by Russ Baird


I first encountered the term "blue bark" when booking a service flight.  One that I tried to get a seat on, was in "blue bark status" and not available.  Asking, I learned that use of that plane that day was related to a military funeral.  Someone had completed his life span.

No doubt, there were people in his family feeling blue.
I felt blue because I couldn't get a ride.  I've felt blue about other things, and so have enough people that I am sure Randy Bachman could devote at least three of his CBC Radio "Vinyl Tap" programmes to songs that contain the word "blue". "Got the Lonesome Blues" is a clear enough title, showing a likely cause and the idea of what blue means.  "Blue Bayou" is not so clear just from the title, which could suggest a small bay with water more blue than what one sees elsewhere. Of course, the song could show us that the writer has a secluded place where he goes when feeling down, and it happens to be a bayou.
There is a whole category of music called The Blues, and Canada has its own awards programme for blues artists, the Maple Blues, much touted on CBCs Saturday Night Blues programme by Holger Petersen.  Holger came from Germany to Edmonton and fell in love with the genre, and has had that radio programme since 1987.  A favourite cd is Oscar Peterson with Ella Fitzgerald at The Bluenote. Mississippi Delta Blues is a category, and there are many regional styles like that one. Misfortune, betrayal, and regret are major sources of feeling blue, and blues music. When the blue bark comes home at the end of a lifespan, regret is often thick and deep.
WC Handy claimed that an itinerant guitar player at the train station in Tutwiler Mississippi inspired him to become the Father of the Blues. He made Beale Street Blues in 1921, and that Memphis street is "mecca". 
St Louis Blues is not only a musical genre, but an NHL hockey team. Winnipeg's hockey team flag also is primarily blue, and that colour is in the name of its CFL team, the Blue Bombers. Bombers come out of the blue, and their arrival does not get people singing "Blue Skies" but wondering if their lifespans are about to end, except of course when they are flying home, and Winnipeg is the home of the Air Force. The football team name was however, inspired by The Brown Bomber, nickname of boxer Joe Louis. Other blue Flyers include The Blue Angels US Navy airshow and that Blue Bird of Happiness, the most popular song of the first half of the twentieth century, later surpassed by "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". 

We have blue moods, blue garments, and blue jewellery.  We even have blue suede shoes. There, the colour is bright and does not imply any sadness. Sporting a sapphire would bring joy to many.
Probably the most common colour for men's suits, is blue, and it is cheerier than the almost-as-common, gray. Blues-and-grays is the walking out dress for a soldier, when he can take off his military uniform, but still be identified with his service, likely wearing his regimental crest and buttons on it, and, at something like a blue bark event, his medals.
Eliza Sherman's hymn Blue Galilee has these words, "Upon thy waves blue Galilee, I see a barque toss restlessly", and "My Beautiful Blue Boat Home" is in the Unitarian song book. Persians honour the end of a lifespan with blue, which in the West is a colour of love, stability, confidence, faith, heaven, and intelligence. 
There are many Shades of Blue, even a tv series by that name, like another called The Blue Bloods  The "boys in blue" are the police, and a family of them are cast as the blue-blooded aristocracy of New York.  Among the shades are indigo, azure, powder, sky, teal, and baby. Ol' Blue Eyes was Frank Sinatra. True blue is a desirable item for any resume.
In the spectrum, far away from red, we have blue, violet, and ultraviolet.  Cyan gives the blue in the CMYK four colour printing system, and mixes with magenta and yellow to form the other colours. There is also a political spectrum from red to blue, ie from liberal to conservative or, some might say, magnanimous to tight-fisted.
 
The Blue Max is a 1966 movie involving a German medal, a Swiss model (Ursula Andress), George Peppard, and Baron Von Richtofen. Snoopy wore no blue when he took on The Red Baron. It was a blue day when Charles Schulz, his creator, fulfilled his life span on Feb 12, 2000. The Red Baron finished his lifespan when shot down by Canadian Lt Roy Brown on the Somme, April 21, 1918. Snoopy and the Peanuts crew all had to take the blue bark home with Schulz when he died.

"The Bluebells of Scotland" is a favourite tune, (and where indeed, has "My Highland Laddie Gone"?) Dora Jordan of Waterford Ireland wrote it in 1801, Her birth name was Dorothea Bland, which is not blue and not at all colourful. She had ten children with the English King William 1V., but they were not married, so none of them could succeed him at the end of his royal life span. Victoria, a legitimate niece, got the job.
Amethyst blue is an odd colour, one of the two colours of the Queen's Rangers, along with goddess Diana's hunter green. Before I was transferred to that regiment, I was one of those who made fun of their fuschia accoutrements, for that is how amethyst blue looks to me.
We have royal blue, of course, and steely blue, and even blues registered to and owned by certain companies.  I remember Alcan insisting that I use theirs in an ad they placed on my Montreal map.
In Canada, we had a war of the blue beers, Labatt and O'Keefe, before they all bought each other up
Blue Boy is a famous painting, and a Blue Christmas impends at the Unitarian congregation, where perhaps there will be the Elvis song, Blue Christmas
Even God, as Krishna, is often pictured blue
The Great Blue Whale and Paul Bunyan's ox, are Blue
What has become of the baseball Blue Stockings? Still in Utica, if you were missing them from the coloured footwear list of teams, Redsox, Whitesox, etc.
Are there still, occasionally, blue babies?
Lavender Blue may be an anthem as well as a colour. 

Greece, Finland, Israel,Honduras, Scotland and Quebec on their flags have blue with just white, while Sweden, Europe and Ukraine add  yellow instead of white. Half of the US states have flags on which blue dominates, Oregon, Alaska, SC and Indiana having added only white. In blue Toronto, we have the Blue Jays, the Maple Leafs (colour them blue) and the Varsity Blues. The name "Blue Toronto" arose from its blue laws, which were deemed repressive. Those date from the Third Council of Orleans  which began on May 7, 538, and were proclaimed by the Emperor.

The blue flame is a symbol of gas heating, and indicator of safe burning,  Did Bluebeard have a flaming blue angel when he drank Curacao, that island's blue liqueur?
And then there is the bluing of steel. Bluing is done on rifles, and on laundry.
On Blue Christmas, who will have The Lonesome Blues?

By Paul Pipher
 
It was with considerable interest that I watched Brett Hennig’s TED-talk last Sunday entitled WHAT IF WE REPLACED POLITICIANS WITH RANDOMLY SELECTED PEOPLE.  Mr. Hennig said that with any new ideas the details have yet to be worked out.  Here are a few suggestions that he may find useful.
 
The first is that we already have a similar system in place, the Jury Selection System that can be used almost as is.  Most of us have already had some experience with it and can imagine that putting aside our career, friends and families for an extended term will be much more rewarding if we know we can count on the privilege for 4 years.
 
The politicians of ancient Greeks were well aware of the convention ‘power corrupts’, and their leaders did their best to get as much of it as possible.  Thus it would be best for the leader of the new Sortition parliament to also be chosen by lot.  So what if they know nothing of Roberts Rules of Order.  That book is an elitist collection of false truths put together years ago for the sole purpose of getting things done.  Much better would be for each parliament to develop its own rules.  Sure, there will be much primal screaming at the beginning, but under the tried and true democratic principal that ‘the squeaky wheel gets the grease’, an organic system would surely arise.
 
Some of you might object to a group of amateurs wrestling with the technical aspects of running a country, but this too is elitist.  Rather than relying on an educated Civil Service, hired by nepotism, prone to the ‘expert’ syndrome and special interest lobbies, they could be selected at random from the population at large, again for a term of 4 years.  It’s discriminatory to say that someone with only a High School education could not learn on the job how to run the Nuclear Reactor at Chalk River, say.  Trial and error gives true feedback.  It is a wonderful fact that our country’s library system includes far more books than could possibly be read in any one person’s lifetime.  No wonder it has been called the Poor Man’s University.  And if we could encourage everyone to make better use of Libraries, we could get rid for that hotbed for upper class elites, the universities themselves.  With the amount of money that could be saved, Sortition would truly bring a ‘paradigm’ shift, reduce taxes and bring down the price of real estate in Chalk River as well.
 
Lastly, I would like to compliment those who rely for their understanding of government, and life itself, on the plenitude of TED-talks freely available.  Freely on YouTube, that is: to attend the talks in person costs $8,200 a year.  (Those wealthy enough to attend in person should be excluded from the Sortition process itself, as being patently elitist.)  But until we can get the Sortition system fully sorted out, we will have to rely on those who can explain the magic of life in 18 minutes or less, populist folks such as Juan Peron, Ferdinand Markos, Donald Trump and Pot Pol.  They knew well that anyone who thinks complicated issues need more than 18 minutes to explain, are not worth listening to themselves.

by Penny Blake

In my last blog entry I talked about some of my experiences growing up Jewish in Toronto. In this one I’ll talk about my experiences as a singer, earning money by singing as a lead or soloist for churches.
 
If you had found me at one of these jobs you may have asked, ‘what was a nice Jewish girl doing in a place like this?’, but it was a pretty established phenomenon in Toronto. The Royal Conservatory had a bulletin board at the back where jobs were posted, and my brother and I both took the opportunity to finance our expensive lessons this way – we sang at synagogues as well, of course. It was, I think both a musical and ecumenical opportunity, rounding out my experience in a practical way, and giving me a view of ‘the other’ in some very fine liberal churches.
 
It was perhaps something our parents would not have anticipated. They grew up in an era when anything but being a white Protestant was looked at askance. As Jewish immigration increased, so did old paranoias. The great depression couldn’t have helped either. Some of the ‘restrictions’ they endured must have seemed reminiscent of the Old country. Quotas in places of higher learning, difficulties with jobs, housing… etc., etc. Some other ‘new’ groups – Italians, Ukrainians, Irish -  experienced similar prejudices, as do people of colour today, and our new Muslim immigrants. One benefit - we may owe our Mt. Sinai hospitals more to the fact that Jewish interns found difficulties finding placements than to the philanthropic impulses and needs of the Jewish community.
 
But by and large, by the 60’s and 70’s these attitudes were melting away. I don’t know if we’ll ever reach the nirvana of a truly non-racist society – we’ve a ways to go yet. It may have helped that the true horrors of the Holocaust – and indeed, the war - were still fresh in people’s memories. Nazism and anti-Semitism, though not entirely gone, were finally given a bad rap. Being neo-Nazi was not cool at all.
 
What was it like for me, singing in a church? My husband would jokingly call me a mercenary, but I think I should object. My attitude in the first place was ‘take me as I am’, and I didn’t pretend to be of the faith. So places that wanted that total identity wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. And in a way that freed me to be both curious and sympathetic to the aims of the churches and the music. What counted for me was that the people I was serving were sincere, and the music had a message that transcended denomination. Fine music most always does – celebration, joy, sorrow, pride, even redemption – all those emotions or themes aren’t exclusive to Christianity. So, if you feel it, you aught to be able to sing it. I sang everything, even a Stabat Mater (Mary watching her son die on the cross – quite a wrenching scenario, thank God the music formalizes the emotion), and worked with some very fine musicians, such as pianist Clifford Poole and pianist and composer Eleanor Daly.
 
Something I also remember quite fondly was a quartet that was formed from all of the soloists at one of those churches. We sang light classics and show tunes, mostly at seniors’ residences. To this day I enjoy ensemble work just as much as, if not more than, solos. We never settled on a name for long – one was Celebration Singers – but since our leader was a fine, six foot by three foot tenor called Mac Burnham, I would have preferred the moniker ‘Big Mac Quartet.’ He wouldn’t go for it.
 
So mostly acceptance was a pretty good two-way street. I can recall one situation though where my bona fides were questioned, this by a fellow performer, not my director.
 
I was carpooling with a soprano friend to a Lutheran church in Buffalo, and one fine spring day she asked if it was OK if we stopped off somewhere first before heading home. Sure, I said, and off we went. Much to my surprise – especially since she was Catholic – we ended up at an Evangelical service, where – guess what – the topic seemed to be how it wasn’t enough to be good at heart – only true believers could be saved through ‘accepting’ Christ. That was your ticket to heaven.
 
Needless to say I was pretty upset, thinking that she had been my friend. But more to the point, this whole theology business – something that was probably general in the past, but didn’t seem to be a big deal in the churches I was used to singing in - left me cold. Judaism spent a lot more time worrying if people did Jewish things, like light candles or keep kosher – some of which I did, some not – and, in general, mitzvot. This term means, literally, commandments, but colloquially, any good deeds. I think it sums up what I most care about: be honourable, try to do good, even ‘tikun olam’ (improve the world). Then the God problem just takes care of itself. And I figured, then and now, being an alto with a good range, I’d not only get into heaven when the time came, I’d be employed in one of the many heavenly choirs. To believe in order to get into heaven, as though the Almighty could be bribed, didn’t make a lot of sense to me. No – believe because the sun shines and because you and others around you may have some goodness.
 
Here’s a cool song that expresses this better than I can: Neil Young, When God Made Me:
https://youtu.be/GNO3QaKNaBk
 
Or you might enjoy this poem, a classic by Emily Dickinson:
 
Why Do They Shut Me Out of Heaven? 
Why—do they shut Me out of Heaven?
Did I sing—too loud?
But—I can say a little 'Minor'
Timid as a Bird!

Wouldn't the Angels try me--
Just—once—more--
Just—see—if I troubled them--
But don't—shut the door!

Oh, if I—were the Gentleman
In the 'White Robe'--
And they—were the little Hand—that knocked--
Could—I—forbid?
 
https://youtu.be/_k3FKk8ahf8.
 
Modern, music by Aaron Copland – ah, anyone who can sing this … hats off to you.

by Penny Blake
​​
I’m Jewish. In Canada it’s a minority religion with a fiercely independent streak. People often wonder what we think of majority culture, and especially about holidays like Christmas – what are the differences, or similarities. If your belief system precludes Jesus as the Saviour, what exactly do you do? Do you feel left out, or do you participate, guiltily perhaps? – because really, it does look like so much fun.
 
It isn’t a one size fits all response, though. A TV special during the season implied that we all celebrated by going out for Chinese food.  Entertaining as that was, it wasn’t my experience at all, and only resulted in my non-Jewish, non-believing husband bugging me to do the same (maybe next year, hubby).
 
When I was growing up it wasn't as big a question for me. I actually lived in the heart of Jewish Toronto - non-Jews were the minority. Celebrating Chanukah, not having a tree, getting presents - but not in a big splashy way - all seemed pretty normal. There were tons of Jewish holidays in the Fall and Spring, and in my mind I divided the Christmas experience for my family into two parts. Chanukah, the holiday closest in time to Christmas, was presents and fun, with a bit of special food.

here was a small family gathering at Bubby Sue's (my grandmother’s) and all the grandkids - about 12 of us - got a small gift. My parents gave one as well. But the big family time happened in the spring, at Passover. The dining room table would have to stretch all the way through the parlour of Bubby's small bungalow for her seven children, their wives and husbands and the grandkids. We'd do the seder up proud - all in Hebrew (translations on the side). There was lots of music for both holidays, but especially at Passover you'd get to sing with the whole fam-damily – ‘ganze mishpucha’.

Well - things change. I moved away from that snug, insular world to where I was the minority statistics predicted. I married a non-Jew, and we agreed to raise the kids Jewish. One adjustment I had to make for my kids, here as true minorities, instead of in Toronto, was to help them make Chanukah a share-able, public experience. That, I admit, is harder to do in Welland than on Bathurst Street in Toronto. My son would insist that as well as coming to his classroom, telling the story, doing crafts and games, I had to make latkes (potato pancakes) for all of his classmates. Fresh. Not fried in advance & heated up. For 20 to 30 kids. Sigh. Sorry, Shira. When you came along I didn’t breathe a word of that – so you got everything except the latkes. But – it was great fun. Great for the school, the kids and me, and of course, my own kids.

Well – here I’ll have to leave off. Next time I’ll explore singing in a non-Jewish world – whadya do about your own belief system, if that is the question.

​Cheers, and Happy New Year!

By Joan Wiley

​It was just the incentive I needed — the angel lost her head.
 
For years, our holiday tree was topped by a hand-made angel. It was a lovely little thing, with tin wings, a big painted star on its wooden gown, a sweet painted face, a wire halo, and a spiral piece that attached to the tree. But as I moved forward on my own spiritual journey, the angel seemed like a bad fit. I haven’t identified as Christian for decades, and neither has the rest of the immediate family, so why were we still placing a symbol of the Christian faith on top of our tree?
 
I have the same conflict about Christmas carols this time of year. The songs evoke warm and fuzzy memories in me, but I simply can’t get behind the lyrics any more. At the same time, I object to the beautiful familiar tunes being modified with humanist lyrics. It somehow seems disrespectful to those people who are Christian.
 
Two years ago, the angel was accidently decapitated. Her noggin and neck had been clumsily glued together from an earlier mishap, so I guess it was only a matter of time before there was another separation. As I tossed the head into the garbage can, it occurred to me that people who behead angels must be condemned to an especially heavy leg anchor in the eternal lake of fire.
 
Thus began the quest for something more appropriate to top our farmed tree, something that reflected our love of nature and the interdependent web of life.
 
Last year I plopped a red, glittery cone from a dollar store on the top branches as a temporary measure. Beyond dreadful. I searched the Internet, and found a stunning verdigris leaping stag – for $65, before tax and shipping costs.
 
What about a star? During the holiday season, birch stars hang in the front windows, tin stars hang from the candle-holding chandelier in the dining room, a selection of stars lines the fireplace mantel. The stars are astronomical symbols of the solstice, the return of much-needed light during the darkest and most dreary time of the year. I do not associate them with wise men, a celestial GPS, or a virgin birth. But as with the angel, I’d rather not see it take pride of place.
 
I found what I was looking for in that most iconic of all true-north stores – Canadian Tire.
 
Perched on a shelf and protected by plastic tubes were two nature-inspired tree toppers – a squirrel and a snowy owl. I figured the world is squirrely enough without me adding to it, so I took the owl home with me. Surely the planet could use more wisdom, even if it goes no further than our family room.
 
I may have lost my own head just a little in the search for a new topper, but the owl looks like it should have been at the top of the tree all along. It satisfies our respect for the seventh Unitarian principle, and I don’t have that uneasy feeling I experienced every time I observed the angel.
 
Really, whoooo can argue with a metaphor for nature and knowledge? Thank you, angel, for becoming unglued, and congratulations on finding new life as a headless topper for my daughter’s wine bottles.