Barbs & Jabs

Cory overcame the odds

My Favourite Person of 2007 Award goes to an orphaned aboriginal kid from Keswick.
It was, indeed, a privilege to meet career soldier Pte. Cory Wallace.
Unlike most, Pte. Wallace, tries to make sense out of it all.
I met Cory just days before he was deployed to Afghanistan. His aboriginal heritage explained his haunting good looks, while the story of his upbringing reminded me people can beat the odds, pull ahead of the pack and exceed beyond anyone's expectations.
"Pick your friends wisely," is Cory's advice to young people.
Cory was born addicted to heroin. His mother, an addict, was not able to care for him and when, at 43 years old, she died in a crack house, it was a very sad time for his family, Cory says.
Drug addict or not, she was still his mother.
While Cory was practising self-preservation and respect for others, somewhere along the way he had room for empathy — a trait paramount to becoming a good person.
During our two hours together, Cory acknowledged he didn't make it all by himself — friends, family and teachers helped him along the way. While Cory moved a lot, he somehow stayed grounded.
While I do not support Canada's combat mission in Afghanistan, I was touched by this young man's level of caring.
When Cory's 38-member military unit left Canada in June, his personal goal was to help the women in Afghanistan achieve equality. Unlike many, Cory went to war with a purpose.
Cory is quick to point out women of Afghanistan are often forbidden to go to school or leave the house without a male escort, while some can't even seek medical attention from a male doctor.
Now back home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Cory is spending part of the holiday with family in the Keswick area. While very proud, the family is relieved Cory is back home safe and sound.
One of my New Year's resolutions is to never forget Pte. Cory Wallace.

Nation's loss hits home

My link to the late jazz great Oscar Peterson is one step in six degrees of separation.
Five years ago, my guy, Glen, and I were visiting his buddy, Pierre, outside Perth, ON. Pierre was a jazz buff and, in particular, idolized Oscar Peterson. A collector, Pierre had everything the musician produced.
During the visit, I mentioned Oscar's son, Norm, was my neighbour.
Learning this, Pierre handed me an Oscar Peterson album. It was a recording of the 1958 performance at The Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, Holland. Pierre asked if I could arrange to get his most prized possession autographed by the man himself.
With great care, I took the album home to Musselman's Lake and turned up at my neighbour's house. Showing the album to the family, I asked Norm if he could have his father to sign it for Pierre.
About 10 days later, Norm Peterson arrived on my doorstep with the signed album in hand. While I stared at Oscar's signature, Norm said his father was thrilled somebody had kept one of his 50-year-old recordings in such mint condition and was more than pleased to sign it.
It was a special day. I had just returned home from Perth after attending my guy's funeral. Glen was killed in an airplane crash and our planned future together was gone.
Soon after Norm visited, I shipped the signed album to Pierre.
Through me, Norm passed on Pierre's "thank you" to his dad, while I forwarded Oscar's words to the French Canadian jazz buff. Pierre treasures the album.
To Norm Peterson, I extend my sympathies.
While the country has lost perhaps the greatest of greats, Norm has lost a father.

Santa brings mixed bag to our holiday celebration

So, it's Christmas.
Mine, like most, is getting more diversified with the passage of time.
In our family we've got purebreds and mutts. While more are most welcome, the extended family mix now includes English, Irish, Scot, German, Hungarian, Barbadian, Filipino, Lebanese, Italian, French, Ukrainian, Swedish and the cherry on the family cake is First Nations.
When excited, many revert to their mother tongues, which means our 93-year-old German Oma doesn't speak English the entire month of December. When the First Nations kids get revved up, they revert to an Inuit dialect. 
And nothing comes close to the uniqueness of our Goths.
On the faith front, weighing in are Protestants, Catholics, new-agers, agnostics and atheists. They're made up of practising believers, non-practising believers and practising non-believers. I don't think we've got any non-believers wishing they did or believers wishing they didn't.
On the financial end, a few are in the money, most are comfortable and a few aren't. Some work too much and some not enough.
In the food department, we have diabetics, vegetarians and vegans, others are high-cholesterol restrictive or lactose-intolerant and one simply won't eat anything white. And let's not forget the two babies who have never tasted sugar.
When it comes to Christmas, we don't put our differences aside. Instead, we embrace them. After all, it's Christmas.
Hopefully, all, at some point over the holidays, will make it to the century-old Ransberry farm where our own personal Santa Claus lives. At 85, nobody loves Christmas more than my dad.
Like most families, someone is missing. In ours, it's my mother. In the midst of all the joy and sharing over the festive season, tears will fall. Our tears will be for my mother who passed away in June of 2006. She'll be remembered, loved and missed.
So to you, Merry Christmas.

East Gwillimbury mayor lashes out

East Gwillimbury Mayor Jamie Young is mad and he ain't gonna take it no more.
When, for reasons unknown, Mayor Young and long-serving Councillor Marlene Johnston participated in cutting down 83 trees at the Sharon Temple property, it was noticed.
While reading the just-released town report, I noticed some of the downed trees were evergreens, including Norway, white, Colorado blue spruce and Scots pine.
Would somebody tell Jamie the rule-of-thumb in Canada is evergreens are green forever. That's their job. Ours is to leave them alone.
Lord tunderin' Jesus, Jamie has just come out swinging.
The mayor is pointing and shaking the finger of blame in every direction but at himself. He's targeting his council, the town's senior staff, directors of the Sharon Temple and, of course, the people who carried out the inquiry and produced the tree-cutting report.
Thank the gods Jamie didn't leave us out. The media is also bad, he maintains.
Jamie, in your media release, you thanked all your friends and East Gwillimbury residents for "having the insight to question the one-sided information." But, you forgot to add you have not, despite repeated requests, returned media calls.
Jamie, it's a smidgen difficult to get "your side" when you won't talk.
Take it from a media veteran, when you suck and blow at the same time, you run out of hot air.
I do have this annoying habit — I notice how much things cost and who is to pay the freight. Now Jamie stresses the unknown cost of the inquiry is out of control.
Money's a funny thing. It doesn't care who owns it and it can dance like there is no tomorrow.
When the tree report talked money, it was clear:
• value of the trees lost: $27,000;
• cost to replace the trees: $50,000 to $70,000; and
• cost of a fence at Sharon Temple: $10,000.
Don't panic. Council has assured taxpayers the public purse will not have to open. Jamie and Marlene are getting part of the bill. Who knows who gets the rest.
Jamie, you're in a pickle. You can't get rid of your council. You can't fire the town administration all by yourself and you can't silence the media.
But you can resign.

Results of public inquiry being kept private

When it comes to transparency, colour East Gwillimbury's cellophane black and thick.
In an attempt to find get to the bottom of the inquiry into Mayor Jamie Young and a councillor turning into modern-day Paul Bunions and downing 70 trees, I'm drawing blank.
I'm more confused than frustrated.
A few weeks ago, East Gwillimbury council fell all over itself promising a transparent handling of the case.
Throughout Monday and Tuesday, local councillors held marathon meetings behind closed doors to receive, discuss and, hopefully, release a report linked to the council-called tree-cutting inquiry. Trips and calls to the town office have turned up zip.
This morning, armed with the information that the in-camera meeting would wrap up at 4:30 p.m. Tuesday, here's what's been done to put together a breaking story informing you, the public, what you deserve to know.
In the past two hours, I have placing telephone calls, cell phone calls, sent BlackBerry messages and e-mails to various East Gwillimbury staffers, council members and the lawyer overseeing the inquiry.
Here's what I have been told:
• Staff, including the town's communications officer, clerk, CEO and every other head honcho are on a retreat, destination unknown; and
• Council is not in a meeting.
The 14 attempts to get information turned up one tidbit: 
After being reached on his cell phone, Jack Hauseman told me to be patient not once, but twice. Since patience is not allowed among the media, nor is it part of my personality, I kept pressing the councillor for more information. He told me the report was being finalized. 
How can a report be finalized when staff is at a retreat, council is not in session and the mayor is nowhere to be found?
P.S. A little bird just told me the secret report would be released after lunch.
Remember, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. I'll keep you informed.

Hospital has solution for parking woes

If a hospital is judged on its first impression, Markham Stouffville Hospital has a problem.
That, however, is about to change.
The first impression at any hospital is not the nice lady who greets you at the reception desk, not the caring and overworked nurses or doctors, not the support staff, not the pricey equipment and not the CEO, whose annual salary exceeds $150,000.
Rather, the first impression you get is in the hospital parking lot.
Following a raft of complaints from the public, Markham Stouffville Hospital officials admit the health care facility's multi-step parking system has been riddled with problems for about two years. But a fix is in the works: A new and improved parking system will be put in place at Markham Stouffville Hospital sometime early in the new year, hospital spokesperson Mary-Lou James said.   
"It has been an ongoing problem," Ms James said. "The community has not been happy. We've been looking at a new system, an investigation has been done and we hope to have a new system in place."
Here's how the new system will work: You take a ticket from an outdoor vending machine in the parking lot, keep it with you and pay by using a machine inside the hospital when you leave.
The system that has been used until now has made many people unhappy. I'm one of them. 
On Nov. 3, I drove myself to  the hospital - a respiratory condition had turned nasty. By the time I made it to the parking lot, it felt as if an elephant was on my chest. With a $10 bill in one hand and my health card in the other, I approached the machine to make change in order to purchase an all-day pass.
With only bills in your pocket, you have to make change with one machine and then feed it into another to obtain your ticket which, if you get it, you take it back  your car and put it on the dash.   
With the elephant dancing on my chest, the money-sucking machine sucked in my $10 and spit it back. I kept trying. I kept failing and the elephant kept dancing. 
After 10 minutes, I switched my focus to myself. Without the necessary change to buy a ticket, I abandoned my efforts to pay for parking, opting instead to get emergency medical treatment.
Of course, when I finally left the hospital, a $35 parking ticket was on my windshield.
When I complained, Markham Stouffville Hospital and the Town of Markham started playing ping pong. I, private citizen Joan Ransberry, was the little white ball.
Back and forth I went. The last option presented to me was to dispute the $35 ticket in court.
While I considered facing a judge, a cardiologist decided I should spend Wednesday night at Markham Stouffville Hospital's sleep lab. 
With three hours notice, I finished my work day, packed my night gown and tooth brush and, before I said goodbye to my dog, I ironed my money.
With two freshly pressed $5 bills, I approached the hospital's "Pay Here" station. When the machine ate my first $5 and spit out five loonies, I was thrilled. I bet the ghost of Sir Wilfred Laurier felt proud. 
The machine did an about face and refused the second bill.
With minutes to spare before I got my brain and heart wired up, I made my way to the hospital's security station. The staff was sympathetic, acknowledged parking complaints are very common, explained it wasn't their fault or responsibility, apologized and gave me a parking pass.   
This morning, I called the hospital and the town. This time I used my media handle and explained I was looking for answers to questions linked to hospital parking problems. I left a message for hospital CEO and president Janet Beed and Markham Mayor Frank Scarpitti.
Take it from me, Ms James' news is an early Christmas present for all Markham and Stouffville residents.
An improved parking system means this top-notch hospital will finally offer a good first impression.