Canada has lost another hero. Trooper Darryl Caswell, 25, was driving in a convoy's lead vehicle, a Coyote, was it hit a bomb en route to a remote NATO base in Kandahar province's Shahwali Kot district.
This is our 57th solider killed in action since Canada entered the war in Afghanistan. What do you think about when you hear this news?
For years Canadians have lived in a country where the average person believes that we are lovers and not fighters. "Those American's are clanging their swords again," is a common smugness of many of us, when we describe our war-mongering neighbours to the south.
Canadians have for years sat comfortably on the sofa watching episodes of the Beachcombers, W5, and the CBC News being spoon-fed our backwoods, red serge, beaver loving, quiet peaceful international demeanor.
"We are peace keepers, not warriors!" is imbedded in our collective psyche. The average Canadian truly believes that our Canadian Forces relegate themselves to guarding outposts, and shaking the hands of less fortunate nationals.
This is not even close to what we are in the eyes of countries outside our borders.
It pains me to hear one of us (citizens) belittle our Canadian Armed Forces with punch lines like, "Yeah, we sent a bus 'over there' and a box of sling-shots," when we discuss our troop's abilities and movements internationally. I have even heard someone refer to our military response as a joke, or embarrassment when we step up to the plate to contribute to the foreign policy of NATO or the UN. Do people who spew these catch phrases think for one minute that the military families in our country do not hear them and are not hurt by them? I am proud of our Armed Forces, and know that we have one of the best, trained military service in the world!
Canadian soldiers are in the line of fire.
Yes, it's true. We currently have 2,673 military personnel serving in various missions around the world, of which 2,545 of them are fighting in Afghanistan. Yes, fighting.
They are not just guarding an outpost of the USA or shaking the hands of an Afghan national. Fifty-seven of these soldiers have died by gunfire, bombs and accidents, including friendly fire incidents. Their families, friends and fellows members of the Canadian Armed Forces felt these deaths. We have a commitment to keep our troops in that country until 2009, and I wouldn't be surprised if we did not extend that beyond that date. To put a timetable on a pullout is like predicting the state of Afghanistan at a particular point in time. This is not a football game, there are no time limits on war, there never will be.
Canada is at war.
Canada is currently at war with an enemy that is virtually invisible. There are no geographic boundaries that we can neatly wrapped in a box or war fronts that can be drawn on a map. Afghanistan is being invaded by radical Muslim insurgents from neighbouring countries.
These insurgents are about to get a boost from India, because that country is threatening to kick Afghan refugees out of their country.
Some of these refugees have been in India for over 20 years, a holdover from the Russian invasion of Afghanistan. When these people are tossed back into Afghanistan, many will be recruited for survivals sake to join the Taliban. Do you think that maybe 2,545 soldiers will be enough of a contribution by Canada?
Don't be fooled, Canada is needed in Afghanistan.
This really pains me, because I have a family member currently fighting in Afghanistan in our armed forces. As a matter of fact, all members of the Canadian Armed Forces have been advised that they will be serving in that war zone. I am proud of my brother-in-law and all the members of our armed forces. As a Canadian citizen I would not have it any other way. The truth is, Canada is needed overseas, in all our international commitments, and many families of our military service sacrifice their loved ones.
They worry necessarily, they fear necessarily and they love necessarily. My sister has a rendezvous with these emotions, and hopefully her children will see there father return within the year.
So when we sit at home watching reality TV...
Remember that on the other side the globe there are real Canadian troops fighting for their lives and the lives of innocent Afghan families. When you see the Canadian flag flying at half-mast, pause and shed a tear because somewhere in Canada a family is shedding many tears. If you hear one of our fellow citizens belittle our Canadian Heroes for the sake of a joke, kindly remind that person that a brave soldier is at that moment entrenched in conflict to secure his right to mock that very soldier in that way. Get behind our government who is trying to garnish support for troops in parliament all the while playing the weak hand of a minority position. If you see a member of our Canadian forces on weekend maneuvers in our community, make a point of approaching them, if possible, shake their hands and tell them how proud of them you are. Most of all, pray for our Armed Forces and their families.
Canada is an important member the coalition involved in the war against terrorism and tyranny. Yes, we are peacekeepers, but before peace is achieved, our troops must fight to secure it.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Club a Fish!
If I actually told you to go out clubbing fish, I’m not too sure what reaction I would get. For some I guess a picture of a mean hairy looking man who drags his knuckles and whacks every cute guppy looking water creature would come to mind. Some may wonder just how to wade into your local lake and find a fish. For others, I guess no thought would enter their mind. There are those you know, take a look at Paris. But when I was a young’in clubbing a fish was that moment when you knew you had arrived.
Yessirree, my pops and me, had taken that time in our lives to drive out to our favorite pond, drag our aluminum boat into the water, tie on our Canadian Wiggler, and trolled for that ever elusive walleye.
When that fish bit, I would fight it onto the boat, and WHACK that sucker on the head! What a feeling!
I remember the first fish clubbing I ever did, it wasn’t pretty. I was only six years old. Pops handed me his wooden club and while he held that poor creature while it struggled to wiggle away, I hit it over the head. It rolled its eyes and wiggled more. Pops said, “Hit it again boy, this time put it out of it’s misery!” So I whacked it again. It rolled it eyes again, and wiggled some more. Pops said, “Son, hit it right here!” and he pointed to a sweet spot. So with my tongue protruding out the right side of mouth and my left eye closed for good aim, I raised that wooden club and WHACK! Down went the fish, and up went my pops hand. That day I learned a whole new language that I later thought was the official language of the fisherman.
Pops was just as good holding the fish’in pole with his left hand as he was with his right.
But that fish still wasn’t dead, and pops had to finish it off. I later looked at my kill and noticed that it’s appearance was a bit like Rocky Marciano in the final round. I wondered how I was going to get it past the game warden, because I was sure that an assault charge was forthcoming.
That day, I clubbed many fish, and each one we clipped onto a fresh water chain and hung over the boat, giving all the other fish in the lake an opportunity to see their loved ones drug off to the frying pan. In all we caught at least twenty fish.
This is where my bubble burst.
I went out to pick up a copy of the fishing regulations because I recently acquired a nice boat from a buddy and decided I better go out and club me a wack of fish. I could not believe what I picked up!
What has happened to the days of Pisces slaughter? The day when if it had fins and was big enough, you clubbed it, cleaned it, froze it, and later fried it in butter, with a little bit of rice, some lemon, a slice of Tomato, and the peas.........
Ok, I’m back! Those days are gone. Today, if you catch a fish, you have to act like a Sunday Fishing Show Host. You know the type.
The one that sits in his boat, talks to an invisible friend, and speaks very softly and respectfully to his catch, only to sweetly pat the creature on its backside and watch as this mammoth looking Pike swims away. Yep, I bet that fish is thinking. “What a moron, you had me at .. hello!” In some Alberta lakes such as Pigeon Lake you have to apply for a draw. I grew up in a time when you only drew for game that required shooting it with a firearm. I know some like to shoot fish in a barrel, but it’s just not sporting.
Then there is the hold-over from the big game regulation. If you catch a fish, don’t clean it. In the good-old-days, many cleaned fish in the boat, then put the beautiful filets in a cooler to keep fresh. That way the meat stayed fresh. God put a process in place on this earth called decomposition. The moment a living creature dies, it begins to rot. In fishing, your best defense against it is to clean the sucker! Well, today you really can’t do that. You have to carefully do an autopsy, and ensure that the fish’s sexual identity is easily identified. OK, I must be a real hillbilly, because I really didn’t know that you could sex a fish. It’s not like I tipped them over to closely examine its undercarriage. So I absorbed these changes, and decided I would fish anyway. I would talk to them in a soft voice, let them go, and only keep the grand-daddy of the species. Off I went to my local sporting goods store.
Then the other shoe dropped.
I had to use fish friendly, politically correct, liberal loving, nonevasive, barbless fish hooks. That entails buying fish hooks where the fish could optionally stay-on the hook. No Barbs. Did it ever occur to anyone that if the fish fights without barbs, it could just decide to leave. That leaves me with the thought.. Will I only be landing a suicidal fish, and if so, what does a manic depressed fish taste like? Do I even want to assist in a fish suicide. I’m not Dr. Kvorkian! So I finally understand sport fishing. Be kind and let them all go to make more fishes, so we have more of them to let go another day. Don’t eat fish you catch in our lakes, go to your local grocery store and buy them there. Use fish friendly lures, and no live bait. You don’t want the bait to be hurt or insulted. If you catch a fish you are legally able to keep, get its permission before you club the life out of it.
So, have you hugged a fish lately? No! I didn’t think so.
Go ahead and club that fish
Yessirree, my pops and me, had taken that time in our lives to drive out to our favorite pond, drag our aluminum boat into the water, tie on our Canadian Wiggler, and trolled for that ever elusive walleye.
When that fish bit, I would fight it onto the boat, and WHACK that sucker on the head! What a feeling!
I remember the first fish clubbing I ever did, it wasn’t pretty. I was only six years old. Pops handed me his wooden club and while he held that poor creature while it struggled to wiggle away, I hit it over the head. It rolled its eyes and wiggled more. Pops said, “Hit it again boy, this time put it out of it’s misery!” So I whacked it again. It rolled it eyes again, and wiggled some more. Pops said, “Son, hit it right here!” and he pointed to a sweet spot. So with my tongue protruding out the right side of mouth and my left eye closed for good aim, I raised that wooden club and WHACK! Down went the fish, and up went my pops hand. That day I learned a whole new language that I later thought was the official language of the fisherman.
Pops was just as good holding the fish’in pole with his left hand as he was with his right.
But that fish still wasn’t dead, and pops had to finish it off. I later looked at my kill and noticed that it’s appearance was a bit like Rocky Marciano in the final round. I wondered how I was going to get it past the game warden, because I was sure that an assault charge was forthcoming.
That day, I clubbed many fish, and each one we clipped onto a fresh water chain and hung over the boat, giving all the other fish in the lake an opportunity to see their loved ones drug off to the frying pan. In all we caught at least twenty fish.
This is where my bubble burst.
I went out to pick up a copy of the fishing regulations because I recently acquired a nice boat from a buddy and decided I better go out and club me a wack of fish. I could not believe what I picked up!
What has happened to the days of Pisces slaughter? The day when if it had fins and was big enough, you clubbed it, cleaned it, froze it, and later fried it in butter, with a little bit of rice, some lemon, a slice of Tomato, and the peas.........
Ok, I’m back! Those days are gone. Today, if you catch a fish, you have to act like a Sunday Fishing Show Host. You know the type.
The one that sits in his boat, talks to an invisible friend, and speaks very softly and respectfully to his catch, only to sweetly pat the creature on its backside and watch as this mammoth looking Pike swims away. Yep, I bet that fish is thinking. “What a moron, you had me at .. hello!” In some Alberta lakes such as Pigeon Lake you have to apply for a draw. I grew up in a time when you only drew for game that required shooting it with a firearm. I know some like to shoot fish in a barrel, but it’s just not sporting.
Then there is the hold-over from the big game regulation. If you catch a fish, don’t clean it. In the good-old-days, many cleaned fish in the boat, then put the beautiful filets in a cooler to keep fresh. That way the meat stayed fresh. God put a process in place on this earth called decomposition. The moment a living creature dies, it begins to rot. In fishing, your best defense against it is to clean the sucker! Well, today you really can’t do that. You have to carefully do an autopsy, and ensure that the fish’s sexual identity is easily identified. OK, I must be a real hillbilly, because I really didn’t know that you could sex a fish. It’s not like I tipped them over to closely examine its undercarriage. So I absorbed these changes, and decided I would fish anyway. I would talk to them in a soft voice, let them go, and only keep the grand-daddy of the species. Off I went to my local sporting goods store.
Then the other shoe dropped.
I had to use fish friendly, politically correct, liberal loving, nonevasive, barbless fish hooks. That entails buying fish hooks where the fish could optionally stay-on the hook. No Barbs. Did it ever occur to anyone that if the fish fights without barbs, it could just decide to leave. That leaves me with the thought.. Will I only be landing a suicidal fish, and if so, what does a manic depressed fish taste like? Do I even want to assist in a fish suicide. I’m not Dr. Kvorkian! So I finally understand sport fishing. Be kind and let them all go to make more fishes, so we have more of them to let go another day. Don’t eat fish you catch in our lakes, go to your local grocery store and buy them there. Use fish friendly lures, and no live bait. You don’t want the bait to be hurt or insulted. If you catch a fish you are legally able to keep, get its permission before you club the life out of it.
So, have you hugged a fish lately? No! I didn’t think so.
Go ahead and club that fish
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