I was re-listening to this audiobook and again, I'm loving it. I first finished listening back in Marcha nd April and wrote in the Podiobook blog the following review:
"I am so glad to soon be able to buy this book in print but I must confess, I have moved all the files to permanent storage on my hard drive so I can listen again later to this fine audio production (ya know, in case it leaves podiobooks for some reason or the internet implodes, whatever).
I have many books that I have truly enjoyed in my bookcase but there are a special few that represent ideas and reflections on society that I like to visit every so often to see how my point of view has changed, how my understanding has matured and how society in reality compares to the fictional. Examples of these books would be “1984″ by George Orwell, and “Anthem” and “Atlas Shrugged” by Ayn Rand. I would like to see my own copy of “The Immortals” sitting along side them.
I have enjoyed Tracy’s earlier works, which came to me via my liking for fantasy and SF. “The Immortals” is a couragous departure. It is well written and the concept is extremely daring in today’s political climate. I think that it is an absolutely plausible scenario. Many governments throughout history have segregated, detained or erased certain portions of the population for the “good of society”, as mentioned in previous posts. This cautionary tale is relevent to current affairs and should be read and heeded. I say this without even hearing the last few chapters, as the warning runs clearly and irrevocable through the narrative and can only conclude in one way (as much as I am dreading it) that will be true to the theme. I believe that is the strength of the story and the power in the lesson. Thank you for writing this, Tracy. It’s a good one and will stand."
Podiobooks in general is a wonderful website and TOTALLY FREE!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Happy Fathers' Day and Fiesta Week Parade
Oshawa is celebrating Fiesta Week and we attended the annual Fiesta Parade today. I get a kick out of waving back at the people on the floats and even having snippits of conversations with them. It was fun to see the floats, the Shriner mini-cars and bikes, two Bagpipe Marching bands (my personal favs), two steel drum floats, all the Miss Whatevers and Jr. Miss Whatevers, Caribana costumes and, this year, for the first time, Falun Gong had two contingents participating. They were very happy and you could tell they were pleased by the positive reception. I don't know very much about them but I support their right to believe whatever they want. That's what is great about being Canadian, there's room for other faiths, doctrines, beliefs here and our country is richer for the variety.
"In China, this spiritual movement has been the target of an enormous State security sweep over the past two years, a crackdown that has led to tens of thousands of followers being imprisoned. Amnesty International says at least ten followers died in custody in the first year of the crackdown. Falun Gong says that number is now closer to 200, but China won't allow any independent verification.
The Communist Party in China has branded Falun Gong an evil cult with a political agenda to destabilise Chinese society. This is a campaign that has been led from the very top by the Party boss and President, Jiang Zemin." ABC Radio National Background Briefing
We had dinner with my Dad, he wanted to cook for us (I offered to go out for dinner). He made pork chops, potatoes, salad and a new recipe: cabbage sauteed with onions and bacon bits - yummy!
After dinner, Emma went swimming at the local public pool and I read her book from school, "The Great Gilly Hopkins" by Katherine Paterson (one does what one can when stuck at the pool waiting for an hour and a half!). I actually enjoyed it! And, for my added pleasure, Emma and I discussed the book on the walk back home.
So a very nice day overall. :)
"In China, this spiritual movement has been the target of an enormous State security sweep over the past two years, a crackdown that has led to tens of thousands of followers being imprisoned. Amnesty International says at least ten followers died in custody in the first year of the crackdown. Falun Gong says that number is now closer to 200, but China won't allow any independent verification.
The Communist Party in China has branded Falun Gong an evil cult with a political agenda to destabilise Chinese society. This is a campaign that has been led from the very top by the Party boss and President, Jiang Zemin." ABC Radio National Background Briefing
We had dinner with my Dad, he wanted to cook for us (I offered to go out for dinner). He made pork chops, potatoes, salad and a new recipe: cabbage sauteed with onions and bacon bits - yummy!
After dinner, Emma went swimming at the local public pool and I read her book from school, "The Great Gilly Hopkins" by Katherine Paterson (one does what one can when stuck at the pool waiting for an hour and a half!). I actually enjoyed it! And, for my added pleasure, Emma and I discussed the book on the walk back home.
So a very nice day overall. :)
A Fine Beginning
I've been swapping on Swap-bot http://www.swap-bot.com/ , which is highly addictive! Mostly, I like to swap ATC's (Artist Trading Cards) and other paper crafts. Give me paper, scissors and glue and I'm a happy camper!
Speaking of camping, I was listening to my favourite podcast "Cast On" with Brenda Dayne http://www.cast-on.com/ , which begins a new series this week with scouting as it's theme. It brought to mind my memories of summers at Camp Ouareau and I wrote an essay about my camp experiences "back when":
The clarity of a french horn soothing me to rest with "Taps" is the strongest memory of Camp Ouareau for me. Each evening, after lights out, some of the camp counselors would sit on a hill above the cabins and tents and sing sweet songs to help us wind down from a busy day of swimming, crafts, canoeing, sailing and beading. Some of the songs I sang to my own child originated here, in the memories of hot summer nights, buzzing mosquitoes and the warmth I felt, lying in my sleeping bag, in my home away from home. Every night’s serenade was finished with a rendition of "Taps". It seemed the last note would echo through air forever.
My feelings about summer camp are bittersweet. I never wanted to go, yet by the end of summer I was crying as I boarded the bus to the airport for the flight home. My parents wanted to send me away from our small mining town in northern Labrador for the summer. From 11 to 16, I was sent to Camp Ouareau in the Laurentiens of Quebec. Years one to three along with my sister, and eventually alone, I went there for five years, at first for one month and then for the whole summer.
Every summer, I arrived at camp resentful and unhappy and suffered miserable homesickness. The letters I sent home to my parents were heart wrenching requests to return home. Yet, mixed in with the sadness, I have memories of learning to build campfires, canoeing across the lake to Blueberry Island for a weenie roast over an open fire, warm "bug juice" (Kool-aid) and oranges once a week, the "Sunday School Picnic" when everyone dressed up as their favorite hillbilly, the pride I felt at finally achieving my black bead and could swim in deep water.
The camp had a spirit of it’s own, called Bymph. Unseen, yet felt throughout camp, Bymph was the bringer of sunshine and laughter, and embodied the cheerful camp spirit. Each session had a tableau play, when the campers acted out skits about camp life. At some point in each skit, the players would "freeze" while the girl playing Bymph would skip and play around to the great enjoyment of the audience.
The camp director, Madeline Ferguson, known as Ferg, was a remarkable woman. I respected her as a strong female role model. Ferg was tall and square-built, straight talking, wise, and compassionate. Her energy and enthusiasm for the outdoors was infectious. She represented to me everything that was good and solid about Camp Ouareau.
In my first year at camp, I was caught stealing gum from a councilor’s cabin. I had been sneaking in and stealing packs of "Big Red" chewing gum from the councilor’s stash for some days when I was caught and brought before Ferg. She sat with me and listened to my tales of woe at having been sent to camp against my wishes, of my longing for home, of my loneliness and feelings of rejection from my sister (who was thoroughly enjoying her camping experience and had no time for me), and my difficulties making friends. She made an exception and let me call home, which made a world of difference. She didn’t punish me, she just listened. Ferg passed away in 2003. It’s hard to imagine her not being there, as she always is in my memories of Camp Ouareau.
It’s been 30 years since I walked along Lake Ouareau, yet it feels like yesterday. My own Emma is almost 12. She would love Camp Ouareau, and Bymph and sailing and the weekly picnic. I’d love to send her but it’s beyond my reach. Sometimes we lie on my bed with my old camp songbook and I sing her all the songs. I tell her all my stories about camp and she knows all the words to "Those Silent Hills", "Barges" and "Taps". After all this time, the happy memories of Camp Ouareau definitely outweigh the sadness. Once in a while, just for a moment, I catch a whiff of camp - an unmistakable smell of water, and trees, and campfire and I am transported back in memory to beautiful Lac Ouareau and all the people I knew there.
************
Speaking of camping, I was listening to my favourite podcast "Cast On" with Brenda Dayne http://www.cast-on.com/ , which begins a new series this week with scouting as it's theme. It brought to mind my memories of summers at Camp Ouareau and I wrote an essay about my camp experiences "back when":
Memories of Ouareau
The clarity of a french horn soothing me to rest with "Taps" is the strongest memory of Camp Ouareau for me. Each evening, after lights out, some of the camp counselors would sit on a hill above the cabins and tents and sing sweet songs to help us wind down from a busy day of swimming, crafts, canoeing, sailing and beading. Some of the songs I sang to my own child originated here, in the memories of hot summer nights, buzzing mosquitoes and the warmth I felt, lying in my sleeping bag, in my home away from home. Every night’s serenade was finished with a rendition of "Taps". It seemed the last note would echo through air forever.
My feelings about summer camp are bittersweet. I never wanted to go, yet by the end of summer I was crying as I boarded the bus to the airport for the flight home. My parents wanted to send me away from our small mining town in northern Labrador for the summer. From 11 to 16, I was sent to Camp Ouareau in the Laurentiens of Quebec. Years one to three along with my sister, and eventually alone, I went there for five years, at first for one month and then for the whole summer.
Every summer, I arrived at camp resentful and unhappy and suffered miserable homesickness. The letters I sent home to my parents were heart wrenching requests to return home. Yet, mixed in with the sadness, I have memories of learning to build campfires, canoeing across the lake to Blueberry Island for a weenie roast over an open fire, warm "bug juice" (Kool-aid) and oranges once a week, the "Sunday School Picnic" when everyone dressed up as their favorite hillbilly, the pride I felt at finally achieving my black bead and could swim in deep water.
The camp had a spirit of it’s own, called Bymph. Unseen, yet felt throughout camp, Bymph was the bringer of sunshine and laughter, and embodied the cheerful camp spirit. Each session had a tableau play, when the campers acted out skits about camp life. At some point in each skit, the players would "freeze" while the girl playing Bymph would skip and play around to the great enjoyment of the audience.
The camp director, Madeline Ferguson, known as Ferg, was a remarkable woman. I respected her as a strong female role model. Ferg was tall and square-built, straight talking, wise, and compassionate. Her energy and enthusiasm for the outdoors was infectious. She represented to me everything that was good and solid about Camp Ouareau.
In my first year at camp, I was caught stealing gum from a councilor’s cabin. I had been sneaking in and stealing packs of "Big Red" chewing gum from the councilor’s stash for some days when I was caught and brought before Ferg. She sat with me and listened to my tales of woe at having been sent to camp against my wishes, of my longing for home, of my loneliness and feelings of rejection from my sister (who was thoroughly enjoying her camping experience and had no time for me), and my difficulties making friends. She made an exception and let me call home, which made a world of difference. She didn’t punish me, she just listened. Ferg passed away in 2003. It’s hard to imagine her not being there, as she always is in my memories of Camp Ouareau.
It’s been 30 years since I walked along Lake Ouareau, yet it feels like yesterday. My own Emma is almost 12. She would love Camp Ouareau, and Bymph and sailing and the weekly picnic. I’d love to send her but it’s beyond my reach. Sometimes we lie on my bed with my old camp songbook and I sing her all the songs. I tell her all my stories about camp and she knows all the words to "Those Silent Hills", "Barges" and "Taps". After all this time, the happy memories of Camp Ouareau definitely outweigh the sadness. Once in a while, just for a moment, I catch a whiff of camp - an unmistakable smell of water, and trees, and campfire and I am transported back in memory to beautiful Lac Ouareau and all the people I knew there.
************
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