The ferry had already tied up in port, an homage to the forces of nature, the depth and chill of the Salish Sea and common sense. Through the evening and the ensuing night we huddled, reading around candles, put on layers of unfashionable attire, left the fridge alone, reassured the dogs, and stoked the wood stove perhaps more often than it was necessary. Large drops of fresh rain and accumulated water from the evergreen fronds thwapped against the seaward windows at times so loud and so frequent that it became one long sound. The dense overcast eliminated any chance of other-worldly illumination, but we could hear the trees wrestling with the wind; a sharp crack signalling the some of those tussles were won by the swiftly-moving air. Mother nature culls her forest.
For Lili and me it was our darkest dark since our descent into a Saskatchewan potash mine a number of years ago. A kilometer below the surface, Land Cruisered to a circular shaft not yet being exploited, we turned off our helmet lamps. Nothing. My senses struggled to find reference points. If it weren't for the audible and quick breathing of some of our colleagues, and perhaps ourselves, there would have been nothing for sight, sound, smell, touch to record, save for the blackness. Imagine a darkness so profound and humbling that our driver joked about Japanese tourists trying to photograph it. I thought about Ray Charles ad Helen Keller. That tangible void of light and motion was present above the surface this past Monday night.
We decided to forego the generator. Having current and reasserting ourselves would have been nice, but the noise would have been an audible scar in this tableau. In these conditions, when you know you are quite safe despite the inconvenience, there's little inspiring in the sound of a machine.
Hello darkness my old friend...
Come the morning we were still without power even as the sun dominated the skyscape and the evergreens rested, silent and stock still. With a black, "GTE automatic electric" paint-spattered
rotary-dial telephone, Lili, actually dialing, set in motion the protocol alerting the island there would be no school today. Leisa and Bruce, true stewards of things Cortes, had already started the process. There was little to do except cook breakfast in the wood stove, and she did.
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| ...I've come to talk to you again |
More for the Ain't-English-Beautiful and For God's Sake, Save Your Fetid Breath segments:
I, personally... is redundant.
These ones, or those ones... are redundant.
Also, too... is not only redundant it is Palinesque in its stupidity at the start of a sentence.
These (or those) types things... is a sloppy construction that often replaces the more coherent "these things" or "things such as these."
When Kate and Mitch were here last week, the four of us had an interesting discussion about writing. Mitch is finding his voice as a writer and is interested in avoiding the language pitfalls that result in either in obfuscation or appearing uneducated. Neither Mitch nor his sister had ever learned case or number agreement, among other English fundamentals. We also spoke of professionals whose lives and reputations rest on their being precise, meticulous and efficient- engineers, for example - whose language skills are anything but. Here's an example.
This from a glaciologist at Natural Resources Canada speaking today (11/23) about the unprecedented sea ice loss in the Arctic.
"We kind of have to conclude that there's a strong chance that there's a human influence embedded in that signal."
"KIND OF" changes the very nature of his communication. We either conclude or we do not.
Teaching colleagues take note: this stuff matters. Perhaps, now more than ever, kids need to be called on their language skills. Every year, their English class(s) should make them more articulate, not less, in both the spoken and written form. Love the language.
Let's lighten it up, OK? From the police log, Salem Evening News
A man, who was reported to be intoxicated and causing a disturbance on Cabot Street, was actually not drunk and instead just had a cast on his leg as he waited for a cab at 11:13 p.m
"I HAVE A CAST ON MY LEG! I SAID I HAVE A CAST ON MY LEG!!"
Police responded to a report that on West Shore Drive, someone had "cut down trees, made stairs, built a shed and has electricity running to it" at 11 a.m.
That's a busy morning.
A Northshore Road resident told police at 12:54 p.m. that someone had likely broken into her apartment because "some knickknacks and other items have been stolen."
More criminal activity caused by the booming knickknacks black market.
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