I've decided to take a new approach to my blog.
Henceforth I will write one major editorial piece on any given day rather than a myriad of small rants.
And that may not necessarily be every day. Some days, I just plain may not feel like saying anything, a day for which many will give thanks.
On the days that I publish, I'll send out the blog to the usual suspects.
On occasion, as today below, you will find a guest column.
The music videos will continue as they mysteriously tickle my fancy, or any other parts that are still working...
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The recession arrived at my door last night. And it has left me
incredibly sad. It arrived in the form of a gentle ,middle-aged woman,
tears in her eyes,who insisted I take a half bag of dog biscuits she
Here is the story.
Not far from my house is a home for unwed mothers. A quaint term, I
realize for the sophisticated, Chardonnay sipping crowd. But some
young girls, without family support, need a place out of the cold, if
they decide to have their babies. It is not a religious or
proselytizing venture. It is just a home, supported by a small
Every day, I walk my dog down the lanes of my neighbourhood and I pass
this house. A middle aged lady who is the house-mother waits every
morning, rain or shine, to give my dog a biscuit. She cooks and cleans
at the home, and baby sits the infants when the girls want a break to
do the things young girls like to do. I have always had the feeling
that giving that biscuit was the highlight of her day.
Last night, she found my house and rang the bell. She was quietly
sobbing in the rain. She whispered that she had been laid off for lack
of funds but asked me to keep the remaining dog biscuits.
Have you ever had one of those moments when you want to do 100 right
things but you just stand there?
Here in this city, our government is determined to give a tax payer
funded home to every junky, drifter and rebellious teenager they find
on the street, regardless of how culpable they may be for their own
But there is no money at Christmas for a woman who helps other women,
who nurtures underprivileged newborns, who takes money from her meagre
pay to feed a stranger's dog.
I didn't sleep well. In my comfortable house, surrounded by excess
possessions, I felt sadly diminished. And I still do today.
Posted by David Berner at 9:12 AM