Ziggy was rather unpopular in my apartment building. A tall very fit pre-war era German, with a brusk demeanor. There were incidents resulting in police attendance on a least one occasion to calm things down, possibly over a loud music complaint.
His apartment was on the third floor and mine on the first so he never bothered me. I was even a little sympathetic toward him, perhaps due to my experience in a recent contentious divorce.
In fact we were on slightly friendly terms. So I asked to borrow his small pickup truck to transport a scooter. At the time I was buying and selling a rv’s, cars, and scooters to supplement income. He agreed but only if he was the driver, so we did the round trip together.
Not long after that a publication appeared in my mailbox that was concerning, to say the least. It was comparable in appereance to a community newsletter, but the information was anything but, and totally conflicted with my core beliefs.
To put it bluntly it was touting what can only be described as Aryan, Nazi philosophy! Not that I was any expert on the subject, however neither was I a nieve babe in the woods.
I didn’t directly ask Ziggy if he had delivered it, however there was little doubt in my mind, for one reason, it had not been mailed, but hand delivered to my mailbox. At first I simply ignored it, but avoided any further close association with him.
Until I began to receive regular deliveries of this highly, prejudicial propaganda. They were profession printed, not just some whacky pamphlet, so at that point I decided the matter could no longer be ignored.
Although I don’t remember exactly how I approached the subject with Ziggy to cease delivering them, I do remember trying to tactful do so. However the conversation then or later took an even more surprising and concerning turn, when he cautiously suggested I should attend a meeting of his peers who shared these beliefs!
I was taken aback that he would even think of me in the same light and clearly turned him down.Free speech and press is one thing, but I was truly shocked there could be regular meetings of people adhering to such hate filled Aryan-come-Nazi doctrine, right here in Canada, even in our own backyard!
Perhaps I should have loudly condemned his invitation, however I thought better of it for several reasons. Nevertheless I did now believe I must share this information with the local RCMP office, and did so. If anything ever came of that I have no idea. I felt like I had touched on something truly foul and simply didn’t want to have anything more to do with it. End of story.
What’s it like to view the earth from outside the space station? After 9 spacewalks NASA astronaut Mike Fincke puts it this way;”…seeing the whole cosmos of creation….it’s just awe-inspiring”.* Other astronauts have this to say: “I felt very insignificant in that vastness of space,” Ms Sharman says. “Seeing Earth so clearly, the swirls of clouds and the oceans, made me think about the geopolitical boundaries that we construct and how actually we are completely interconnected.”
Ms Stott says she loved living with six people from different countries “doing this work on behalf of all life on Earth, working together, figuring out how to deal with problems”. Astronaut Kimiya Yui recently (2025) observed; “The views from the ISS are all spectacular, but the collaboration between Earth and the starry sky is simply the best,”
However, in spite of such well informed expressions, the focus since mankind has achieved ability to circle the earth in orbit, has arguably become the exploration of ‘other’ planets, besides the moon. So my question is ‘why’? Hasn’t it become abundantly obvious to all thinking people, the earth, often called ‘mother earth’* is the very special, very specific, home of mankind? Just how much scientific, factual. evidence is needed to verify this very basic, very obvious, truth?! Exploration is apparently a natural trait of humans. However as has often been said; we actually know less about what’s in deep ocean waters than we do about near space! Doesn’t that suggest the great emphasis on space exploration is a strange, even ‘unnatural’ bias for major exploration efforts? Is our insatiable appetite for plundering valued resources even being extended beyond earth now!?
(quotation) “Maybe the most amazing fact about Earth is that it’s the only planet we know that supports life at all. A lot of things had to go right for this to be possible. For one, our planet is perfectly distanced from the sun in what scientists call “the Goldilocks zone” because it’s not too hot and not too cold
The Earth is also protected from solar radiation thanks to its magnetic field, and kept warm by an insulating blanket we call the atmosphere. And most important, it has the right building blocks for life — mainly water and carbon.
Take note of this quote by ethnobotanist and anthropologist Wade Davis: “The fact that carbon dioxide combines with water, sparked by photons of light, to give us the food we eat and air we breathe – That’s the formula of life” (i.e. learning how the Kreb’s cycle converts the sugars assembled by photosynthesis into cellular energy through aerobic respiration, “was a miracle to me.”)
If we are truly curious to learn more about life, why not focus our attention on life on our wondrous, beautiful, even mysterious planet, instead of making haste to explore other planets, planets so far proven to be completely lacking in the countless features of our earth, not to mention any form of life.? * And all such efforts creating serious, if not dangerous, competition between nations no less!
If you had a house needing repairs, but it was still fundamentally sound, would you simply ignore it to pursue some other far less attractive place in a hostile neighborhood? No, the logic of space exploration, as stimulating as that may be for us it simply does not meet the litmus test of sanity! But then what grandiose human activity ever has? E.g. consider the ongoing environmental damage caused by the industrial revolution with all its now known attendant detrimental consequences to the environment, not to mention damage resulting from the ‘nuclear age’, or as yet untold harmful consequences from the computer age!
Isn’t it crystal clear by now all mankind is, and has been, complicit in destroying planet Earth whether knowingly or unknowingly?
Yet there is a genuine hope for the future, not by the hands of mankind, rather in spite of mankind! Indeed the Creator of this beautiful ‘blue marble’ well knows how to restore his perfect creation, to remove any and all who are exploiting or causing shameful environmental damage!
* * Note: “…his invisible qualities are clearly seen from the world’s creation onward, because they are perceived by the things made, even his eternal power and Godship,..” (Romans 1:20)
* Indeed the euphemism ‘mother earth‘ may be quite apropos’ given all components of the human body are most likely only found on earth – including 60% water. This begs the question; ‘Who is the Father of the Earth?’ The one who used those components to create all the awesome and complex life forms from those components! Think about it!
* “…Mars is effectively one big desert.” (the words of Professor Rabinovich, Stevens Institute of Technology in New Jersey. In our Creators’ own reliable prophetic words: * “….look! I am creating new heavens and a new earth; And the former things will not be called to mind….” (Isaiah 65:17) …”and to bring to ruin those ruining the earth.” (Revelation 11:18) Thanks for viewing!
My comment: ‘The Book of life’
“Earth is a book, our Mother indeed, chapters are seasons, timely to read. Plans for all life, real pages to turn. Cover to cover, lessons to learn. Noble blue marble, a world in decline, soon to be fixed by He who designed!”
Recent airplane ownership of a Piper tri-pacer afforded me the opportunity to invite some local neighbors along with family to explore one of our BC coastal gems.
With picnic lunches and eager families we took off and landed in less than 30 minutes on one of the small pristine Gulf Islands * just South of Nanaimo.
It was uninhabited in those days, the 70’s, with a cleared grass center right down the middle about 2500′ from shoreline to shoreline, a little rough but perfectly ok for my venerable ‘milking stool’ Piper, so nick-named due to its high landing gear.
It took a couple of flights to transport all of us from my Butler-Howroyd home airfield in North Saanich, but worth it. Kids fished off rocks at the Southern end, and we all enjoyed the brief outing away from city life.
When time came for a return flight, I found the battery weak on my yellow bird. Spinning the prop by hand to start the engine now became necessary. With throttle and brake set, I cranked until nearly exhausted without result! Likely a flooded fuel issue. Spinning the prop in reverse finally cleared it, and thankfully the faithful Lycoming engine roared to life. I’m not sure what we could have done if it hadn’t started!
Two round trips and a day on a tiny gulf island. It was a memorable experience for us all.
* Hudson Island, named after the Hudson’s Bay Company, (31 Acre Island) next to much larger Thetis Island.
Here is a slightly edited version and PLEASE NOTE: HORRIFIC DOCUMENTED CASES OF CHILD ABUSE IN THE ORIGINAL ARTICLE ARE NOT INCLUDED IN THIS REPRINT.
By secular standards, the Catholic Church is a corrupt organization and
Federal authorities should treat it like one!
Neil Macdonald · CBC News · Posted: Aug 26, 2018 4:00 AM ET | Last Updated: August 26, 2018
WARNING: This column contains disturbing details
Imagine for a moment that a big, admired multinational corporation, one selling a beloved product, was employing large numbers of male pedophiles and rapists, operating in rings all over the world, and that their crimes had been uncovered in Australia, Ireland, Canada, the Philippines, Belgium, France, Austria, New Zealand, Argentina, Chile, Britain, Germany and the United States, and, further, that senior executives had systematically covered up and suppressed evidence, transferring and enabling hundreds of predators, betraying thousands of victims.
What would happen to the company is not terribly difficult to imagine.
At a minimum, the U.S. government would likely use its Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) law to go after not only the rapists and molesters, but also the company’s executives, up to and including its CEO if possible, seizing the company’s assets and seeking the harshest possible prison terms. That’s the sort of thing RICO was invented for. The company would almost certainly collapse. But of course no company’s warranty guarantees everlasting life, and no company maintains that its CEO is chosen by God.
Grand jury report: (continued) The Roman Catholic church does, which is the only explanation for why, after the release of a grand jury report that detailed more than 1,000 cases of sexual abuse in Pennsylvania over several decades by more than 300 predators in clerical collars, many of whom are still alive, millions of American Catholics continued to attend mass.
(DISGUSTING GRAPHIC DOCUMENTED CASES ARE DELETED FROM THIS REPRINTING HERE)
‘We showed no care for the little ones’: Pope’s letter vows to end sex abuse, coverups
Pennsylvania’s attorney general, Josh Shapiro, told reporters last week that high church officials “routinely and purposefully described the abuse as ‘horseplay’ and ‘wrestling,'” choosing to transfer the pedophiles to other congregations (where they’d have a whole new selection of horseplay partners), or send them away for prayerful reflection before returning to duty.
Unfortunately, though, Shapiro said, the statute of limitations has run out in most of the cases, or the priests involved had died. Pity, Shapiro was implying, because if they could, authorities would vigorously pursue and prosecute and imprison not only the perpetrators, but their enablers and protectors. Or not. Actually, probably not. Inevitably, that scale of prosecution – we are talking about inflicting severe damage to the Catholic Church in the United States – would require steadfast political will, and seriously, what politician seeking re-election wants to alienate 24 per cent of Americans, many of whom, despite clear evidence of the church’s moral rot, insist on believing it is infallible? Pope Francis released an open letter to the world’s Catholics after the Pennsylvania revelations, basically repeating the company line. (Alessandra Tarantino/Associated Press)
The same goes elsewhere. Revelations of horrors in all the above-mentioned Western countries (here in Canada, there was documented abuse in Quebec, British Columbia, Ontario, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, where the church’s Mount Cashel orphanage was operated as sort of a prison for child sex slavesresulted in dismissals of some church officials, some lawsuits and a handful of criminal convictions, but not much more than that.)
Each time, the Pope or one of his high subalterns would lament human frailty, and drone on about the sacred duty to protect the most vulnerable, while privately fighting to thwart civil suits or conspiring to keep facts from investigating authorities.
Pope Francis, who enjoys the most saintly reputation of any recent pope (except for John Paul II, who was actually made a saint, despite all the ugly revelations on his watch) released an open letter to the world’s Catholics after the Pennsylvania revelations, basically repeating the company line: gosh, sorry, that was terrible, we must do better, God bless you all, go in peace.
Noting first that “most of these cases belong to the past,” (don’t all cases belong to the past?) the Pope banged on for 2,000 words about feeling the pain of the vulnerable, and the necessity of ensuring it doesn’t happen again (and again and again and again), but his central theme was expressed right off the top in a line from Corinthians: “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it.”
Yes. Of course. Let’s compare the spiritual suffering the Pope claims the revelations have caused him to that of a child being sodomized by an adult stalker in a clerical collar, a monster the boy probably doesn’t think he’s even allowed to complain about.
Resisting change
The right thing for the Pope to do would be to waive his sovereign privilege (he is a sitting head of state), and invite criminal authorities to freely and fully access church records worldwide, and drain the holy swamp. He might also consider at this stage ordaining women, because women are God’s creatures too, perfectly able to spiritually guide the faithful, and, umm, don’t tend to rape children.
But the privileged old men who run the church aren’t going to allow any of that. They’re a bit like gun control opponents, opposing an obvious solution on doctrinaire grounds.
There actually have been a few attempts to use the RICO statute against priests, notably in Cleveland, but jurors did not convict
When former Oklahoma governor and former federal prosecutor Frank Keating, a practicing Catholic, compared the church’s obsession with secrecy to the Mafia’s, Cardinal Roger Mahony of Los Angeles demanded his ouster from a church board examining clerical abuse. Keating resigned from the panel.
Mahony, who covered up sexual abuse by priests in California, according to church records, retired peacefully at age 75. Only after a court order compelled the Los Angeles archdiocese to open its files on abuse was Mahony gently rebuked by the church.
The National (news cast)
Pope Francis condemns priestly sexual abuse.
Pope Francis condemned priestly sexual abuse and its cover-up by the Catholic Church, in a public letter. In addition to demanding accountability, Francis begged forgiveness for the pain suffered by victims and said Catholics must be involved in any effort to root out abuse.
By any secular standard, the Catholic Church is a corrupt organization. It in fact sets the standard for impunity.
Cardinal Bernard Law, who presided over the coverup of the church’s famous Boston sex abuse scandals, was plucked and brought to Rome by Pope John Paul II, where he resided until he died at the Vatican, beyond the reach of American prosecutors.
Earlier this year, after Bishop Juan Barros of Chile was accused of covering up clerical abuse, Pope Francis denounced the accusers’ “calumny.” When it turned out that there was merit to the accusations, and that the Vatican had been informed of the problem, Francis claimed he’d been misinformed. A few weeks later, all 34 of Chile’s bishops tendered their resignations. Francis eventually accepted three of them.
And now, Catholic activist Susan Reynolds has gathered thousands of signatures on a letter demanding the resignation of all American bishops. It would be the right thing to do, but at a guess, the very notion amuses America’s bishopry, comfortable in their armour of piety.
RICO, aggressively deployed by federal prosecutors using wiretaps, search warrants and informants, would be far more effective. They can’t all flee to Rome.
This column is part of CBC’s Opinion section. For more information about this section, please read this editor’s blog and our FAQ.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Neil Macdonald
Opinion Columnist
Neil Macdonald is an opinion columnist for CBC News, based in Ottawa. Prior to that he was the CBC’s Washington correspondent for 12 years, and before that he spent five years reporting from the Middle East. He also had a previous career in newspapers, and speaks English and French fluently, and some Arabic.
More by Neil Macdonald
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Of all the jobs, and there were many, I’ve had over the decades, perhaps the most interesting was as a Commissionaire. For those under the age of 60 in particular, the Royal Canadian Corp of Commissionaires is an association of mostly former armed forces service personnel, hired to perform contracted security work across Canada.As a new member, after being the only person to ever ‘ace’ the obligatory government Security course, my first assignment was as a White Rock by-law Enforcement Officer.
Although as mentioned it was a contract job, we felt like we were part of the White Rock city team, in full cooperation with the local RCMP detachment (sorry about all those parking tickets I wrote :-).
I was also assigned as a gate keeper at a large brewery; and at a CNR container shipping yard; mail sorter and deliverer in the mail room of a high rise office tower in downtown Vancouver, and so on.
Indeed the sites were many and varied.But the most interesting job site assignment for me was at the OCA (Organized Crime Agency). I can discuss this because their name has been changed (but not their purpose) and they are now located in a new multi-million dollar Surrey RCMP headquarters building.
But at the time I was assigned, it was located in an unmarked converted industrial building on Annacis Island. Commissionaires like me controlled all entree and exits by remote control. We also monitored multi external cameras, even passing traffic was recorded. Of course all personnel had to use magnetic access cards.
Night shifts could be rather eerie, literally a hundred or more humming computers on several floors with few personnel were our primary companions. (Speaking of that, (ahem), I received a commendation from the Commandant for suggesting computers could be safely shutdown each night to save electricity.)
At one time a particular disturbing responsibility was when Robert Picton mass murder evidence was kept in a locked trailer on the property. We had to regularly check on it, preserved for subsequent court actions during the night shifts.
I also had some separate employment with the OCA apart from Commissionaires, but its probably not appropriate to publish details about that, even though its just tech history now. Suffice to say it was a one of a kind unique experience to be associated with major organized crime-fighters.
Tim Burton has never directed a movie like this and so a lot of people are looking forward to seeing what’s been done.
My Life as a Famous Artist:
You may have seen a painting of a wistful child with unusually large and sad-looking eyes. Quite likely, it was one I painted. Sad to say, I was as unhappy as the children I painted.
I grew up in the southern part of the United States in the region often referred to as the “Bible Belt.” Perhaps it was this environment, or my Methodist grandmother, that instilled in me a deep respect for the Bible, although I knew very little about it. I grew up believing in God, but with a lot of unanswered questions.
As a sickly child, often alone and very shy, I developed an early talent for drawing. An inquisitive nature led me to wonder about the purpose of life, why we are here, why there are pain, sorrow and death, and if God is good. Always “Why?”
These questions, I believe, were later reflected in the eyes of my paintings of children and, in part, account for their worldwide appeal. The eyes, always the focal point, were often described as “soulful.” They seemed to reflect the spiritual alienation of most people today—their longing for something beyond what this system offers.
My road to popularity in the art world was a rocky one. There were two wrecked marriages and much mental anguish along the way. Controversies surrounding my private life and the authorship of my paintings resulted in international wire stories, lawsuits, front-page pictures and even headlines. For many years I had allowed my second husband to take credit for my paintings. But one day, unable to continue the deception any longer, I left him and my home in California and moved to Hawaii.
After a period of depression and very little painting, I began trying to rebuild my life and later married again.
One turning point came in 1970 when a newspaper reporter arranged a televised “paint-out” between me and my former husband, to be held in San Francisco’s Union Square to establish the authorship of the paintings. I was the only one to show up and accept the challenge. Life magazine covered this event in an article that corrected a previous erroneous story that attributed the paintings to my former husband.
My part in the deception had lasted for twelve years and is one that I will always regret. However, it taught me the value of being truthful and that neither fame, love, money nor anything else is worth a bad conscience.
I still had questions about life and God and they led me to search in strange and dangerous places for answers. I investigated the occult, astrology, palmistry, and even handwriting analysis, looking for answers. My love for art led me to investigate many ancient cultures and their philosophies, which were reflected in their art. I read volumes on Eastern philosophy, and even tried transcendental meditation.
My spiritual hunger led me to look into the various religious beliefs of people who came into my life. On both sides of my family and among my friends I came in contact with various Protestant religions besides that of the Methodists, including those of Christian Scientists, Mormons, Lutherans and Unitarians. When I married my present husband, a Catholic, I seriously investigated that religion. I still found no satisfactory answers—always there were contradictions—and always there was something missing.
With this exception (not having answers to life’s important questions), my life had finally started straightening out. I had achieved just about everything I ever wanted. Most of my time was being spent in doing what I loved to do best—painting children (mostly little girls) with the big eyes. I had a wonderful husband and a fine marriage, a lovely daughter and financial security, and I lived in my favorite spot on earth—Hawaii. But at times I wondered why I was not completely satisfied, why I smoked so much and occasionally drank too much and why I was so tense. I did not realize how self-centered my life had become in my pursuit of personal happiness.
The Unexpected Change
Jehovah’s witnesses came often, every couple of weeks, to my door, but I rarely took their literature or paid much attention to them. Little did I realize that in due time one knock on my door would drastically change my life. That particular morning two Oriental women, one Chinese and the other Japanese, appeared on my doorstep. Sometime prior to their coming, my daughter had shown me an article about the sabbath being Saturday, not Sunday, and about the importance of observing it. It had made such an impression on both of us that we started attending the Seventh-day Adventist Church. I had even stopped painting on Saturday, thinking it was a sin to do so. So when I asked one of these women at my door which day was the sabbath, I was surprised that she answered “Saturday.” So I asked, “Why don’t you observe it?”
Ironic, wasn’t it, that I, a Caucasian, raised in the “Bible Belt,” should be seeking information from two Orientals who were probably reared in a non-Christian environment?
She opened a well-worn Bible and read directly out of it scriptures that explained why Christians no longer are required to observe the sabbath or the various other features of the Mosaic law, why the sabbath law was given, and about the future Sabbath of 1,000 years.
Her knowledge of the Bible impressed me so deeply that I wanted to look further into the Bible for myself. I gladly accepted the book The Truth That Leads to Eternal Life, which she said would explain the basic doctrines of the Bible. The next week when the women returned, my daughter and I began studying the Bible regularly. It was one of the most important decisions of my life and led to dramatic changes in the lives of both of us.
In this study of the Bible my first and biggest hurdle was the Trinity. Since I believed that Jesus was God, part of a Trinity, having that belief suddenly challenged was like having a rug pulled out from under my feet. It was frightening. Because my belief could not hold up in the light of what I was reading in the Bible, I suddenly felt a deeper lonlyness than I had ever experienced before. I did not know whom to pray to and was besieged with doubts, even about there being a God at all.
Holding Back
Gradually I was convinced from the Bible that the Almighty God is Jehovah, the Father (not the Son), and as I studied I began to rebuild my shattered faith, this time on the true foundation. But as my knowledge and faith began to grow, pressures began to mount. My husband threatened to leave me, and other close family members were extremely upset. As I began to see the requirements of being a true Christian, I looked for a way out because I did not think I could ever witness to strangers or go from door to door to talk to others about God.
My daughter, who was now studying in a nearby town, was progressing much faster. Her progress, in fact, became another obstacle to me. She believed so completely in what she was learning that she wanted to work toward becoming a missionary. Visions of my only child in a far-off country frightened me, and I decided that I must protect her from doing something so drastic. So I began to search for a flaw. I felt that if I could find something this organization was teaching that was not backed up by the Bible I could convince my daughter.
With my knack for details the search was thorough. I ended up acquiring over ten different translations of the Bible, three concordances and many other Bible dictionaries and reference books to supplement books from the library. I received a strange “help” from my husband, who often brought home books and booklets that were derogatory to the Witnesses. I pored over them, carefully weighing everything they said. But I never found the flaw.
Instead, the falsity of the Trinity doctrine, as well as the fact that the Witnesses know and make known the name of the Father, the true God, also their love for one another and their strict adherence to the Scriptures, convinced me that I had found the true religion. I could not help but be deeply impressed by the contrast between Jehovah’s witnesses and the other religions on the matter of finances.
In time, my daughter and I were baptized, together with about forty others, on August 5, 1972, in the beautiful blue Pacific Ocean—a day I will never forget. She has now moved back home so she can devote her full time to service as a Witness here in Hawaii. My husband is still with us and even marvels at the changes in both of us.
From Sad Eyes to Bright Eyes
Since my dedicating my life to Jehovah, there have been many changes in my life. One of the first was that I stopped smoking. I actually lost the desire and the need. This was a habit of twenty-two years, averaging a pack or more a day. I had tried desperately to break the habit because I knew it was harmful but had found it impossible. As my faith grew, the scripture at 2 Corinthians 7:1 proved to be the more powerful incentive. With the help of Jehovah through prayer and my believing his promise at Malachi 3:10, the habit was finally and completely broken. Amazingly, I had no withdrawal symptoms or any discomfort!
Other changes were deep psychological transformations in my personality. From a very shy, insecure, introverted and self-absorbed person who sought and needed long hours of solitude in which to paint and relax from my tensions, I became a much more gregarious, outgoing person. I now find myself spending many hours doing what I used to hate to do—talking to people—and loving every minute of it!
Another change has been that I spend only about a fourth of the time I formerly spent painting, and yet, amazingly, I accomplish almost the same amount of work. Too, sales and comments indicate that the paintings are getting even better. Painting used to be almost an obsession with me. I was driven to paint because it was my therapy, escape and relaxation—my life completely revolved around it. I still enjoy it immensely, but the addiction to it and dependency on it are gone. Since my growing in knowledge of Jehovah, the Source of all creativity, it is no wonder that the quality of my paintings has increased as the time of execution has decreased.
Now most of my former painting time is spent in God’s service, studying the Bible, teaching others and attending the five Bible study meetings at the Kingdom Hall each week. During the past two and a half years, eighteen people have started studying the Bible with me. Eight of these persons are now actively studying, one is ready to be baptized, and another has been baptized. From among their families and friends, thirteen more started studying with other Witnesses. It has been a great joy and privilege to have a part in helping others to come to know Jehovah.
It was not easy in the beginning to give up any of my cherished solitude, my own routine of life and a lot of my painting time, and put Jehovah’s will first, before anything else. But I was willing to try and, through prayer and relying on Jehovah’s help, I found that every step of the way was made easier and was rewarded. Proof of his approval and help almost overwhelmed me—not only in spiritual blessings but in many material ones as well.
As I look back on my life, my first oil painting, done when I was about eleven years old, now seems quite significant. It was two versions of the same little girl—the one in the background was sad, with tears in her eyes; the one in the foreground had bright smiling eyes. In the past, the symbolic large, sad eyes I painted mirrored the puzzling contradictions I saw in the world around me, and which raised in me so many questions. Now I have found in the Bible the reasons for the contradictions about life that once tormented me, as well as the answers to my questions.
After my gaining accurate knowledge of God and his purpose for mankind, it led me to the real security of having God’s approval and the inner peace and happiness that go with it. This is being reflected in my paintings to a degree that others even detect it. The sad, lost look of the large eyes is giving way now to a happier look. My husband even named one of my recent happy big-eyed children “The Eye Witness”!—Contributed.
I left rather late in one afternoon and flew directly from Victoria airport over Georgia Straight and coastal mountains to the 108 airstrip. It was (is?) an excellent paved strip capable of handling larger airplanes as intended. However as the sun set I was amazed at the total absence of anyone in the vicinity, including a nearby store and golf course!? In fact even while I spent the night under the stars in a sleeping bag right on the golf course, yet I never saw a single person! To this day that is puzzling.
It was intended only as a quick educational trip to 108 ranch resort 300 miles from Vancouver B.C. Block Bros. Realty a well known Vancouver real estate firm beginning in 1960’s Vancouver, had sponsored, and financed this recreation retreat. In spite of considerable investment and promotion it never succeeded as hoped for several reasons. For more information on this project go here: http://108 Ranch Resort by Block Bros. Realty
Despite the reasons for its eventual failure, including driving distance from Vancouver, Henry Block * had developed notable features, 18-hole PGA golf course, clubhouse, swimming pool, restaurant and lounge, and a 20-room lodge, which were completed by 1972, to encourage investors.
I was very intrigued by it as a youthful Realtor in Vancouver. So sometime after acquiring my pilot’s license, and airplane, I decided to take a quick trip from my Victoria base to take a look at it.
In any case the next day, perhaps because of some disappointment at the 108, I decided to fly South before returning home. As I did I noticed a small airstrip next to Green Lake and decided to land and have a look. It was a very dry dusty landing, but just across the road there was a ‘dude ranch’* where a family from the lower mainland was vacationing that welcomed me! Somewhat overwhelmed by their hospitality, I ended up joining an evening around open camp fire, but not before a trail ride that was an experience of a lifetime in the afternoon! See this great video on the Flying U Ranch!: * * * Flying U dude ranch
With very limited ‘horse sense’, I was invited to join the family galloping (and I do mean full speed) through a forested area you could hardly call a trail! I hung on for dear life as small trees and bush brushed my legs and threatened to rip me off my steed, it really was the experience of a lifetime!
Afterward we drank some beers around a large and hospitable camp fire under a starry night. I could not believe how fortunate I was, and only wish I had my own family with me there. Once again I slept in my sleeping bag out in the open under an awesome Caribou sky as can only be fully seen far away from city lights.
The next morning I took off early in a huge cloud of fine dust from the short dirt airstrip, and after doing a low pass or two over the ranch, headed South to Vernon. At an airstrip shop there I found partners who had sold me a Mooney airplane previously. As fellow pilots, typically, they gave me the keys to a vehicle in order to briefly spend a few sunny moments on a lakeside beach! However, it was past time to head home and I did so that afternoon.
Only less than a two day experience, but as memorable as ever can be for me!
From deep within her bowels came a foreboding, muffled, BrrruuUMMPUMPP!
Like a wounded beast with its belly ripped open, the pride of B.C. Ferries ‘Queen of Prince Rupert’s’ fate was sealed. Thirty-five hundred tons momentum rammed her onto Haddington Reef, fifty miles from the Northern tip of Vancouver Island.
Moments earlier, throbbing engine vibration masked the quick rise and fall of our ship’s deck underfoot. Always in tune with his ship, Captain Callan sensed the aberration even in his sleep. Sitting bolt‑upright in his elevated Captain’s chair, he pushed off the armrests and reached the central bridge console in two strides. Grasping large twin aluminum control handles, he arcing them back ninety-degrees against stiff hydraulic pressure, neutralizing forward thrust. Another ninety degree arc forced nine meter (30′) stainless steel props into full reverse pitch!
Five decks below, engine machinery thrashed wildly. Our ninety-nine metre (325′) ship shuddered and bucked like a startled mare!
It was ‘too little, too late’. As quickly as it had begun, all ships’ movements abruptly ceased. Suddenly it was eerily quiet!
For early rising passengers strolling the passenger deck, the braking force felt much like a sudden stop in heavy city traffic. Only minor injuries were reported.
It was just after 0600 hours (six a.m.) Saturday, August 12th 1967.
Most passengers and crew were aroused from sleep by the abrupt silence of diesel engines and cessation of motion. Many were in small, overnight cabin berths.
Back on the bridge, the Captain bowed his head momentarily, as if experiencing actual physical pain. He suddenly looked much smaller than his tall, lanky, middle-aged Anglo Saxon frame.“That’s it. . .” He stated stoically through clenched teeth, to no one in particular; “We’re on it.”
Struggling to comprehend the meaning of his words, my mind raced back recalling recent events. We had departed Prince Rupert, B.C. in mid-afternoon on our regular Southbound summer schedule, with nearly a full load of passengers and vehicles. To maintain the twenty hour one-way schedule, we sliced through a thick summer fog at normal cruising speed of almost eighteen knots (about 20 m.p.h.). In such fog conditions, navigation fully depends on ships’ radar and well-defined charts, much like an airliner flying solely on instruments. Only a few minutes had passed since a three-man bridge crew began their six-hour ‘morning watch.’ I was one of two relieving Quartermasters, a.k.a. Helmsman.
Captain Callan was present on the bridge also. His concern for safety in heavy fog conditions had kept him up most of the night, backing up the watch keepers. (Ironically, some speculate that Captains presence on the bridge ‘contributed’ to the accident owing to an unconscious reliance on his support.)
My own responsibility for that first hour on watch was to assume a fog ‘lookout’ position on the port side of the wheelhouse (bridge), and to alternate on the helm with the other quartermaster hourly. On the wheel, we steered a course ordered by the Watch Officer.
Pre-dawn morning coffee was just beginning to kick in for crew, while the Captain was now understandably dozing in his traditional oak chair on the Starboard side of the bridge. As we headed for our home port of Kelsey Bay on Vancouver Island, first light was just beginning to filter through the surrounding cotton-like fog and gloom. It was like floating in a big wet cloud. Fog ‘lookout’ is an oxymoron since the only thing actually visible was our bow wave some eighty feet below the bridge lookout position. With the port wheelhouse window open, I listened intently for horns or whistles. The idea being to try to detect any small boats that may have escaped radar detection. It was difficult to hear anything over waves of throbbing vibration from our twin diesel engines. Boring through that soggy, porridge‑like coastal fog at full normal cruise speed was normal routine in mid-August.
Wiping freezing condensation from my eyebrows, I zipped up a heavy seaman’s jacket. For his part, the Officer of the Watch had seemed to confirm our ships’ precise location by checking both short and long range radar screens. He peered down into their cone shaped hoods for several moments as soon as he had assumed the ‘con’ as officer of the watch.
The ship’s position, course, and speed, became his exclusive responsibility when bridge control was turned over to him. This was true even with Captain present, (unless the Skipper assumed that role by clearly stating he was “taking the con”).
Steering between B.C.’s many coastal islands and the mainland requires skillful multi-course adjustments on the ‘Inside Passage’ route. Fjord-like passages such as the fifty-mile long Grenville Channel near Prince Rupert are narrow for a ship the size of ours. Observing ‘rules of the road’ with a mixture of other marine traffic, large or small, is always vital.
Clearly it was the deck officer who bore the burden for any navigational errors. Regardless, as soon as we struck the reef, I too felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach!
Just before we struck the reef, I observed kelp vegetation on the surface of the water, passing down the port side. However, since this was only my second two-week tour of duty on the Prince Rupert run, I quietly asked my senior (Quartermaster) partner if that should be reported. Fatefully, he shook his head, dismissing it as trivial information. Apparently kelp can in fact grow and/or appear anywhere in coastal waters, however in hindsight, it was my concern that it may have been an indication we were already off course.
At that precise moment all else seemed perfectly normal because we were blinded by the fog. The Watch Officer, after checking radar, had stepped into the radio shack, aft of the bridge, in order to review weather forecasts.
He was chatting with the Radio Officer when we first grazed the rocks.
Shock, mixed with some feelings of guilt, at first numbed this young husband and father. Thank God, facts would soon reveal that a last minute change of course could have led to an even more tragic consequence, perhaps even a ‘Titanic-like’ disaster, rather than prevention!
Regardless, in one brief moment, two hundred and ninety-nine passengers and several dozen crew members were forced to accept a new reality; we were now dead-center in a serious maritime accident. In fact we were all just catching up to what the Captain had instantly realized; our ship’s hull was seriously damaged and held by a submerged rocky reef or shoal.* He quickly blew our ships loud horn 6 or more times as per marine emergency procedure, and ordered the ships’ radio officer to broadcast; ‘pan pan pan’ then international distress signal!
When fog later cleared, the ship was within sight of First Nations fishing community Alert Bay, on Cormorant Island, just a few miles away!
In the eerie silence following the grounding, Captain Callan only sagged for a moment. Then with British ‘stiff upper lip’ grit he quickly regained his composure, taking charge of himself and his crew. Immediately after sounded the ships horn 6 or more times he ordered the evacuation of all passengers and most crew members! There was no way of knowing if we would remain on the reef, or even capsize as the tide went out! It soon became clear that all crew members’ drew needed strength and courage from the Captains calm display of authority.
As chance would have it, my emergency station assignment was designated ‘bridge messenger’ allowing me to personally witness unfolding events on the bridge, right alongside the Skipper. If other means of communication failed, my job was to relay messages and instructions throughout the ship, including the engine room crew if necessary.
Below the car deck level, matters quickly became critical. Engine room engineers and oiler assistants were shocked to see their beloved twin-diesel engines literally bounce up and down half a meter (19″) when we first hit the rocky sea bottom. Then machinery had nearly flown apart as the Captain hurriedly reversed prop pitch.
That was enough to put the fear of God in them, but now sea water began flooding into fuel tanks and engine room spaces. They only needed to be told once to shut down whatever they could and evacuate up steel ladders to the car deck.
Meanwhile, on the upper decks, catering staff, making up the majority of total crew members aboard, took care of frightened, rudely awakened passengers by directing them to lifeboats, and life-rafts. The seamen deck crew also went to their assigned emergency evacuation stations.
Those seaman (deckhands) took charge of loading and launching our four, fifty-two-person, fiberglass lifeboats, and many life rafts. Carefully they lowered passengers down to water level and cleared the ship.
All crew members did their jobs well in this hour of test. In only ninety minutes all passengers had evacuated the ship and safely arrived in Alert Bay or were en route there. Many passengers were transported by helpful Alert Bay fish boats. These had quickly responded to our emergency radio calls, or the ship’s whistle, cautiously maneuvering through fog banks to locate and assist us.
Those local fish boats also towed some of the lifeboats and life-rafts to Alert Bay dock, tied together chain-like so they wouldn’t get lost in the fog. Less fortunate boats were rowed with oars manned by ship’s crew members, or slightly bemused passengers!
Despite the fog, or perhaps because of it, there were few signs of panic. Of course there was little sense of abandoning a ‘sinking ship,’ since the flagship of B.C. Ferries fleet was solidly grounded, showing no signs of leaving her perch anytime soon. Few passengers realized how close we had come to a real tragedy.
Gratefully, I now understood that a last minute attempt to alter course, if caused by my reporting kelp on the surface, would not have avoided our grounding. In fact, any emergency turn or action might well have created an even more serious disaster!. Rather than coming to firm halt, crosswise on top of Hadington reef, we could easily have gone to the bottom, in minutes by a more glancing bottom strike, with the loss of many lives!
As it happened, the only injuries were a few bumps and bruises when we came to a sudden stop.
As fog burned off in early afternoon sunshine, passengers and crew joined local onlookers in amazement at the strange sight. The receding four and one-half metre (15′) northern tide now created the optical illusion the Queen of Prince Rupert was rising out of the water.
(thick bunker ‘C’ oil is visible below high tide line, also covered life boats. Firmly held by the reef, while surrounding tidal water dropped, gave the impression a giant undersea creature was raising her on its back. News reporters soon arrived in float planes, circling the unique sight, camera’s clicking as fog banks lifted. At maximum low tide the ship’s water line was more than two meters below normal.
Very fortunately the ship remained nearly level with no apparent threat of capsizing despite her ungainly appearance. Sludge-like ‘bunker c’ fuel oil leaking from her punctured hull was clinging to the sides, completing the sad picture – a picture soon to be published around the globe.
Over the next twelve hours, tidal action continued to carry oil and sea water in and out of lower decks, including crews’ quarters, engine room machinery spaces and mixing with surrounding kelp beds. It was a minor ecological disaster and not a pretty sight!
With passengers safely ashore, a salvage plan was soon put into action. Professional scuba divers arrived on the scene to survey the hull damage and quickly located a number of gashes and punctures. Fiberglass insulation bats were packed into two of the largest holes, eleven meters (36′) and three and one-half meters (11′) each, by fifteen centimeters (6″) wide, located near the keel.
With incoming sea water somewhat abated, powerful high capacity pumps brought alongside on a barge began extracting tons of sea water, reducing it to a manageable volume. To further lighten her load, forty cars were cautiously driven off across timber planks onto a barge, a dangerous job accomplished by volunteers, mostly from crew members.
Ocean going Island Tug and Barge Company towboats arrived on the scene the next day. Just before high tide at 1900 hours (seven p.m.), with other boats acting as stabilizers, they tried, but at first failed, to re-float the stricken ferry. Finally, but after several attempts, the white, blue, and oil streaked Queen of Prince Rupert quietly and gracefully slid off the rocks, her dignity only slightly restored.
Everyone now held their collective breath to see if she would remain afloat! Straining pumps maintained the status quo against the incoming sea water.
With another forty-seven cars, trucks, and recreation vehicles still chained to the car deck, the ship was towed across Broughton Straight to Vancouver Island, dead slow, to preserve those temporary patches. Achoring in the safety of shallow waters off Port Hardy for 24 hours, an emotionally drained skeleton crew ‘diligently’ monitored water volume throughout the night. Divers reinforced the temporary patches. In the morning with everything appearing stable, it was decided to attempt a risky, thirty-six-hour slow-tow to Burrard Dry dock in North Vancouver.
While en route, we anchored for a few hours in Nanoose Bay on Southern Vancouver Island after water pumps quit owing to contaminated fuel. A decision was made to off-load the remaining passenger vehicles, and reunite them with anxious owners waiting on shore. Again using wooden planks for ramps, vehicles were ‘tipsily’ transferred to a barge and taken ashore.
With generators off-line, the normally air conditioned ship became like a floating sauna in August heat. Those of us acting as a skeleton crew had to sweat it out all the way to the destination port. Numerous curious boaters circled our lifeless vessel as we traveled down Georgia Straight between Vancouver Island and the mainland. Finally we passed under scenic Lions Gate bridge and entered Vancouver Harbor. Many local residents turned out to watch our passage as radio stations broadcast regular progress reports.
The good news! Many passengers, mostly Americans, involved in the accident actually spoke highly of their experience. Not only had serious hardship been almost miraculously averted by the solid grounding, but residents of Alert Bay proved to be gracious hosts during their brief stay there.While they had waited for transportation to Vancouver Island, passengers were temporarily ‘bivouacked’ on cots in the Alert Bay (Indian) school, were entertained by traditional native dance, and served a ‘potlatch’ salmon dinner. For tourist passengers, this turned out to be a ‘highlight’ of their vacation. A few even returned to travel again on the refurbished Queen of Prince Rupert ferry in subsequent seasons, (perhaps hoping for de ja vu!)?
Surprisingly, the entire incident resulted in a ‘media event’ throughout the world, publicity that nearly offset the 1.5 million dollar repair costs, because subsequent seasons were fully booked, especially by American tourists who became aware of British Columbia’s beautiful ‘Inside Passage’ route! It seems that ‘any publicity is good publicity.’
All aboard B.C. Ferries, eighth largest maritime fleet in the world (in 1967).
* Haddington Reef is described as “a bank of glacial material embedded with boulders” by Oceanographer Dr. W.H. Mathews.
This a very personal post. As a ‘very’ young person I was motivated to travel, I can’t speak to the psychological reasons.
Beginning with leaving kindergarten class I walked several blocks to my dad’s real estate office, he wasn’t present and I wasn’t even able to open the door but his partner did so to his amazement.
At an early date after that I successfully alluded detection between racks of clothes, exiting the store where mom was shopping. I boarded a Street car pretending to be with other boarding riders. Young kids got a free ride in those days. That adventure ended when all (other) passengers had alighted at the end of the line. It was the end of the line at central station on Main street in Vancouver. With no other passengers of course I stuck out like a sore thumb to the driver!
However bemused friendly driver’s gave me an ice cream cone, as I happily awaited my distraught mother perched on the front counter of the station office. Mom had discerned what I had done and phoned the station to locate me.
Then there was the time I traveled a couple of miles on my first ‘two-wheeler’ bicycle to my dad’s office on Kingsway. That adventure did not result so favorably. Dad gave me a severe licking!
Sometime after that episode, there was a similar ‘street car escape’ heading South on Fraser Street. My intended destination was Uncle’s general store believing it to be on South Fraser. It wasn’t, but the street car driver kindly suggested it might be over on Oak, or was it Cambie Street, not sure. So I walked many blocks West from Fraser after exiting the street car and eventually knocked on Uncles’ residence at the rear of the store, even my slightly older cousin was very surprised, but he was much less an adventurer.
Recovering from laughing astonishment, my Uncle hastened to call my parents who may not even missed me because, unlike today, we kids were allowed to freely roam the neighborhood until late during summer months. Anyway I recall his phone call to my dad; “guess who came to visit us today!?” Can’t recall if that ended with a spanking and/or sans supper after he came to pick me up.?
These events were all in the 1940’s, but many years later the same ‘traveler’ inclination was clearly still at work as family can attest. Perhaps its a genetic trait, only God knows.
Several commenters pointed out that I was taking it as a given that the Bible was the touchstone with which these other books must conform. I have been at pains to point out that it isn’t me saying that, but Muslims and Mormons themselves who claim to believe the Bible, and claim that their books are additions to, not replacements of, the Bible. Still, it is true that I do have a prejudice in favor of the Bible. I admit to believing the Bible is inspired, (ed: by God).
Why do I believe the Bible, and the Bible alone, is from God? Frankly, since I’ve been studying it all my life, it would take me longer than the space available in this column to answer that, but let me just hit some of the highlights.
Science: The Koran says the sun sets at night in a pond. (Sura 18:86) The Book of Mormon speaks of diseases “to which men were subject by the nature of the climate.” ( Alma 46:40) It was a common belief in Joseph Smith’s day that some diseases were caused by the climate. Malaria, for example, was believed to be caused by the humid air of a swamp, (mal = bad, aria = air) rather than being transmitted by the mosquitoes that lived in the swamp. Bible writers were not swayed by the non-scientific beliefs of their time. While it is certainly no science book, what it says conforms with proven scientific fact. For example, it describes the earth as round, and hanging unsupported in space. This at a time when most of the human race believed the earth was flat and supported on the back of a huge elephant.
Prejudice: The Koran incites prejudice against Jews, Christians, and even ‘ignorant Arabs’: “The Arabs of the desert are the worst in Unbelief and hypocrisy, and most fitted to be in ignorance.” (Koran 9:97) The Book of Mormon incites prejudice, stating that dark skin is a curse and white skin is a blessing: “And their curse was taken from them, and their skin became white like unto the Nephites.” (3 Nephi 2:15; see also 1 Nephi 13:15) The Bible is entirely without prejudice: “God shows no partiality. In every nation whoever fears Him and works righteousness is accepted by Him.” (Acts 10:35)
God’s justice: The Koran says the wicked will burn in Hell. The Book of Mormon says the wicked will burn in Hell. The Bible says the wicked will cease to exist. (1 Samuel 2:9; Job 3:17; Psalm 37:9,10, 34, 38; Psalm 104:35; Proverbs 2:22) Jesus’ sacrificial death: The Koran says Adam repented and God forgave him. Hence no one inherited sin, and there is no need for a ransom. The Book of Mormon says Adam repented and God forgave him; I agree with the logic of the Koran: If we didn’t inherit sin from Adam, why do we need Jesus’ sacrifice? Nevertheless, the BoM still speaks much of it, and calls on all to believe in Jesus. The Bible says: “Through one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin, and so death passed on to all men inasmuch as all sinned.” (Romans 5:12)
Wisdom: For me, the most powerful reason for believing the Bible is its wisdom. People who have lived – knowingly or unknowingly – by Bible precepts have had better lives than those who have not. Some of those precepts are:
Treat others as you would wish them to treat you.
Happy are they who realize their spiritual poverty.
A man who loves silver will never get enough silver.
Do not offer to remove the speck from your brother’s eye when you have a plank in your own.
A tranquil heart makes for a healthy body, but jealousy is like bone cancer.
Man’s anger does not accomplish God’s righteousness.
There is more happiness in giving than in receiving.
Take a minute to ponder that last one. Look around at your neighbors. Many of them seem to be living by the principle that there is more happiness in getting. “When I get that car… when I get that house… when I get that girl, then I’ll be happy.” Left to their own devices, these people could go through their entire lifetimes without ever discovering the truth that there is more happiness in giving. That’s because this is God’s thinking, not human thinking.
For me, this is a “Wow!” point. The wisdom of the Bible is the best proof of its inspiration.
If you believe the Koran is inspired, if you believe that the Book of Mormon is inspired, I have one challenge for you: Show me a “Wow!” point from either of those works. To qualify as a “Wow!” it must be a principle that is true, profound, and something most humans don’t seem to be following, something they would never think of on their own. Oh, and one more thing: It needs to be a principle that was not already covered in the Bible. Because, Koran believer, Book of Mormon believer, it is your contention that God had more to say after the Bible was finished. And it’s my contention that He did not.
