treat Muslims as I treat others. My behaviour has been changed by the events of this decade.
    The picture on the left accompanied the story I wrote for the paper on Tunisia. This woman had passed on the hijab in favour of the cap and white cuffs of the Police de Circulation, or traffic cops.


    For more info on Muslim dress, check out my post "Social" Networking. A lady from Iran contacted me and has added first-hand info. Ah the virtual world is a wonderful place, and that's reality.

    Wednesday, November 25, 2009

    Computer Died, Blog Stalled, Back Thursday!

    I'll be back - Thursday. I have a new computer. Yeah!

    Thursday, November 19, 2009

    Romantic Fever

    Welcome!    Velkommen!     ¡Bienvenido!     Salut!      أهلا وسهلا
    ____________________________________________________

    I can still recall the first time I even gave a thought to having a computer in the home. I was in Detroit buying nylon rode plus dacron sheets and halyards for my sailboat, stuff was cheaper in the States. I caught an Apple II ad squeezed in between the steady stream of old Motown hits.

    Why would anyone, I mean anyone, want a personal computer? Talk about stupid.

    Then I went to a Canadian Industries Limited (CIL) open house and visited their "computer room." It was a relatively dust-free room, no carpets, with an air conditioning system specifically installed for the computers. The room had to be cool. And it was. It had a dozen Apple IIs running something called a VisiCalc spreadsheet.

    Change the number in a square, called a cell, and a wave quickly rippled across the screen as all the numbers changed. These little computers were at the heart of the London CIL operation. They calculated financial projections and complex “what if” scenarios. I was awed.

    When the Mac 128 came out, I bought a computer for the home. I did it while my wife was away. I set my baby up in the kitchen on one counter top and ran cables across the narrow room to the printer on the opposite counter. The Mac had 128KB of RAM,  a 64 KB ROM, a 400 KB floppy that didn't flop, it was encased in plastic and the best thing was the screen - run the word processor software, MacWrite, and the screen was like a window on a white sheet of paper with black type. It gave a WYSIWYG image. All I could say was WOW!

    There was no going back. I had seen the promised land and it was populated with computers. My Underwood sits in the garage forgotten. My early favourite film camera hasn't been out of its box in years. My darkroom is now in a dark box. My World Books no longer reflect the world and sit shelved in the basement. Computers are everywhere and do everything.

    A few years ago I decided to try and learn French and so I went back to school. I did O.K. I can now read French fairly quickly. Today I loaded a new beta version of Blogger software, and if I want to blog in French it is computer easy. Select the words, click on the Define / translate icon.

    To put the words into French was as easy as select, point, click, copy and paste.
    Pour mettre les paroles en français était aussi facile que pointer choisir, clic, copier et coller.

    Let's try translating the same words from English to Spanish.

    Para poner las palabras en francés era tan fácil como seleccionar el punto,, click, copiar y pegar.

    Out of curiousity, if I went from English to French to Spanish and back to English. The result?

    To put words in French was as easy as pointing to select, click Paste.

    It got muddled in translation and yet to err is human. Someday, they'll get the human error out of the software. For now this software reminds me of my high school girlfriend. She was from Cairo and her mother tongue was not English.

    She would enter a room and "open the lights." When she asked for a favour, she would start out, "I beg of you . . . " When she arrived in Canada she was asked her medical history. Rosy had had rheumatic fever as a child and replied, "I suffered badly from romantic fever."

    I do hope they have the bugs out of the software soon. "Suffering badly from romantic fever," sounded much better when Rosy said it.

    Wednesday, November 18, 2009

    Put out to pasture_they've earned a rest

    Some blogs posted here have been entertaining in their own right but they also had other reasons for hanging around gathering digital dust. In the past three days they have all been checked out. Now, their work done, these blogs have been retired.

    They are going to join the one and only video ever shot for posting here and which was taken down after just a day or two.

    Cheers,
    Rockinon

    Monday, November 16, 2009

    Art Rules!

    If you're here to read my take on the SMarts London Social Media Un-Conference, scroll down. Sorry, but a more pressing issue has come up: Art!

    And this blog will be at the top to-morrow, I'll move it, and it may grow. So, if you come tomorrow for my little follow-up to today's SMarts post, get ready to scroll again.

    I don't know how anyone can get up in front of an audience and say that by the end of the week they have nothing more to share on the Net. This morning I checked where my hits are coming from, I put out a tweat and checked the Twitter feeds to which I subscribe.

    I found the following tweat:
    hunniebunnie
    Put a snazzy new flash ellemusic player with my song "Let You In" on
    http://bit.ly/1LZ05I
    Come listen! :)

    If that address doesn't work once removed from its Twitter home, and I bet it doesn't, try the following link:
    ellemusic on MySpace

    Elle is a talented London woman who is now living in Scandinavia. How I discovered her site, I really don't know. But it is just such an eclectic site with a strong patina of "art" washed over it that even though I could not care less for fashion, I visit there now and then.

    Elle is not just a good writer, photographer and graphics artist, she is also a musician. I believe she had a group in her teens in London. James Reaney might know Elle. He seems to know everyone even remotely connected to the arts in London (Ontario).

    At the SMarts Conference the last event was a panel discussion on free art. Does giving away artistic creations on the Net, or worst having them simply ripped off, help or hurt the artist? There were two women and two men on the panel, all with both feet placed firmly in the world of art.

    The speakers all had strong positions and presented them well but the one I liked best was the feisty one - an artist named Olenka. She saw the problem very clearly, unfortunately the world does not see what she sees. Olenka was not swayed. Taking stuff for free, stuff not offered, is theft. Period! And those taking the art are thieves.

    Olenka said, "Lot's of people are making money on social media and it's off our backs - you people are patsies!" Olenka is out to change the world, to change the world's perception of what it means to take stuff for free from the Net - stuff that was never meant to be free. (I would add that if the artist gives the stuff away because they feel pressured, that is a digital world mugging. "Hands up. Hand over your zeros and ones, now!")

    I like it.

    Elle is sharing. Fine. But we must find a way to reward our artists. They civilize our world. Without artists, it's back to the caves - but if your cave is in the south of France it won't be so bad. The cave walls there are covered with incredible art.

    Saturday, November 14, 2009

    Shout Out to: Out of Work Young Lady Met at Conference

    Please send me an e-mail and let me know how to get in touch with you and I'll see if I can find someone interested in your story but not interested in you. No name attached to story. I'd like to take a crack at helping you.


    My e-mail is londondailyphoto1@hotmail.com ---- Note the number 1 after photo.


    Do hope I hear from you.

    Thursday, November 12, 2009

    Biscotti — the way to a man's heart

    I love coffee. Rich, almost thick coffee, with a small whack of sugar and smoothing splash of milk sometimes even half and half. But what truly makes a cup of coffee, for me, is something that is only dipped, temporarily into the cup, and that's my wife's biscotti.

    Dried cherries, oven toasted hazelnuts and a little lemon zest all combine to make these just about perfect.

    A good cup of coffee, a crisp biscotti ready for dipping, and my morning London Free Press, the perfect way to start a day.

    If you'd like to try making my wife's biscotti you'll need:

    4 cups (1 l) all-purpose flour
    2 tsp (10 ml) baking powder
    1/2 tsp (2 ml) salt
    Grated lemon zest from 1 lemon
    1 cup (250 ml) sliced hazelnuts lightly toasted in the oven or in a dry frying pan
    4 large eggs
    1 1/2 cups (225 ml) granulated sugar
    1/2 cup (125ml) vegetable oil
    1 tbsp (15 ml) lemon juice
    1 tsp (5 ml) vanilla extract - use the real stuff and not vanillin
    1 cup (250 ml) dried cherries

    1. Preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C)

    2. Line a large baking pan with parchment paper.

    3. In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder,salt, lemon zest and hazelnuts.

    4. Using a KitchenAid stand mixer, beat eggs until fluffy and a light coloured.

    5. Slowly beat in sugar, then oil, lemon juice and vanilla.

    6. Slowly add flour mixture and stir until dry mixture is nearly absorbed.

    7. Finally, stir in dried cherries.

    8. With water-moistened hands divide dough in half and form each into a loaf about 15 inches (38 cm) long and 4 inches (10 cm) wide on a baking sheet. Keep loaves at least 2 inches (5 cm) apart.

    9. Bake from 35 to 40 minutes or until small cracks are visible and tops are golden.

    10. Slice loaves onto a large cutting board and cut crosswise into 1/2 inch (1 1/4 cm) thick slices. If the knife blade becomes sticky, wipe with a damp cloth.

    11. Stand slices upright and about 1/2 inch (1 1/4 cm) apart on baking pan.

    12. Reduce oven temperature to 300°F (150°C) and bake 30 to 35 minutes or until biscotti are dry to the touch.

    13. Remove from oven and cool on baking sheet sitting on a rack.

    14. When completely cool, store in airtight containers.

    This should make about four dozen biscotti. This is enough for more than three weeks if you share them with your partner and you both show proper restraint.

    Cheers,
    Rockinon

    Tuesday, November 10, 2009

    Penises regrown in rabbits!


    It's true. I looked up the press release from the university involved and have done a report for, you guessed it, Digital Journal.

    If you haven't heard about, or read about, this yet, here is my take:

    Digital Journal: Rabbits grow new penises

    Most reports don't go into detail about the other work being done by the Institute for Regenerative Medicine at Wake Forest University Baptist Medical Centre. Their work is absolutely amazing. If you are really interested, click on the link to my DJ article.

    Oh, and if you've got the time, check out London Daily Photo. I'm rather happy with the picture and writing. If you have even more time, there is new photo tip at Rockin' On: Photography.

    Cheers,
    Rockinon

    Monday, November 9, 2009

    Asian carp poised to invade the Great Lakes



    I have posted one of my best news reports; It looks at the danger presently posed to the Great Lakes by an invasion of Asian carp made possible by creative human ineptitude.

    The story has been posted on Digital Journal.

    Cheers,
    Rockinon

    Saturday, November 7, 2009

    It was a green car!

    It's November and it's cold in Canada. Oh, it will get colder but let's not quibble; it's cold.

    I don't drive my Morgan too often in the winter but I do drive it. I'm not very mechanical. Pulling plugs and filling cylinders with oil seems harder than just driving the old car for 45 minutes every four weeks.

    If you don't run an engine regularly, the cylinders can rust. I know this is true but we don't want to go there . . . well, maybe we do. That incident, as embarrassing as it was, is at the core of this post.

    You see, my Morgan was vandalized years ago. And to make a long story short, I was forced to store the car for years. Finally, I found someone to fix the car. I loaded it on a flat bed and had it trucked to Bolton, Ontario.

    When the mechanic pulled the head, he discovered the pistons were rusted to the cylinders. "Didn't you put oil in the cylinders," he asked. "Of course," I replied. "I did that before putting it into storage."

    "That was years ago! Heavens, man! Haven't you heard of gravity? Over time the oil seeps down to the bottom of the engine leaving the cylinder metal exposed." He then took a power chisel and broke up the pistons and chipped the cylinder sleeves from the engine.

    Lot's of other stuff was equally damaged from doing nothing. I began to think my old car was a lot like a person. If you want rusty arteries, just sit and do nothing. Do nothing and it will come, meaning deterioration.

    It took my mechanic three years of off-again-on-again work to put my Morgan back on the road. When I had some cash, the work was on. When I didn't, the work was off. There were a lot of offs.

    But, in the end, it was fixed. My wife and I drove it to San Francisco in 2005 for the Morgans Over America tour. We saw the Grand Canyon. We spent a night in Hannibal, Missouri, made famous by Mark Twain. We took the Chi-Cheemaun car ferry from the largest, freshwater island in the world to Tobermory at the tip of the scenic Bruce in Ontario. And when we got to Toronto the car died. It needed a new cam shaft.

    You know what's coming: I loaded it on a flat bed and had it trucked to Bolton.

    Fixed again, my wife and I drove it to Montreal, Ottawa, Kingston, Niagara Falls, Detroit — they loved it in Detroit — hey, it is Motown. 

    And then the other day, out for a late fall run, gotta keep that rust at bay, I felt my heel slip. I thought there was a lose piece of paper, or maybe a leaf, under my foot. I reached down and felt something warm, like blood, but slippery. I looked at my fingers. Oil! My engine's life blood! A quick glance at the oil gauge confirmed that I had no pressure. Zero. I immediately shut the engine off.

    I just got off the phone to the mechanic. He says that I have horseshoes where the sun don't shine, or something to that effect. The engine is fine. A hose carrying oil to the one-shot lubrication system (don't ask) broke. I shut the engine down in time. No damage.

    So, what's the point of all of this? Why is this blog titled "It was a green car?" If you're thinking it's because of all the money, the green, that the little car has devoured, you're wrong.

    Here's the scoop — the Environmental Rating for Vehicles (ERV) has been calculated for the Morgan roadster by Cardiff University and a new Morgan 4/4 rates almost 7 per cent higher than a Toyota Prius Hybrid!

    If I asked you to name a car that was designed and built around the principle of weight reduction, you might not think of a sports car but you should have. My Morgan doesn't tip the scales at even 2000 lbs., and yet it can mosey down highway 401 and hold its own against the turbulence caused by even the largest trucks. Size does matter and small is better. And what you do with that small size is important, too.

    According to the Cardiff University report, "despite the traditional styling of Morgan cars, they can out-compete most . . . modern competitors in terms of environmental performance." And, as I said, they're no slouches on the highway either. (Ah, but twisty, narrow, back country roads, like those snaking up and down the Niagara escarpment, on those roads from hell Morgans find heaven.)

    So, how does a car earn a good ERV rating?

    - low weight
    - good use of materials
    - low emissions
    - durability
    - a green manufacturing system
    - a forward looking approach

    Many new Morgans tip the scales at only 50 kg more than The Smart Car. Morgans use lots of steel, sometimes aluminum, and even wood in their construction — think recyclables. New Morgans use state-of-the-art engines from manufacturers like BMW.

    Now, your might think that durability was the weak spot in the Morgan green armour. If you did, you're wrong. Morgans are durable. I bought mine in December of 1968 and yet among Morgan owners, I'm a bit of a newbie. One fellow, I know, bought his Morgan in 1956! The factory encourages this by supplying parts  for up to 50 years after a car was produced. And don't discount the emotional attachment owners have for their Morgans; Morgan owners are as durable as their cars — although I, personally,  have never needed a flatbed. I have needed an ambulance, though.

    Around 60 -70 million cars are produced every year with the numbers climbing constantly. This is clearly unsustainable. If car making is to survive, all manufacturers will have to move towards to a business model closer to that of Morgan and other low volume producers than that of General Motors. (Hey, Morgan has been in business for a hundred years and, unlike GM, is still standing on its own two feet — uh, four, four wheels.)

    Lastly, if you believe a car company famous for deviating little from a 1930s design is hardly a forward thinking company then you're wrong again. Morgan has announced the LIFECar, designed to prove a car can be lean, green and still fun, is going into production. And then there is the all electric Morgan based on the original three-wheel Morgan design with roots going back to the early years of the last century.

    Finally, why do I say my Morgan "was" green in the past tense? Internal combustion engines have come a long way since 1968. By today's standards my 4-cylinder was a polluter. I'm afraid its days of making claims to being green have passed.

    Friday, November 6, 2009

    A thank you

    I don't know how long my Page Rank will remain at three but three is amazing. I never thought that I would have a page rank on parr with Elle and Brian. Sonny Drysdale has earned a rating of four with his very entertaining blog.

    This blog has been more successful than I ever imagined and for that I must say thank you. It would not be possible to do so much if it were not for you, the regular readers or occasional visitors.

    Thank you.

    Cheers,
    Rockinon

    The Digital Journal Experiment Continues


    When I left The London Free Press, I thought it would be fun to blog. I might have been able to blog for the paper but it would have been for free. This didn't seem right. If I had been willing to work for free, Quebecor wouldn't have had to lay me off. I wasn't willing then and I'm not willing now.

    I started out on Blogger but soon noticed that the best looking sites were using WordPress; I switched. Then I realized that only Blogger offered me the chance to add ads to my blogs. Eager to sell out, I switched back to Blogger. If someone sees something that they like and they click on an ad to learn more, I get a cut of the action. Hey, this is already better than the offer from the Freeps.

    Then I discovered the Digital Journal. I told my wife I could earn as much on the Internet as she earns at her retirement part-time job. It was a bold statement. It was also wrong. I can't.

    That said, I am learning where to find stories and put together something that people will enjoy reading. And so far it is paying much better than my Adsense stuff but Adsense is still paying better than the Freeps.

    Check out my two stories from today and if you like 'em, give 'em a vote. If you don't, don't. The first one, and the art, is a handout. It is the same handout that was the source of all the stories about this VW on the net and in the papers.

    The second story is something that I worked up after seeing these black spots on maple leaves and searching the Net for answers. This story, too, was worked up in a manner very much like a true newspaper story. All that is missing is a few quotes from a local London tree specialist. If I had gotten a quote or two, the Digital Journal would pay me a bonus. They reward originality and getting out and actually developing contacts which you can then refer to in your story.


    Stolen VW bus found after 35 years






    Maple tar spot very visible this year








    Forgotten garden sculpture fetches $118,000 USD