Whac-A-Mole

She is quickly scribbling numbers on a pad of paper, eyes darting from train car to train car in search of the diamond shaped metal plate with the Materials Identification Code. Because what my eight year old understands is that, more than the danger in the air from the combustion of diesel, what rumbles continuously past our house inside of tanker cars are large quantities of toxic materials. And she wants to know what they are. Continue reading

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Travellers

It doesn’t matter how young or old you are, nine hours of driving in a car is, well, challenging. We decided instead to cut our family trip to Philadelphia in half and camp in a forest along the way. And that is when it happened. Continue reading

Sawdust

Our eight year old is holding a saw. And she is jubilant. A faint haze and the smell of fresh- cut pine hangs in the bedroom and four piles of sawdust lie on the floor like little Mayan pyramids. “We’ve finally figured out what to do with the bunk beds!” she exalts. To her right, the bunk beds sit, carefully severed, top bunk from bottom. Continue reading

Rally this Friday in Ajax!

Rally this Friday in Ajax!

My family has had the amazing good fortune of spending time with Jozsef, Timea, and Lulu (who is 6 years old). My three kids corresponded with Lulu, made the arrangements and were so joyful to play and talk together, make music (Jozsef is an amazing guitarist!), perform a magic show and hear brave stories and be inspired by strong hearts. What a gift they have given to my family.  Please take up this opportunity to learn and to lend a hand to justice and community well-being. Continue reading

Tits ‘n All: Mother’s Day, FEMEN style

“People aren’t sentences. People are stories.” David heard this at a conference and is pondering it, in a cross-eyed, exhausted kind of way, during our wee-hours catch-up, a rarely guaranteed ritual when all the kids are sleeping, the cat is fed, and tasks rendered urgent (through neglect) have miraculously been dispatched, ignored, delegated or completely forgotten. Neither of us is socializing with friends, talking to family, or addicted to technology. We are together, a preciously infrequent moment lacking the usual interruptions.

Lately I’ve been sorting out what I feel about Mother’s Day, so my mind perks up when he says this. I actually open my eyes. Cock my head to one side. Hmmm. Continue reading