Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic September, 2016
Victoria and the Province are blind to the real costs of gambling.
THROUGH THE SUMMER, the wires crackled with the news that Victoria has become the latest winner in the BC Lottery Corporation’s coveted casino lottery. Yes, a casino is coming to town, and while we don’t yet know exactly where and when, there’s plenty of political keenness on the accompanying plum, an annual cheque for about $2 million for the bother of “hosting” the venture. Mayor Lisa Helps has called the coup a “win for everybody.”
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, July 2016
The brave new world of GMO salmon joins other absurdities like flooding the fertile Peace River Valley.
WHEN IT COMES TO RANKING species dumb enough to skunk their own food supply, I’d say we’re far enough in front of the pack to be placed in a class all our own. Perhaps it all started some 30 centuries ago with the invention of currency, which turned everything into a measurable commodity and made way for the storing of wealth. The traditional fruits of bartering—fresh figs, fish and falafel, for example—had not been well suited for hoarding, but coins and tokens certainly were, and over time that changed everything.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, May 2016
Realities like increased GHGs just get processed in the premier’s political mix-master.
WHEN I WAS A CHILD I dreamed I could fly. It was a recurring dream that took me up over our house and around the world, which for me at that time was the breadth of my town plus a few added kilometres stretching up and down the road. I’d wake to my muscles still twitching with the memory of it all, the easy takeoff and graceful landing, the instinctive choreography of arms and legs for optimal gliding on the winds. The conviction that humans were somehow primordially linked to birds perdured so strongly in my bones that unlocking the ancient code to human flight became my life’s mission.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, March 1, 2016
When the world seems crazy, chopping and stewing conserve sanity and the Earth.
I'M MAKING SOUP TODAY, with the last of the pumpkins we bundled into the garage last fall. The art of soup making—originally using meat leftovers and foraged bits of grains and greens, and long before the concept of recipe—no doubt began evolving eons ago when food was scarce and sporadic, and people were practical and hungry. Today more than ever it’s a primal and satiating ritual for both body and soul—the gathering and preparation of ingredients on hand, the stirring as wonderful fragrances are released, the ladling of elixir into the bowl.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, February 2016
The yarn that keeps us knitted together, especially through winter.
ON A RECENT MOONLESS NIGHT when the wind was once again mitt-slapping rain against the house, I was curled up on the couch with an article about life in Norway’s far north. Winter hits cold and hard in these small tundra towns: Even the sun shrinks away to just a thin, indifferent glimmer on the horizon. You’d think the people who live here would be more prone to seasonal depression, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, January 2016
2016: A good year for championing everything local.
A few weeks ago I experienced a close and memorable encounter with one lone tree. It wasn’t in the forest, and it wasn’t intact, but it added a whole new and indelible perspective to what I already know to be true about trees—that they have power, majesty and great value.
My lone tree encounter actually happened in town, at the Robert Bateman Centre. The exhibit known as OneTree is a collection of 42 incredible wood creations all from the loins of a single bigleaf western maple tree. For a century or more this magnificent mother tree graced a Cowichan farm landscape, her crown an avian gathering place, her muscled arms steady under the weight of four gleeful kids gliding on swings below.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, December 2015
This Christmas season, let’s envision our city as an inn that truly has room for everyone.
One of the most enduring symbols of Christmas is that of a vulnerable young family taking refuge from the desert night in a lowly stable. According to the narration in the ancient holy scrolls, the family found itself relegated to the bleak outbuilding because, “There was no room at the inn.”
We’ll never know whether the lack of vacancy was based on a genuine shortage of space. Maybe the family was turned away for lack of means to pay, or perhaps it fell short of the innkeeper’s entrenched standards for his guests. What we do know is that the iconic image of a poor young couple and their newborn baby nestled among a menagerie of farm animals still resonates with so many of us, more than 20 centuries later.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, November 2015
The story of a young soldier from Victoria helps us remember why we should strive for peace.
In this month of remembering our veterans, I bring you the story of a young Victoria soldier who fell from the sky without a parachute and survived. He was Norman Wharf, born on the Gorge in 1920 and a “telegraph boy” in his mid-teens, delivering telegrams by bicycle at three cents apiece.
Against his father’s wishes he joined the Royal Air Force and became a rear gunner. He was typical of airmen in those days—exceedingly young and with less training in flying and gunning than it now takes to get a driver’s license. He was only 24 when his plane was shot down.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, October 2015
Low voter turnout in 2011 allowed a small minority of Canadians to elect a majority government.
Did you know that right now you own something so coveted by certain prominent Canadians that they and their varied confreres are spending an arm and a leg to convince you to give it to them? You guessed it; I’m talking about your vote.
But let’s start over, because that first sentence is not entirely accurate. It’s true that millions of partisan dollars have been bringing election buses and podium rhetoric to almost every whistle-stop in the country—such excitement!—but not everyone necessarily wants you to vote.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, September 2015
Provide a home and the rest follows.
Maybe it was the hammer on the logo that first drew me in. There’s something invigorating about swinging a hammer to sink a nail to fasten two boards into new beginnings. The end result is almost always greater than the sum of its parts.
I discovered the magic of the hammer the summer I was eight and my dad decided to replace our barn, an old wood-boned structure that seemed to accept the news by leaning ever more noticeably towards its own tipping point. I have no memory of it coming down but I certainly remember the new one going up. With my oversized hammer I drove nail after nail into scraps of wood, timidly at first—because the thing you quickly learn is that a hammer works either for you or painfully against you—but then with enough fervour to prompt the foreman to put the nails out of my reach.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, July/August 2015
What’s happening on our roads is a microcosm of what seems to be ailing society in general.
I write with an angry undertone because three mornings ago my cousin and his wife were killed when their motorcycle was slammed by an oncoming car hell-bent on passing the car in front of him despite the solid centre line. According to a horrified witness the two vehicles seemed to be racing. The driver of the passing vehicle—just 20 years old—must have realized he’d set up a horrible scenario when he saw the approaching motorcycle. My cousin braked as best he could but was doomed nonetheless. He died instantly; she passed away a short time later.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, June 2015
Despite federal neglect of environmental issues like climate change, local youth are taking meaningful action.
Perhaps the biggest revelation in the recent federal budget was what it once again didn’t offer for the environment and for young people. No surprise about the environment—that porch light went off when the current group and their lobbyists moved into the big house several years ago.
As for our youth, well, they were alluded to only once on Budget Day, not in the document but in a careless comment made afterwards by the finance minister in response to concerns that increased tax-free savings opportunities (for those who can afford them) would dent the public coffers for years to come.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, May 2015
They love the City of Gardens too.
It’s great to live in the City of Gardens, especially in spring when the landscape is effortlessly lush and bursting with colour. Living in Canada’s Rat Capital, however, is not nearly as enamouring. Over the years I’ve seen more rats in my Victoria back yard than I ever saw on the farm where I grew up. Rats creep me out, with their giant-worm tails, conniving eyes and pink, humanoid feet. My guy likes them even less, his phobia spawned by an old family story that involved him, his crib, his baby bottle and a rat.
What we have locally is a huge population of rattus norvegicus, a non-native species originally from northern China yet commonly known as the Norway rat (go figure). They like the low life, typically living in burrows or beneath sheds and woodpiles.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, April 2015
More is not better, and actually, more could be worse, says one cardiologist.
Three years ago I started training for a 10K race only because a close friend asked me to be her running buddy. I’d previously always evaded recruitment to running, being particularly averse to exertion that sears the heart and lungs and turns perfectly normal legs into silly putty. And, at the end of all the torment, what do you have to show for it besides malodorous armpits and laundry?
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, March 2015
A small house doesn’t have to be a big compromise.
Is it just my rose-coloured glasses or am I finally seeing some real incremental change in the way we do housing on southern Vancouver Island? I realize the sprawling mansions will always be with us—probably one day destined to repeat local history and be split into multiple units—but smaller homes seem to be gaining local favour.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, February 2015
How about a bucket list for the Earth instead?
A month into 2015, I’m still pondering New Year’s Resolutions and also Bucket Lists. I’ve always been a bit sceptical of the former, a tradition I learned about only at school since it was not part of my parents’ culture. Resolutions seemed designed to start the year off on a punitive note, like penance or a dour disciplinarian’s call back to the classroom after the holiday recess. I never really warmed up to the ritual. Who needs the added stress at an already exhausting time?
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, January 2015
Lucky for us there are folks taking initiative on some ingenious and beneficial ideas.
Last fall the Dutch town of Nuenen unveiled a kilometre-long stretch of bike path that was inspired by the iconic Van Gogh painting “Starry Night.” Bike paths are nothing new to The Netherlands but this particular section, through the town where Van Gogh once lived, takes the cycling experience to a whole new height.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, December 2014
Tailoring Christmas celebrations to your own sense of meaning.
All over town the holiday lights are beginning to twinkle and once again I find my soul stirring in anticipation of Christmas. I can’t help it: I’m a dreamer and an optimist and every year I’m confident that this will be the best Christmas ever. This will be the year I have everything ready well in advance so I can put up my feet (or kick up my heels) with the rest of the gang. This will be the year I stumble upon some real understanding of life and its purpose, perhaps while on a night-time walk under a cold starry sky, or in the pages of a book stumbled upon, or in my childhood church revisited, where the story celebrated in hymns and ritual still thrums in a yearning place deep in my heart.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, November 2014
The surest ways to safeguard our neighbourhoods.
Two things have happened since I pondered the attributes of real neighbourhoods and genuine community in my column last month. First, I read In the Garden of Beasts, an exceptional and gripping work of non-fiction by historian Erik Larson. Set in Berlin in 1933, it details almost stitch by stitch how a civilized and moderate German society was systematically unravelled and then re-knit into such a horrid aberration of itself that it willingly helped launch one of the most evil and ill-conceived wars of all time.
It’s nice to think that we could never be manipulated that way.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, October 2014
Conjuring the magic of a healthy neighbourhood.
Have you noticed what’s different in neighbourhoods these days?” asked one of my elderly friends on a leisurely drive around suburbia. “You don’t see kids playing outside anymore. You rarely see anyone in their yard.”
It’s true. Children have largely moved indoors with their electronic devices or are being ferried to structured programs by parents too fearful to let them roam their own beat. Adults, when you do see them about, are always on the go, mowing or pruning or heading out to walk the dog.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, September 2014
Nurturing the glorious fight against food waste.
Every once in awhile an idea comes along that’s so brilliant in its simplicity it leaves you wondering why no one’s thought of this before. Among the latest is an avant-garde campaign against food waste created and launched by Intermarché, a grocery conglomerate with more than 1800 stores in France.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, July/August 2014
When life at home is overwhelming, find relief in all those global disasters.
Living in the global village means that your life ebbs and flows with the currents of the world, what with issues and developments everywhere continually unfolding and demanding tweaks in your own perspective, priorities and—inevitably—lifestyle. Last year’s tragic collapse of a garment factory in Bangladesh, for example, highlighted the need to reconsider the real cost of throw-away-cheap clothing. The smog over China—fuelled by our own natural resources—is now drifting back to mock our short-sighted greed and doltishness. Petition requests for every cause from dying bees to dying democracies fly out of our electronic devices whenever we dare to open them. It never ends.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, June 2014
The garden is a pathway to a safer, better world.
Out in the garden I work the soil, divide perennials, pull weeds, spread compost, and let nature wash away the aches and scrapes that tag along with life and sometimes threaten to eclipse it. I’m fortunate to have a garden, a place where I can reconvene with calmness and well-being on days that threaten to bowl me over. I go unplugged, leaving behind the phone and all electronic devices. I am a child again, on my hands and knees peering into the heart of a frilly tulip, inhaling its extraordinary, citrus-tinged elixir.
I know all winter that the spring bulbs are coming and yet their arrival is always a surprise, their colours against the backdrop of a garden just stirring out of hibernation always more intense than I remember.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, May 2014
Searching for a sensible solution to kitchen scraps—in our own backyard.
When Saanich’s new garbage truck trundled onto our street last week the neighbourhood was ready. We’d all stationed our new square “carts”like butlers along the curb, the larger grey ones full of garbage and the smaller green ones proffering a smorgasbord of kitchen and garden organics.
The truck sidled up to the first grey cart and extended a huge orange arm that enveloped it in a bear hug and hoisted it high overhead. Dangling there, its unlatched lid yawned open and garbage spewed into the truck’s maw. The lid smacked shut again when the cart was set back down.
“How long do you think the pails will last?” asked one skeptic to no one in particular. I silently wondered what people might start putting in them now that hands-on surveillance has been removed from the process.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, April 2014
Wood pellets are the latest resource BC is shipping west.
The air outside my window is cool and pristine but at the moment I’m struggling to breathe, thanks to a nasty, stubborn cold. Laboured breathing is a bad feeling but for me the ordeal is almost over. Not so for the millions of people living in Beijing and northern China who, for the seventh day in a row, are caught under a dome of smog so thick and toxic that the World Health Organization has declared it extremely hazardous to human health.
Don’t let my use of the word “dome” keep you from thinking big: The poisonous cloud covers a landmass larger than that of British Columbia and the Yukon combined. And that’s not the extent of China’s air quality crisis. More than a thousand kilometres to the south, pollution is also stifling the massive port city of Shanghai, home to another 14 million people.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, March 2014
Gone: our freedom to live anonomously.
A few mornings ago I was rushing myself out the door while trying to decide if I needed a warmer jacket. “How cold is it outside?” I called out to my guy while rifling through the hall closet. He, being a hobby meteorologist, relishes any weather-related question. Out of the blue he’ll share that the roads are icy in New Brunswick or record heat is shrivelling Cairo or the temperature in downtown Victoria is three degrees warmer than at the airport.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic February 2014
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, January 2014
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, November 2013
Is the government losing sight of “us” in its rush to exploit resources?
If my mother lived in this province I don’t think Christy Clark would like her much. She contributes so little to the economy that if every British Columbian was like her it would be hard to justify all the frenetic growth the government has planned for the next four years.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, October 2013
A crucial link in the food security chain.
Today we picked about 50 pounds of pears from a tree that received hardly a drop of water over the dry summer. After trundling the boxes into our cold-storage room I had to stop for a minute and marvel at the bounty of our smallish, non descript backyard garden. What happens here every year is a miracle, really. Despite the dry summer, the apple trees have produced enough fruit to supply us with applesauce for a year, and the blackberry and raspberry bushes near the fence have provided a good stash of fruit for the freezer. (I should make clear that owning a blackberry bush is like owning a bronco—you have to keep a very tight rein. I allow just a single vine to run along the fence and keep everything else severely curbed. Every year my ruthlessness is rewarded with several litres of mouth-watering berries.)
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, September 2013
We have more holistic ways to measure our wellbeing than the GDP. Let’s use them.
In July I surmised on this page that the Gross National Product (GNP) is a clumsy tool for determining our wellbeing since it only keeps track of our economic activity and assumes that all growth is good. As the economy gets bigger, life gets better, goes the logic. Never mind that the GNP is currently being bolstered by the forensics, funerals, rebuilding, environmental clean-up and psychological support happening in Lac Mégantic, site of the horrific train derailment this past summer. You can see the limitation.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, July/August 2013
Our standard measurement of economic success is at odds with most things we truly cherish.
Ah, the wily gross national product, the statistic that has government and commerce cheering each time it moves brightly upward like the fundraising barometers often seen around town. That’s the sign of a robust economy, and when the economy is healthy, so are we all, right?
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, June 2013
Most of us are lucky enough to be able to choose our health destiny.
A few months ago the Canadian Heart and Stroke Foundation released an ad that’s both jarring and profound. On a split screen the video streams two very different scenarios for life in the senior years—one from the vantage point of robust health and the other from the chronic sickbed. “What will your last ten years look like?” asks the narrator as the actor laces up his runners in the left screen but struggles his foot into a slipper on the right. “Will you grow old with vitality or get old with disease?” Wheels roll across the screen, those of the actor’s bicycle on the left and his wheelchair on the right. Dinner on the left happens at table with family over a glass of wine; on the right the actor is in his hospital bed, unable to lift a styrofoam cup without help.
“It’s time to decide,” the narrator says grimly.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, May 2013
Keeping the bullies out of your garden helps protect local parks too.
After a few years of procrastination we’ve finally tackled a dreaded job in the garden, that of digging a deep trench and installing a root barrier between our vegetable patch and a neighbour’s cedar hedge. We knew the hedge was siphoning food and water away from anaemic vegetable plants and stunted strawberries—we just didn’t know to what extent. What a creepy surprise to find the invading roots everywhere, a vast and tenacious network of tentacles lurking just below the food crop.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, April 2013
Tell us how society—not business and government—will benefit from smart meters.
One of these days, I suppose, the BC Hydro folks will send someone to our door to inquire why we’ve been so contrary with respect to the “smart meter.” They might be surprised to see that we don’t wear the metaphorical tinfoil hats that some critics, both local and away, have used to berate anyone who’s been hesitant about Hydro’s behemoth meter replacement project.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, March 2013
If you wait long enough, your pink bathroom fixtures will be back in vogue.
How do you know that you’ve waited too long to strip your bathroom of the pink and grey colour scheme that was so popular here in the late 1980s? By flipping through the pages of a current décor magazine and discovering that the hot new colours for 2013 are…purple and grey as well as “fifty shades of pink.”
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, February 2013
Life is richest and happiest when shared, complexity and messiness not withstanding.
When the moving truck—or in this case, the decommissioned handyDART—rolled out of our driveway yesterday with two daughters and all their worldly possessions on board, emotions went off in my head like fireworks.
First: The Girls. There they go again, the eldest with plenty of independence under her belt and the youngest who first left home last summer. I’m lucky they’re only going across town to where a cozy apartment awaits, but still. I miss them already and I know their empty bedrooms will start shouting at me as soon as I head back indoors.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, January 2013
26,000 tonnes of garbage vanishes.
You know the holidays are over when the resulting glut of garbage appears at the curb in the dying days of December. How quickly the sparkle of special foods and beautifully packaged gifts is reduced to a sodden mass of organic and inert trash. The sight of it all is tarnishing somehow, as depressive as stumbling upon a dirty dumpster and furtive cluster of smoking employees at the back door of your favourite restaurant. There’s no getting around the messiness of being human, but really, does it have to be this self-indulgent?
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, December 2012
The quest for peace begins at home.
For many people, the wish for world peace has become almost reflexive, a clichéd afterthought on our more palpable list of longings. And it’s a hopeless wish anyway, as out of reach as the top rung of a giant ladder when all the other rungs are missing. We might as well be wishing for the moon.
Still, despair doesn’t sit well with us either, and in this coming season of hope, many people again find themselves daring to believe that we could make our browbeaten world a better place, if only we knew where to start. Well, take heart: it turns out our town is full of people committed to building rungs for that ladder. Here they share their insight and suggestions.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, November 2012
A department of peace could help reframe our approach to conflict.
For almost a century the red poppy has been the prevailing international symbol for remembering the war dead and their ultimate sacrifice. It’s a very effective badge, a bright stain of blood that will be pinned onto the lapels of a few million Canadians every year at this time. Some will take time to ponder the little flower’s burden; others will wear it out of unparsed habit or the primordial desire to stay in step with the crowd. Mine compels me to try visualizing the 117,000 Canadian soldiers who’ve been killed in all battles to date (according to the Royal Canadian Legion’s website). The image both boggles and numbs my mind.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, October 2012
Both mother and daughter survived the trip.
By the time this issue of Focus is out I’ll be counting down the last two weeks of our eldest daughter’s year-long adventure in Southeast Asia (The emphasis is mine: Who knew that time could be such a trickster, crawling through the endless hours of a loved one’s absence while flying through life’s usual rigours at the same time?)
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, September 2012
We’re very good at convincing ourselves we’ve progressed, not so good at the actual progress.
During the glorious days of summer I shamelessly abandoned a chronically thirsty garden and most of my other duties to join the legions of Canadians plunked in front of televisions everywhere to watch the Olympic Games. Cheering is a sport in itself, and I happily gave my best to our hardworking athletes who did a great job and made us all proud.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, July/August 2012
Figuring out what to eat these days is getting darn complicated.
As the song goes, it’s summertime and the living is easy. Except at our house at dinner time, when everyone comes to the table with a different notion of what constitutes a healthy, tasty meal. There was a time I could select from a wide range of everyday entrée recipes, add a few veggies, a salad, a pot of rice or some presentation of potatoes, and everyone was happy. Or at least happy enough to eat what was offered, even if it wasn’t the expressed favourite. That distinction, for the kids, went to Friday night’s chicken nuggets and homemade oven fries. For their dad, a health professional with a lifelong passion for practising what he teaches, it was any fresh seafood surrounded by heaps of vegetables.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, June 2012
How someone who dreaded running, learned to love it.
There’s nothing quite as empowering as the experience of having triumphed over something you never thought you’d be able to do. Such was my euphoria a month ago when I crossed the finish line of the Times Colonist 10K run, feeling tired but strong and probably grinning from ear to ear.
I’ve never thought of myself as a runner, not even in the days when I was an ill-trained member of my high school’s ragtag track team. I never liked the burn in my legs, the weight of exhaustion on my lungs, the nauseating thickness in my throat—all of which I took to be signs of my body’s demand to cease and desist. Over the years I easily brushed off many invitations to take up running, including those from a daughter for whom flying on her feet has long been a powerful elixir.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, May 2012
Power failures bring out the design flaws in our technology.
We’ve had our share of power failures these past few months, given that the island winds seem to relish throttling the tree tops and playing skip rope with the hydro wires every time the clouds loom low and sullen. You might as well haul out the candles and boil a last kettle when the strait turns into a herd of frothing, bucking waves all stampeding for shore. Soon the radio announces that the ferries have stopped running, and then the radio stops running too, unless you have one that can be cranked, which we did until the crank itself was inadvertently cranked off.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, April 2012
Government and business interests are selling our country and its resources to the Chinese.
NORMALLY I'M QUITE AN OPTIMISTIC PERSON but this year it seems harder than usual to come out from under the winter. I can’t blame it on the weather, though the marathons of dreary days did add a certain weight. No, the bigger bleakness comes from what feels like a steady stream of news that points to a country and society—namely ours—on the downswing.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, March 2012
Nobody wins when the environment and economy are pitted against each other.
Like most people, I’d never heard of Klaus Schwab, a German-born business professor and founder of the decades-old World Economic Forum for the ultra-rich and powerful. That is, I’d never heard of him until he opened his mouth at the Forum’s annual gathering in the Swiss Alps last January to announce to his exclusive audience: “Capitalism, in its current form, no longer fits the world around us.”
Sounding like a man who’d been doing some heavy pondering, he spoke of the growing inequities within and between countries and suggested the time had come to “embrace a much more holistic, inclusive and qualitative approach to economic development…A global transformation is urgently needed and it must start with reinstating a global sense of social responsibility.”
By Trudi Duivenvoorden Mitic, February 2012
Despite the minor annoyances and even fiascos, life in this corner is pretty darn good.
As I write this, the Christmas interlude is rapidly being displaced by the Days of Disarrangement at our house, a season that unfailingly descends on us every year at this time, sometimes even before the tree is down. Suddenly everything around us seems to be coming undone. It’s gotten to the point where I fear the cupboard doors will fall off their hinges if I touch them, and I really shouldn’t even be on the computer right now.
The microwave leads the calamity parade this year, having belched an acrid whiff of electrical-fire breath as a way of calling it quits on Christmas Eve. Now it sits in my office awaiting disposal, as dead as the warranty that accompanied it off the boat from China just four years ago.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, January 2012
Confessions from an introvert enroute to a more social 2012.
I had a good friend in high school who could connect with anyone. She had kind eyes, a beautiful smile and, as she would say about herself, the gift of the gab. She could speak about anything—within reason of course, this being high school—and unfailingly sprinkled her stories with the kind of self-deprecating humour that solicits the endearment of others. She cared about people and was comfortable socializing outside of her age and peer group.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, December 2011
Meaningful gift-giving doesn’t have to be costly.
This year I want nothing for Christmas. On second thought, a gift certificate for the teamed-up services of Mr Clean and the clutter buster would be most welcoming. But no presents, please—I have everything I could possibly need and I spend more hours than I care to admit trying to keep it all organized.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, November 2011
Let us find ways to honour the dead without condoning and exalting war.
I always get a bit uneasy as the country gears up for another Remembrance Day. Barely into November, lapels start sprouting poppies, bugles and speeches get polished up, and stiffly crafted, selfsame wreaths begin finding their way to the town-centre monuments. Then, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the country files into place and goes still as we remember our fallen soldiers.
This is all good and proper, but often a whiff of wartime nostalgia also furls through the typical Remembrance Day ceremony. Unavoidable perhaps, given the military nature and choreography of the event, but it confuses the clarity of the ceremony’s purpose: Are we gathered to honour the dead and lament their loss or are we unwittingly paying homage to the military paradigm as well?
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, October 2011
In some ways, country living in Victoria is better than the real thing.
My large family includes just two urbanites: A sister in Toronto and me, here in Victoria. My sister in Toronto—God love her, as the elders in our hometown would say in solace—has been trying to escape to rural Prince Edward Island for years. I, on the other hand, have been living country on my standard suburban lot for almost two decades.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, September 2011
The constant interruptions of digital media are compromising our mental acuity and ability to concentrate.
Summer is my season for reading good books, but I must confess rather glumly that it never happened this year. The time-crunch epidemic is at least partially to blame—like everyone else, I seem to be caught in a perpetual flurry of stuff to do, fix, remember or be responsible for. Who even has time to stay focused anymore? Try as I might, my thinking invariably drifts to the jumble of task-bites cluttering my head.
Maybe it’s hereditary: My mom recounts that when her kids were little, she found it tough to stay focused during her short daily meditation. “Give us this day our daily bread,” she remembers praying before the age of the microwave, which then segued into a mental note to take a loaf or two out of the freezer as soon as the meditation was done.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, July 2011
Parents can call out for help during the turbulent years of raising teens.
Having last month assessed the media’s coverage of the horrific crimes committed against local teen Kimberly Proctor, it would be easy—no, tempting—to be done with the topic and move on. To some degree words in themselves are futile anyway, and a further million spent on worried introspection would still not lead to the enlightenment and resolve required to rid society of such wickedness once and for all.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, June 2011
Sometimes turning the page is the most compassionate and sensible act.
There are many reasons to rage over the heinous crime that was committed against Kimberly Proctor last year, and, honestly, I hardly know where to begin. As a parent, I weep for her family and the endless, unimaginable burden of their loss and sorrow. I feel a white-hot anger against the cruel young men who took her life, but I’m just as furious with the families and systems—or lack thereof—that allowed them to evolve, seemingly unchecked, into sly and insidious barbarians.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, May 2011
David Suzuki knows that Canadians need not choose between the environment and the economy.
In late March came the news that we would once again get to ride the $300 million election carousel—an exercise in stepping right up to go round and round and likely end up where we started.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, April 2011
The whispers of the elders grow louder: food is a valuable commodity.
Over the past two months I’ve been outlining our specific quandary with food waste here on the island. To recap: A family of four, in this land of both abundance and recession, wastes an average of 732 kilograms of food per year, according to Statistics Canada. CRD findings tell the same story, but from a different angle: Almost a third of the garbage we put out is food waste. Because it’s more than the Hartland Landfill can continue to swallow, organics will be banned from garbage by the end of 2013.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, March 2011
With the Hartland Landfill so overburdened, food waste is the next frontier.
This past month, each person in the Greater Victoria area has, on average, walked just under 10 kilograms of food waste to the curb. That’s the equivalent of every person having put two 10-pound bags of potatoes in the garbage. Or to put it yet another way, every day another 140 tonnes of residential food waste is trucked to the Hartland Landfill. According to my middle school math, that translates into almost 31,000 bags of potatoes.
Now picture all those heavy garbage trucks delivering all those spuds to the landfill. Every day. And imagine also that for every truckload of potatoes through the Hartland gates, two trucks of other residential garbage also come by to dump a load. No wonder our landfill is forecast to be full in 24 years.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, February 2011
That’s costing us too much, in too many ways.
When my children watched Sesame Street years ago, one of the skits they especially enjoyed involved a group of items and a discussion on how these were interconnected. What do these things have in common, the viewers were asked by way of a singing ditty that still hums around in my head once in a while. Sometimes the humming starts when I see issues with a significant cause-and-effect relationship nonetheless presented as polarized stories in the media.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, January 2011
Current economic models need serious retooling.
In Kenya, like everywhere else around the globe, the natural landscape continues to erode under the relentless pressure of urban encroachment. From a safari van in Nairobi National Park, home of some of the biggest and grandest animals in the world, you can now see the high-rises of Nairobi shimmering in the distance. Such trespass is not easily curbed because the city is the heart and hope of the country’s struggling economy. As a result, the park seems destined to shrivel to a bleak inner city greenway with little more to offer than the novelty of a few caged animals bumping around in one corner.
By Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, December 2010
’Tis the season when the heart softens and the world yearns to be a better place.
Winter has arrived once again, painting gloomy beauty on the city and sealing it in with a varnish of rain. The landscape has dwindled to its semi-dormant state and muscled clouds hang low on most days. Night falls early, long before the last tired commuter has made it back home.
by Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, November 2010
A food garden will give you even more to be thankful for next Thanksgiving.
Back in June I wrote about growing food in the backyard and asked you to share your own gardening stories at the end of the harvest. We can all agree this wasn’t the best year for a garden, at least starting out: Spring was a cold clammy hand that wouldn’t let go. Then, almost overnight it seemed, we entered the season of heat and drought, punishing enough to flag even the dandelions. Did a fledgling food crop even stand a chance?
by Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, October 2010
At least kids today don’t have to worry about being hit by a teacher.
Like everyone else, I get my share of forwarded emails about adorable animals, inspirational verse and assorted nostalgia, much of it overdone with animation and music. Every once in a while someone sends me fluff extolling the Perfect Past, when common sense reigned supreme and everything was reportedly settled to satisfaction with a pat on the head, a handshake or some good old-fashioned discipline. Those were the days when men were men, women knew their place, kids toed the line, schools delivered a great education and everyone lived a happy life.
by Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic, September 2010
A new movement advocates simplicity and straightforwardness in our communications.
Years ago I was in a writers’ group that met monthly to ruminate on our varied poems and tomes in progress. Among us were those who loved elaborate vocabulary and convoluted sentences. The bigger the word the greater the genius behind it, the logic seemed to go. There was, according to this line of thinking, no greater evidence of a writer’s intellectual superiority than a confounded reader.
by trudy duivenvoorden mitic, august 2010
An elder shows the way to go the distance.
This month, a heart-warming story, perfect for telling on a balmy summer day and the first-year anniversary of my sister’s death. That day last August changed everything for my mom since she and my sister had shared a cozy home for more than 15 years.
My mom is no slouch, even now at age 85. She tends her home and garden and finds time to help others. She’s never stood out in a crowd because she finds the attention discomfiting but, like her mother before her, she’s always had a quick wit, gallons of optimism and the self-discipline of a 16th century monk. That’s probably why she managed to raise a gaggle of kids on a farm that had almost as many pets as dairy animals—a true menagerie if there ever was one. It likely also explains her determination to have us survive the hardships that befell our family, including my dad’s passing almost two decades ago.
Story by Trudy Duivenvoorden Mitic. Illustration by April Caverhill. July 2010
It’s time to return to patient-centred care that includes fresh air, sunlight, plants…life!
In this halcyon summer day the wind is tousling the treetops and the early tomatoes are beginning to swell on the vine. I wander around my little sanctuary and think of places that offer no such solace. I think of the Victoria General Hospital. My friend—I’ll call her Rose—has been living there since Christmas.