Shock therapy

The shrink is talking about shock therapy again.  As someone who deals with technology, I should be more sanguine about the concept of "let's reboot the system and see if that fixes the problem," but, somehow, I'm not keen on the idea.  I mean, I know it's not a threat, but it does sound an awful lot like, "You'd better get happy or we're going to put four thousand volts through your brain."  Nobody seems to be concerned about whether or not that will improve the situation or make it worse.  I guess, from *their* perspective, it doesn't really matter if things get worse: they don't like the way it is anyway.  However, I *do* know that things can get worse.  Things can *always* get worse.  I'm a grieving widower.  Of *course* things can get worse.

Job 17:10

But come! All of you! 

Try again! I will not find 

wisdom among you.

Volunteering

Last week was National Volunteer Week.  One group decided to have us fill out a "Why do you volunteer" poster.

I have always volunteered.  I started volunteering at a very early age.  In a sense my parents modelled this idea and impulse for volunteering activity, although I don't really recall their being terribly involved in volunteer organisations outside of the church.  But, nevertheless, volunteering was inculcated into me from a very early age.

I did do volunteer working for the church, but I also volunteered for a number of other organisations.  Some were related to the church.  I was on the board of the BC Area of Christian Camping International, and when I first became involved with the BC Youth Parliament, or Older Boys Parliament of BC, as it then was, it was at a time when it still had some tentative and tenuous links to its origin as a Christian boys organisation.

At one point, having built myself up quite a repertoire of volunteer work and positions, Physicians. I moved and lost all of them.  This was rather unfortunate for me.  I was very sad to to lose the positions, and the context, and even the work.  But, such is life. However, I continued volunteering in some capacity or other over time.  One of my volunteer activities was blood donations.  In Canada we don't get paid for blood donations And I gave blood quite extensively.  I have a relatively rare blood type, and so certain factors in my blood are useful to specific programs where they separated out those factors and and returned other components of my blood to me so that I could donate more often.  So, there are various and sundry ways of being involved in volunteering.

Volunteering can also help you, and benefit you, in a wide variety of ways. 

When I am doing career preparation presentations I always stress the importance of volunteering.  It was volunteering that got me a chance to get onto the Internet, over forty years ago, before the Internet was even *called* the Internet, when the Internet was accessible only to a very few.  I estimate that there were only a thousand people involved in the Internet at that point, rather than the billions that are now.

Volunteering teaches you many things.  There are the tasks that you are being asked to do, but there is also the important experience of getting along with other people in a Cooperative work situation.  Volunteer work is probably going to be different from your normal work.  And it's probably also going to be different from the work culture of your professional or working life.  As a professional, and as a consultant, I primarily work alone.  (I remember an article many years ago about everybody insisting that their jobs involved high-tech.  The author was making the point that not everybody could be involved in high-tech.  And so there had to be a definition and distinction.  His proposed distinction was that if your mother understood what you did, you didn't work in high-tech.  Not only did my mother *never,* ever understand what I did for a living, but most of my *bosses* didn't understand it either.  So, I worked alone.)  This is fine.  It's what professionals primarily do.  But it is a bit lonely.  So, working in a volunteer situation, on a crew with others, does make a nice change.

Much of my volunteer work is Community Policing (which is mostly about keeping people alive); and Emergency Support Services (which is mostly about keeping people alive); and the hospice society  (which, in my case, is mostly about comforting people who are grieving because their people have *not* been kept alive); so it's nice to go out with the trail crew (currently removing sword fern and salmonberry to keep it from encroaching on the trails), and, legitimately, kill something.

I'm not just involved in the churches (good thing), but also with the Sunshine Club (the "old folks" activities in town; I'm already on the Board), Lazy Ass Hikers, the Jesus Film Festival, Reconciliaction, and a variety of minor side projects, such as security seminars, arts walks/seminars, a speaker's bureau/club, a computer club, grief guys, an experimental CISSP seminar, grief bibliographies, and writing sermons.

You can learn activities, you can learn skills, you can learn cultures, you can learn an awful lot about life and work by doing volunteer work.  I always recommend it.  I always emphasise it to those trying to plan their careers and their life path.  Volunteer.  It's a great way to figure out what you like to do, what you *don't* like to do, what you are good at, what you *aren't* good at, and how well, you get along in different types of work environments.

I shouldn't sugar coat it: it can be difficult.  I'm facing a bit of burnout.  Don't believe the Hallmark movies: nobody comes to a small town, and particularly a mill town, unless they want to make a lot of money without too much effort.  Small towns sort of self-select for a lack of ambition and drive.  Here in Port Alberni, organisations and groups want paying members, but don't want to put in any effort into getting those members.  They don't want to produce pamphlets or easily accessible information that might explain *why* potential members might want to join (and how).  The groups don't put any effort to finding out or advertising their presence.  They want you to find them (and then pay for the privilege).

Volunteer work in Port Alberni is getting very tough.  I am having difficulty with some of the activities in many of the volunteer groups because many activities require multiple members to be involved, and it's hard to get other people to show up (or sign up) even when we have a fairly large crew of volunteers.

I am involved with a number of volunteer organisations in Port Alberni, and all of them seem to be on the verge of imploding.  Now, there are financial difficulties in the world (following the pandemic), and an awful lot of volunteer and charitable organisations are facing difficulties both with raising finances and with getting volunteers to put in work.  But it seems to be very much worse here in Port Alberni.  All of the groups that I'm working with can't get money, and are having trouble with their finances and budgets.  Funding grants from governments and other bodies are getting tighter.  But it's also true that it's getting really difficult to get volunteers to take on tasks.  I'm getting a pretty much constant barrage of email messages from pretty much all of the groups, begging for people to perform various activities.  Some of the duties I can take on, but I'm doing an awful lot of activities, and it's getting rather annoying as to how few of the other volunteers are willing to contribute to the activities.  Yes, there are people who prefer certain activities over others.  Yes, there are people who have preferred times that they will (or can) participate.  But, overall, very few people in the organisations are doing very much of anything.  Just simply knowing the number of calls that go out for specific activities; needed activities; *necessary* activities; activities that we should be doing as a matter of course; and seeing constant cries for help--well, it's annoying.  Not the calls for help.  But the fact the organisations *need* to put out those calls for help.  All of the organisations are in trouble, and the organisations are in trouble because nobody will put in much of any work.

(Port Alberni also has problems in that you cannot do *anything* any differently than it has always been done in the past.  Even if the needs have changed, even if the circumstances have changed, even if the situation has changed markedly and the activity needs to be changed or needs to be done in a new and different way, doing something new is a problem.  You have to do it in the same way that it has always been done.  It doesn't matter if the way that it has always been done, doesn't fit with the need.  [The truism that doing the same thing and expecting a different result is the very definition of insanity doesn't matter.]  The fact that this is the way we've always done it supersedes what actually needs to be done.  And if you find something that needs to be done, that hasn't been done before, Heaven help you.  There is absolutely no possible way to do that.)

Psalm 130:1

From the depths of my despair I call to you, Lord.

Telus

So, Telus representatives have been calling and offering me Internet, TV, and phone service bundles recently.  They keep on calling.  What they are offering sounds like a good deal.  Unfortunately, they won't confirm it.  I asked them to send me details of the offer.  They say that they will send me details of the offer.  Instead, what they send me is a bunch of marketing bumpf, which doesn't provide the prices that they quote me over the phone.

I run into Telus people at trade shows.  They offer me even better deals!  They offer me the terms that the telephone people offer me, but while the telephone people tell me that the federal government forbids them from offering me these prices on a long-term contract, the people at the trade shows say that yes, they can offer me this pricing for a longer term!  So I ask them to send me the details!

And they don't!

And there seems to be no way to get Telus to stop having the *same* people call me, and bother me ...

Romans 15:2

Each of us should please his neighbor for the good purpose of building him up.

Plans

I had a rough plan for today that involved a lot of walking.  Since I've been sick, I've been short on walking time.  But another event came along and made it difficult to accomplish the walking.  So that plan was out. 

I had another plan that included some trail work, but the trail crew has gone radio silent, so that plan was out.

So I had another plan based on getting some work done early, and then getting on with other things.  And I even woke up early enough that I can get a start on it.  But then, as I started up, there was something on Facebook to react to, and possibly develop.  So I made a note and put that aside.  But then there was *another* item to react to.  And it seemed to be more important than what I had planned to post.  So I reacted to and posted that, instead.  And then there was another thing to react to, and so I've made a note of the things that I had planned to do, but didn't get done, because these other things came along.

And I'm probably okay with that.  The things that I had planned aren't necessarily urgent, and I've made notes to myself, and I've got an awful lot of notes to myself buried in my email, but they're still there, and I may get to them eventually, but then if I don't, these other things may be more important.

Yes, I know that sticking to your own plans in the face of changing circumstances is foolish.  Yes, I've learned that lesson.  I've learned that what comes along, and is more important, is what you should do.  It's a little bit more difficult for me, because, after Gloria's death, it was difficult to get myself to do *anything*.  I had to set up some fairly rigorous structures, and plan my day, and plan my week, and even to a certain extent plan my months, so that I would do anything at all.  And these plans were important, and still are important, so that I don't just sit and do nothing.  But you have to recognize what is important, and what is *more* important.  It's not so much that "man plans and God laughs," or that "life is what happens when you're making other plans," as much as there's a continuum of importance, and you are constantly faced with the admittedly difficult task of figuring out where the things that come up are on that continuum.  And maybe the things that you had planned to do aren't as far along as what just pops up.

(By the way, I wrote this several days ago, and I'm only just getting around to posting it now ...)

Psalm 142:1-2

I call to the Lord for help;

    I plead with him.

I bring him all my complaints;

    I tell him all my troubles.

Viewing this QR code is perfectly safe

 

(Bearing in mind that I got my start in security researching malware, and know every *possible* way to trick people into running potentially unwanted software on their machines ...)

Genesis 2:18

Then the Lord God said, "I see that it is not good for man to be alone.  I will make the companion he needs, thus completing him."

MGG - 5.11 - HWYD - "The Chair"

I can't remember exactly when this happened. 

At the time I wasn't working full-time in information technology work.  I was going to all the trade shows and vendor presentations that I could come up with.  I do not know how I happened on this one particular group.  I did receive an invitation from them, and was interested in attending their event.  There wasn't much of a program, but there were some interesting vendors involved with them.  So I registered and went along. 

It was fully as interesting as I expected.  I was given a chance to talk in some detail with a number of vendors, and was impressed with the high calibre of the representatives from the vendors who were involved in this particular trade show.

As I went through the day, I heard various comments about "The Chair."  I did know that there were some door prizes.  One of the door prizes was a full entertainment system with a video camera, which at the time was impressively expensive.  But everyone was talking about "The Chair."  "Who do you think will win The Chair this year?"  "I hope I win The Chair."

The door prizes were displayed in one particular area, and I noted that the chair was an armchair with a recliner and foot rest, but, as far as I could tell, that was about it.  I stayed until the end, when the prizes were drawn.  Greatly to my surprise, I was the one who won the chair.  The chair was the first prize.

Then the organizers of the event got weird.  There were problems with delivery of the chair.  All of a sudden the group that had organized this event didn't want to award me the prize.

Even though they had invited me to this event, at this point, they decided that I wasn't really the type of person they were looking for at the event.  They balked at delivering the prize to me, and started requesting all kinds of details of information about my business. 

While all this was going on, I happened to receive a phone call from the shipping company which was delivering the chair.  They asked to confirm my address and whether I would be home at such and such a time in order to receive it.  I confirmed the address and the time.  They delivered the chair.  The next phone call I had from the organizers of this event, they were still loath to deliver the chair.  I told them that the chair had already been delivered.  That was the last I heard from them. 

Well, once "The Chair" was delivered, we found out why it was so special.  This was an early version of chairs that have subsequently become rather common, with back and leg massages and vibrations.  This chair even had a radio combined with a cassette system, and shipped with a cassette of "relaxing nature sounds."

When one son-in-law tried it, he decided it was extremely comfortable.  Until the point at which the nature sounds started playing the sound of a trickling brook.  At which point he decided that he immediately needed to go to the bathroom.

I still have "The Chair," and it still works just fine.  Visitors to our home, over the years, were introduced to it, and the grandchildren delighted in it.  (The greatgrandkids aren't quite of an age to be introduced to it, yet.)  It was Gloria's bed for several months when she broke her shoulder.  (When she needed to get up to go to the bathroom, she couldn't get out of it unaided.  So we made sure she always had the phone with her, and, when she needed to get up, she'd call my cell, and I'd come downstairs and help her to the bathroom.)  It has to be on the order of thirty-five years old, so the engineering and manufacturing was pretty solid.  I still use it every morning for my daily Bible readings, and sometimes sleep in it when my hip or back is acting up.

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-510-hwyd-church-business-analysis.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: TBA

Job 16:6

If I speak, my pain 

is not relieved; and if I 

refrain, does not leave.

Banana bereft

I have had a double shift with the Banana phone.  The Banana phone (of which I have spoken elsewhere) is the emergency support services dispatch phone.  The task is not arduous, but it is important.  Therefore, when we are on shift with the Banana phone, we have to keep it with us at all times.  The shifts are two weeks long, so, basically, I have been carrying the Banana phone for about a month.  And, of course, I have been carrying it with me everywhere.  It is the first thing that I put into the pocket of my dressing gown when I get up in the morning, and it is the last thing to be placed on the bedside table at night.  It goes with me to the bathroom.  It goes with me everywhere.  It is in my pocket at all times, unless it is within immediate reach. 

Now that I have finally turned the Banana phone over to the next holder, I am feeling oddly bereft.  Now I am down to carrying only two cell phones in my pocket, neither of which is as heavy, or as bulky, as the Banana phone.  I am no longer carrying an iPhone.  That was struck home to me today, when I went to do some testing with newer phones, in regard to QR codes.  I suddenly didn't have access to an iPhone for testing purposes.

So, my pocket is oddly light.  When I go to change, or otherwise empty out my pockets, I feel like I'm missing something, because the Banana phone isn't there.  As I mentally checking to make sure that I have everything with me, the Banana phone isn't there.  It has been a responsibility, and somewhat of an encumbrance, in my life for the past month.  And now that it's no longer a weight, and a drag, I am wondering what is missing ...

... none ...

 

James 3:10-11

Blessing and cursing come from the same mouth.  My brothers and sisters, it just shouldn’t be this way!  Both fresh water and salt water don’t come from the same spring, do they?

MGG - 5.10 - HWYD - church business analysis

After I got my degree, my father was very interested in doing a business analysis, with me, of our church. 

I should mention our church. I should mention Vancouver. It is a standing joke that nobody who actually lives in Vancouver was actually born there. I went to a job interview one time and as a little bit of small talk to brace the ice and make you feel more comfortable, they asked me where are you from. I said Vancouver. They said, no no, where were you born. Well, I was actually born in Vancouver. Not only that, but both my parents were also born in Vancouver. Not only that, but 75% of my grandparents were born in Vancouver. 

Partly as a result of this, I am the fifth generation, of my family, to become a member of the church. This is not only unusual in our church, but in any church in Vancouver. The pin that I have attesting to this fact was given to me when I was five years old, before I was baptized, and therefore before I was a member of the church. But I did get baptized, around about my twelth birthday, and, thus, did become a member. 

So, yes, both my father and myself were members of the church. And Dad, who was making a bit of a name for himself pioneering the use of computers in education administration in Vancouver, wanted us to do a business analysis of the church, with a view to getting the church involved in computers in ministry.

I foresaw a number of problems with this project. I was very hesitant to be involved. But Dad was very keen on the whole idea. So, I joined in, and, if I do say so myself, we did a bang-up job. Dad had the position, and credentials, in the church to get people to talk to us. We conducted more than 20 interviews, with people in a wide variety of ministry areas within the church. Dad took the lead in the interviews, as the person with the pole within the church. But I threw in the questions to find out what could, actually, be done in information processing in the various areas of ministry. I actually also wrote the report.

The final report recommended some twenty areas of ministry that could be assisted, and therefore some twenty computers, that would be needed, as well as a network, to tie them together, and facilitate the exchange of information between the different areas of ministry. We presented the report, and, predictably, the church created a computer committee to consider it. 

If I had been loath to do the systems analysis, I was doubly hesitant about being on the computer committee. I saw it as a conflict of interest, a rather gross conflict of interest. Since it was considering our report ( which was, you will recall, primarily my report. ) But dad, again, jumped in with both feet. Nothing much happened. So, once again, Dad wanted me to participate in the computer committee, and, once again, I acquiesced. 

I went to one committee meeting. The committee started to address the need for a church membership database. The committee got bombed down in consideration of whether the church membership database would have a birth date field. Some saw this as very useful. Others saw this as a gross invasion of privacy. I pointed out that this did not need to hold up consideration of the database as a whole, as a birth date field could be created, but then not populated until this decision had been finalized. No they had to decide about the birth date field, before they could go on with any other aspects of the church membership database. 

I quit the committee.

The committee continued to meet. Sporadically. This went on for some considerable time. At some point, the committee did tender and RFP, a request for proposal, and sent it to a variety of computer and networking vendors in the Vancouver area. It was based upon the recommendations from my report. Roughly twenty computers, and because of the price difference between MS-DOS computers, and Apple computers, at the time, it was based on MS-DOS computers.

Eventually, Dad informed me that the church computer committee had come to a decision. He told me the company that the tender had been given to. I was confused,. The tender had been granted to a company which was owned by one of the members of the church, and a company which, I knew, sold Apple computers exclusively. I questioned how the church was able to afford twenty Apple computers for the tender. Oh no, Dad informed me. The church member had been allowed to look at the other tenders, and, even though he had reduced his company's tender, to the point where it was the lowest bid, they were providing Apple computers, and they were only providing five.

I objected. On two grounds. First, it was a gross conflict of interest, to allow the church member, to see the other vendors tenders, and then to retender for his own company. Dad didn't see it that way. Dad didn't see that this was a conflict of interest. Dad didn't see that this was a gross breach of business ethics. Dad just saw that a church member was getting the business, and the church was getting a better price.

But I also objected on the basis of the reduction in the functionality of the tender. The five computers that were now to be purchased, would be used only, and solely, for Church administration. No other areas of ministry were to be addressed. No other areas of ministry were to benefit from the use of a computer. 

Dad didn't see this as a problem.

A few years later I got into the field of information security. Well, initially I got into the field of computer virus research. But it turns out that computer virus research is an excellent introduction to the field of information security in general. 

At that time, Gloria was working as a Church secretary, at a different Church. But our church, got very interested in a church membership database, tied to a simple bookkeeping package, that allowed you to track donations. ( Anytime you mention money, people get very interested. ) Fellow who was selling this particular package was doing a presentation in Seattle. So Dad asked me to come with him and attend the presentation. I did. 

We attended the presentation. We asked about security. Well, I asked about security. The developer said that the package was completely secure, since you had to use a password to access it. (He didn't mention anything about encryption.)  Dad was very happy about this program, and ready to recommend it to the church computer committee, despite the fact that it required an MS-DOS computer, and the church only had Apples. 

However, I had inside information, in a sense. I knew that the church where Gloria was church secretary used this church database and bookkeeping program. Gloria was not given access to the database and bookkeeping program. Only the church clerk (who deals with membership) and the accountant (who deals with the bookkeeping) had passwords and accounts to access the database and bookkeeping program.

But, I had been helping Gloria, at certain times, with certain computer programs and problems. In doing this I had found out a few things about the database and bookkeeping program. It was written in dbase. dBase has a standard, and fairly compatible, and accessible, database structure. I didn't need to run the database and bookkeeping program. I can figure out, from the file names, which parts of the database stored what, and for what purpose. And, I could read everything. I could, if I wanted to, read anything in the database, and anything in the donation files. I could look up any information the church had about anybody. I look good look up anybody's donations. I didn't, but I could have.

I informed the church committee of our church about these facts. I don't know what happened, and I don't know what any discussions were, but I do know that the church continued to use databases which they threw together themselves with simple user tools.

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-509-hwyd-masters.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-511-hwyd-chair.html

Psalm 88:18

You have taken my

lover, closest companion;

my friends avoid me.

Not listening

Even when he's doing something complimentary, such as thanking you for something, he still can't listen to you.  Can't be bothered to take the time to listen to you, even if only for a few minutes.  Why is that?

Job 16:2,3

I have heard many things like these; you are miserable comforters, all of you!  Will your long-winded speeches never end?

Even bannock is culturally invasive ...

So, he was speaking to a group primarily focussed on improving relations with, and the situation of, the First Nations, and he stressed the idea of bread, and using this idea to guide our discussions, because bread is so universal.  All cultures have some form of bread.

In fact, not all cultures *do* have some form of bread, and the West Coast First Nations are one of those who don't, at least, not originally.  I mean, I love bannock and fry bread, and they are delicious, but they are not original.  They were introduced once we started trying to repair the damage we had caused by limiting hunting and gathering, and tried to replace that nutritionally diverse supply with barrels of flour.  (It's probably a partial cause of the obesity and diabetes crisis.  But we'll leave that, for the moment.)  Bread is common in agricultural societies, but not in pastoral or hunter-gatherer situations.  The west coast has no native cereal grains and, while it has some starchy root vegetables, they are primarily roasted, rather than ground into a flour.

So stressing bread as a universal, to this demographic, is ironic, and more than slightly culturally insensitive ...

Romans 8:38-39

Of this I am sure, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any creature, shall separate us from the love of God, in Jesus Christ our Lord!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HlBdtfqc5tg

MGG - 5.09 - HWYD - masters

After I got fired, I went and took a masters degree.

Oh, haven't I done that? Oh well. 

I had, even before I got my first teaching job, being interested in computers in education. Not just teaching about computers, but using computers to teach, or to assist the education process, or processes. I had gone to the world Conference on computers in education. I had been exposed to some interesting aspects of the use of computers in education. As one example, the use of a computer; an Apple ][+ computer, no less; to grade, and mark, and even to tutor, students in composition for a master's program in music. This was being done in 1981. It's rather depressing to note the sorry state of the use of computers in education now, forty years later, when such things were already being done, with very minimally capable machines, in comparison to what we have now, back then. 

I had subscribed to a magazine called The Computing Teacher. It was produced by a fellow who ran a masters program, in computer education, at the University of Oregon. I well remember one of the editorials that he wrote, in one of the issues, which said that, regardless of your skill or background in computer technology, you had the jump on 95% of your colleagues, simply because you subscribed to this magazine, and were therefore more aware of what was going on in the field.

So, when I got fired, I drove down to Oregon and talked to him. I explained that I had enough money to take the program for a contiguous year. Could I finish the program, I asked, in one year? Yes, he said, that was doable.

So, I packed up my stuff, got an education visa, and drove down to the University of Oregon. After a couple of false starts I found a place to stay. I got registered for the first semester, which was the summer semester. There weren't enough courses in the program for me to fill enough credit hours to keep going and finish in one year, so I was taking some traditional information systems courses. For example, I registered for a course in database management. I learned an awful lot from that course. One of the things that I learned, by taking the course ( it wasn't actually taught in the course ), was that every program, regardless of what it is, is either involved with database management, or with numeric processing. Or with both. I still suggest to anyone, taking any program in any field of information technology, to take a course in database management. It is one of the fundamentals, the absolute fundamentals, of information systems and processing.

When I came to the end of the semester, I suddenly realized that I had been lied to. No further courses were going to be given in the computers in education program until the following summer. So I went to the manager of the program, laid out this problem, and asked what I was to do. He said that I could take whatever courses related to information technology I could get into.

I had, of course, no prerequisites for any of the standard information systems courses or computer technology. So I found any courses that were even dimly related to the field, went to the professors, and begged to get into the courses. None of the professors for the standard computer technology courses what allow me into their courses without the prerequisites. The only ones who would let me into their courses, were those who are teaching non-standard courses, in topics which they themselves loved, but which were not, strictly speaking, part of computer technology and information processing as it was then seen. Therefore, I could only take these rather oddball courses. I took a course on human factors engineering. I took a course, taught by a professor from the physics department, and intended primarily for engineering students, on microprocessor interfacing and machine language programming. I took courses on artificial intelligence programming, of various types. ( And there are many different types of artificial intelligence programming. )

I made it through, just by the skin of my teeth, and got my masters degree. I have a degree as a Master of Computer and Information Science Education.  I use this to justify my filling in the "profession" field on government forms as an "Information Scientist."

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-508-hwyd-accountant.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-510-hwyd-church-business-analysis.html

Psalm 51:17

A broken spirit is my sacrifice, God.  You won’t despise a heart, God, that is broken and crushed.

MGG - 5.08 - HWYD - accountant

There was one other interesting situation with regard to this particular company.  Shortly after that event, they shut down that particular camp, as the falling have been completed, but the arrangement for the helicopter yarding had not been done.  The accountant for the company decided that he wanted to be a programmer, and computer operator, as they were putting in a new accounting system.  So, as I had been acting as a bookkeeper at the camp, it was decided that I would fill his position as accountant, at least in so far as posting payments to relevant accounts, in the head office in Squamish, while he drove every day to Surrey, to the head office of the company that owned the logging company, in order to play around with the computer.

This meant that rather than living in the logging camp, I was back in Vancouver.  And I was driving from Vancouver to Squamish everyday, on the old Sea-to-Sky Highway.  Now it was a lot of fun driving the old Sea-to-Sky Highway, before they ruined it for the 2010 Olympics, but it still took an hour and a half to drive.  And, of course, there was the fact that they were no longer paying my room and board.  So, noting all of these facts, and the fact that the secretary in the office in Squamish wanted to go to a four-day work week, plus the fact that they had a crew working in Squamish that needed to be sent off early in the morning and checked in at night, we worked out that I would count my driving time as work time, I would have three hours of driving time per day, and ten hours of office time per day, in order to cover the needs of the office.  The secretary would switch from an eight-hour day to a ten-hour day, and work four days a week.  We thought that this addressed a number of needs, and was a pretty good arrangement.

Unfortunately, while it worked out very well for several weeks, when the accountant was made aware of it, he decided that he couldn't stand the thought of somebody working only three days a week.  However, he could see that it was unfair to ask me, in addition to losing room and board, to add all that travel time, and so my travel time was still to be included as work time.  Unfortunately, this meant that there really wasn't an awful lot of time to cover the office for the secretary, and therefore she was back to working five days a week, and the company was back to not having anyone to send the work crew off in the morning, and check them back in at night.  The inefficiencies caused by people who are looking to make work more efficient.

(While I was working as the accountant, I had to post various bills to various accounts.  This involved a fair amount of detective work, since nobody ever noted what a particular bill was for.  I therefore ran into the fact that the owners of the company were writing off an awful lot of personal expenses, that had absolutely nothing to do with the company's operations and business, and were hiding them in a variety of the accounts within the company.)

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-507-hwyd-copters.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-509-hwyd-masters.html

Philippians 1:23

I long to die and go to be with Christ, and that is obviously the best thing for me.

MGG - 5.07 - HWYD - copters

At another camp, I actually had a guy drop a tree on himself.  This was in a helicopter logging operation, where only the falling was going on while I was there: they hadn't started the actual helicopter yarding.

The fallers were taken out every morning by helicopter.  They were dropped in their locations, and were basically out there alone all day, cutting down trees.  Because of this, the procedure was that they had to be checked every hour by helicopter.  So, once an hour, on the hour, the helicopter pilot would head out and check on them.

It was a fairly boring duty, so the helicopter pilot was glad to have me along for any of the check flights.  (I love, and have always loved, helicopters, even though I know that fixed wing pilots define them as 50,000 random parts in loose orbit around an oil leak.)  I would just ride along with him, enjoying a bit of a break and a helicopter ride, and we could chat a bit while he was checking out the fallers.  The fallers didn't exactly cooperate with this process: for one thing they possibly couldn't even hear the helicopter when it was in the area, and so they didn't always come out and show themselves.  Then there was the fellow that follow who decided to finish cutting his tree before coming out and identifying himself.  Because the helicopter pilot couldn't see him he was flying lower and lower in the area where the faller was working, and when the tree finally came down, it fell right beside us in the helicopter, and missed us by less than ten feet.

And, as noted, one of the fallers managed to drop a tree on himself while they were doing this falling operation.  This was reported by radio, and, of course, I headed out with the pilot to pick the guy up.  He was not badly injured, and was even ambulatory, but he was very sore.

We headed out and picked him up.  Having picked him up and secured him between us in the helicopter, we headed directly back to camp.  As we were doing so, we came over a ridge and almost down onto the blades of another helicopter.  Our pilot hauled up on the controls, and managed not to land on the spinning blades of the other helicopter.  He was swearing at the other pilot, and when he cooled down sufficiently, thought that possibly the other pilot simply had not known the flight that we were on and the situation we were facing.

The other helicopter was, in fact, coming to visit our camp, and so we did find out a bit more of their story.  They *did* know that we were flying in the area, and they did know that we were picking up an injured faller.  They seemed to think that hiding behind a ridge, on the direct line between the camp and the falling area, was the best way to avoid a collision.

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-506-hwyd-first-aid-training.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-508-hwyd-accountant.html

Job 1:7, 2:2, 1 Peter 5:8

Wandering to and 

fro upon the face of the 

earth, consuming all ...

Isaiah 57:1

The righteous one perishes, but no one takes it to heart. Men of mercy are being taken away, but no one understands that the righteous one is being spared from evil.

MGG - 5.06 - HWYD - first aid training

In first aid, I never had to do deal too much with terribly disastrous injuries.  There was the time that a fellow had a log dropped on the back of his leg, tearing the muscle tissue off the back of his leg, and necessitating a quite extensive bandaging job before he could be shipped out, but that was probably about the worst.

Other issues probably sound worse, but didn't involve a lot of treating or bandaging.  Such as the time that a guy rolls a log over on himself.

No I'm not saying that it wasn't serious: it was.  This is a major issue, and involved an immediate flight out, but it didn't involve an awful lot of treatment, on my part.

I got a call from the foreman, who sounded quite panicked.  He didn't give me an awful lot of details, only that a log was involved, and that someone was unconscious.  This was in a camp where there were two of us first aid attendants, so I went and got the other one, who was, in fact, under the weather and trying to get a bit of sleep, woke him up, and told him I was heading out to a situation in the bush.  I took the ambulance and drove out.

By the time I got to the location, the foreman was looking a bit sheepish.  He was feeling that he had overreacted, because the person who had rolled the log over on himself had woken up, and, in fact, walked himself back up the hill.  The foreman was thinking that this was a minor issue, and that there was actually no problem.  I had a look at the person who had rolled the log over on himself, and as soon as I saw that his pupils were unequal sizes, I knew that we had a serious situation.  I got on the radio and reported, to the other first aid attendant, a possible case of compression.  I put the patient down on the stretcher, strapped him in, and headed off.  The foreman came along, still trying to assure me that he had probably overreacted and there was no need to go to all this furor.

By the time we got back to the camp, other first aid attendant had contacted a float plane for an emergency evacuation, had packed his own bags to accompany the patient, and the float plane had arrived.  We bundled the patient into the plane, the other first aid attendant got on, and the plane took off.

The foreman was still of the opinion that this was much ado about nothing.  He made some comment about the other first date attendant having wangled himself a free night off in town.  I told him that it wasn't an overreaction.  There was a significant possibility that something would happen on the flight out, that the other first day the tenant would have to deal with, and the pilot would be unable to handle things.  For example, I said, the patient could lose consciousness again, he might vomit, and then the first aid attendant would have to clear his air passages, otherwise he would drown on the trip.  The pilot would be unable to deal with any significant needs for the safety of the patient.  The foreman obviously thought that I was just supporting my colleague, and equally obviously didn't believe that anything significant could happen.

As it turned out, there was another flight out to the camp that night, and so the other first aid attendant returned that evening.  As soon as he landed, the foreman, obviously still of the opinion that this had all been a tempest in a teapot, twitted him about having arranged a free flight to town, and then not even being able to take advantage of it for even one night.

Oh, no, replied the other first aid attendant.  He went unconcious, he threw up, I had to clear his airway, it was extremely difficult the whole flight.  I just barely got cleaned up in time to catch the other flight.

The foreman looked rather confused.  He obviously still thought that this was a put up job, and that I had just been supporting my colleague, when noting what could go on.  But, he knew that we hadn't had a chance to talk at all since the other first aid attendant got off the plane.  He couldn't figure out how we had arranged to have our stories agree so perfectly.  The fact that we both knew the situation better than he did never apparently occurred to him.

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-505-hwyd-alcohol.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-507-hwyd-copters.html

Psalm 33:4

God’s word is true.  Everything he does is right.

MGG - 5.05 - HWYD - alcohol

Over the years, I have worked on various work crews.  I have worked on the railroad.  I have worked for falling crews, I have worked for spacing crews.  I have worked on trail building crews.  This was when I was working summer jobs to get enough money for university.  Latterly it was mostly first aid.  Often bookkeeping tended to be appended to that.  At one particular logging company, as first aid attendants, we were not only the bookkeepers and timekeepers, but also managers of the company "store."

Over the years, with regard to the various work camps, I have noted, quite frequently, that those who came in to work hungover in the morning (having been drinking considerable quantities of alcohol the night before), make the statement (almost inevitably), "I had a great time last night because," either a) "I'm sick as a dog this morning," or b) "I can't remember what I did last night."

I never understood the logic of those statements. 

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-504-hwyd-obstetrics.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-506-hwyd-first-aid-training.html

Romans 5:3-4

More than that, we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.

MGG - 5.04 - HWYD - obstetrics

In regard to first aid, I should possibly mention that I have taken obstetrics training.  Well, that may be pushing the reality of it a bit.  The obstetrics was not actually part of our first aid training, but, in later years when a professional association had been created, it was the topic of our first meeting.  We had an obstetrician, who outlined the process, the possible difficulties we might face, and the fact that a breech birth is not the end of the world.

He recounted a story that has been told by the author of the "Doctor in the House" books.  When he, the author, was taking his medical training, there was always one in every class.  That is, someone who everyone knew was simply there to get the doctorate, but would not be endangering anyone by actually practicing.  This would be someone from a wealthy, and possibly titled, family, and wanted to have a bit more to his name then simply the money and/or title.  Everybody knew the way the game was played, the faculty marked his exams somewhat languidly, and the rest of the class helped this person to study, as a means of doing their own studying.  Teaching someone else is always the best way to ensure that you know the subject.  As I say, everyone was well aware that this person would never practice, and would therefore never endanger anyone.

But there was one thing that everybody, all medical students, had to do on their own.  This was attending midwifery duty.  Everyone had to attend a birth, but, equally, everyone knew that the midwife would be there, and that generally nothing untoward would happen.

So, the day approached.  The others in his class asked this particular person if he wanted them to come along with him.  No, he said, this has been happening for thousands of years, perfectly natural, normal part of everyday life, and, in any case, the midwife would be there.  Okay, thought his fellows.

And on the specific evening in question, they again proposed that they attend with him.  No no, he said, perfectly natural, normal part of everyday life.  So off he went.  His colleagues waited by the phone, in case there was a panic stricken phone call.

There was no phone call, and eventually this person returned, took off his coat, and sat down to the card game that had been in process when he had been summoned.  "So, any problems?" his fellows asked?  No, no, he replied, perfectly natural, normal part of everyday life, been happening for thousands of years.  So, possibly the midwife took care of everything?  No no said this person, and it was a piece of cake.  The midwife didn't show up until everything was done and dusted.

So they shrugged, and got on with the card game.  The phone rang again, and this time they didn't even offer.  He left, and five minutes later there was a desperate phone call: "Come on you guys, I need you!"  The person who answered the call couldn't help getting a bit of his own back.  "I thought this was a perfectly natural, normal part of everyday life, and it's been happening for thousands of years."  "That's all very well," said the person on the phone, "but this bloody baby's coming out head first!"

Head first of course, is the normal position for childbirth.  It also means that the first baby had been a breech birth, and that this, the least well-trained of all his fellows in the class, had delivered a breech birth acceptably.

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-503-hwyd-racists.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-505-hwyd-alcohol.html

Job 13:5

If only you would be altogether silent!  For you, that would be wisdom!

MGG - 5.03 - HWYD - racists?

In nursing, possibly more than any other field, you tend to work with people from quite a variety of national and ethnic backgrounds.  This was definitely the case on our ward.  We had South Asian nurses, we had Chinese nurses and orderlies, we had Filipino nurses and orderlies: we had everybody.

Interestingly, on some wards we would see the various ethnic groups banding together into tiny cliques.  This wasn't the case on our ward, for a variety of reasons.  For one thing, we had a nurse who actually was Chinese, but, apparently, looked Filipino.  The Chinese nurses wouldn't talk to her because she looked Filipino.  The Filipino nurses wouldn't talk to her because she *was* Chinese.  So, she had to hang out with us white folks.

The same was true of a South Asian nurse, who spoke English well, but with the thickest Scottish brogue you've ever heard.  She was from a wealthy, high caste, family.  Because they were wealthy, she had had a nanny, and the nanny had been from Scotland.  Hence the Scottish brogue.  She was high caste, so she wouldn't talk with any of the other South Asian nurses, who were lower caste.  Again, she had to hang out with us white folks.

There was a Spanish orderly.  (I suppose I should mention that there was also a Spanish nurse.  When she found out that I was a college student, she insisted on calling me professore.)  Anyway, the Spanish orderly (and he was from Spain, rather than just being Hispanic) was named Virgilio.  Everyone else just called him Virgil, but I, knowing the various corruptions on my name that people address me by, tried to pronounce it correctly.  Every time I did, he started speaking to me in Spanish, until he remembered who he was talking to and switched back to English.

I managed to get some specialized training, by working on specialty wards, at Shaughnessy.  First of all, I did some time in isolation.  I learned about gloving, and gowning, and cleaning wounds, and sometimes dressing wounds, although we didn't have terribly difficult cases.  We didn't have any rare diseases, and in those dim and distant days we didn't have much worry about antibiotic resistant bacteria.

We did have some guys from the intermediate and extended care awards, who had developed bed sores, aka pressure sores or decubitus ulcers, from not moving frequently enough when lying in bed for long periods of time.  If those wounds opened, and became infected, they ended up in isolation, and we had to be careful about dressing, keeping them away from other infections, and keeping other patients away from their infections.

One of the guys from one of the extended care awards was a bit of a joker.  One day, when I came to get him up, he swung his one and a half legs over the bed, having previously put his prosthetic leg in the bed, and announced to me that he already had one foot in the grave.  On another occasion, he told me that he was a veteran of two wars.  "Oh," I said, in the full flush of my youthful ignorance, "the First World War and the Second World War?"  No, he said, the Boer War and the First World War.

On isolation, we did, one time, get a rather non-standard patient: a young lady who had been riding with her boyfriend in an open sports car, and, when he had an accident, had been thrown from the car and suffered quite extensive brush burns, which meant she had large areas of open wounds, and was therefore on isolation to prevent them from collecting any infections.  One day as I was walking down the hallway, I heard a loud yell of "No, no, no, no, no!"  I realized that it was coming from her room, from which, shortly thereafter, the head nurse exited with a huge grin on her face.  As we passed, she told me that she had been examining the young lady's wounds, and reassuring her that they had healed without much in the way of scarring.  The young lady was quite relieved, since she had been concerned about having scars on her back side which might not look terribly well in a bikini.  The head nurse had immediately replied that, no, she had seldom seen such a lovely rear end.  But, being no particular expert in that field, she wondered if the young lady wanted to get an expert opinion, and offered to call the young orderly with the beard.  (That would be me.)  Hence the scream horrified scream of "No, no, no, no!"

Shaughnessy also got the spinal cord unit, the first time that the province had one.  I worked a number of shifts on that ward, on a float basis, when they were short staffed.  I had some interesting experiences, particularly shaving male patients who were having surgery in particular areas.  I also picked up a lot of information about how to properly care for, and transport, spinal cord patients, which stood me in good stead when, subsequently, I had to rescue a camper, who had actually broken his neck diving into a shallow area of the lake, and transport him from the beach, to the hospital.  At the hospital, the doctor on duty at the emergency ward, because the patient showed no loss of sensation or mobility, pooh-poohed my suggestion that he had, in fact, broken his neck--until they took an x-ray which proved that, yes, his neck was, in fact, broken.

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/03/mgg-502-hwyd-dead-patients.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-504-hwyd-obstetrics.html

Isaiah 46:4

Til your old age I will be the same — I will carry you until your hair is white.  I have made you, and I will bear you; yes, I will carry and save you.

Sermon 22 - Grief Illiteracy (and series intro)

Sermon 22 - Grief Illiteracy (and series intro)

Amos 3:6

If a disaster occurs in a city, hasn’t the Lord done it?

We live in a grief illiterate society.  We cannot talk about grief.  Therefore we don't understand grief.  We can't talk about death.  Death is the last taboo.  We can talk about all kinds of other things: we can talk about sex, we can talk about drugs, we can talk about perversions, but we can't talk about death.

(There's actually a movement to develop what are called Death Cafes.  This isn't grief counseling: it's just a place, a safe space, to talk about death.  To talk about all aspects of death.  I've been to some of these Death Cafes, and they are absolutely delightful.  The people who come are thoughtful and reasonable.  Although it is not supposed to be about grief counselling, at every meeting that I have attended someone who has lost something important has shown up.  Those who attend are always interested in the person who is grieving, interested in their grief, interested in their life and their lost loved one.  Those who are bereaved obtain an awful lot of comfort from these Death Cafes, which, I may remind you once again, are not about grief counseling, or comforting grievers.  It's just supposed to be a place to talk about death.

One other interesting thing about the Death Cafes is that they make a big deal about having candy, or cookies, or some other sweet treat available for the meeting.  This, so the official website states, is to remind people of the sweetness of life.  But, I didn't intend to talk about Death Cafes in this sermon.  I'm talking about death.)

We avoid even saying the word dead.  There is the "Dead Parrot" sketch, from the Monty Python group, which, at one major part in the sketch, consists of a long list of euphemisms for dead.  All the terms that we have invented, so that we don't have to say the word "dead."

After Gloria died, a friend, who is from another culture, visited me after some considerable time during which we hadn't seen each other.  He asked after Gloria.  "She died," I said.  His, somewhat bemused, reply was, "I think you are the only person that I have ever heard, in North America, use the word 'dead'."

So, now that I have thoroughly upset you, by using the word dead so many times, what is the point that I am trying to make with this sermon?  Well, we don't understand about death.  We can't talk about it.  We don't allow those who are bereaved to talk about it.  Since Gloria died, I feel like I have lost all of my friends, because all of them are completely and absolutely terrified that I will mention Gloria, or death, or grief, or pain.  None of them will talk to me, just in case I mentioned any of those things.  We can't talk about death.

Gloria's death was not my first grief rodeo.  I lost my favorite cousin when I was age seven.  I lost my sister when I was fifteen.  She was twelve.  I remember that I didn't understand what I was supposed to be doing in terms of grieving.  I wanted to talk about Fiona, and Fiona's death.  And absolutely nobody, nobody in the church, none of my friends, nobody anywhere would talk about Fiona's death.  Or just death itself.  That is a taboo subject.

But if we don't talk about death, if we don't discuss death, if we don't think about death, then how can we understand it?  And if we don't understand death, how can we understand Jesus' death?  And his death, and resurrection, are absolutely vital to our faith.

We also, as noted, don't understand grief.  And if we don't understand grief, how can we understand God's grief, over Jesus' death?  How can we understand God's grief over *our* deaths?  Over every death, of every human being, who ever lived?  Do you think that God does not grieve our deaths?  Remember, death was not part of the original plan.  If Adam and Eve had stuck to pomegranates and grapes and figs, we wouldn't be in this mess.  Death came into the world because of sin.  Sin, at a time when, as the old joke has it, you had one job!  Don't eat the apple!

We live in a grief-illiterate society.  We don't talk about grief in our society.  We don't like to talk about grief.  We don't like to talk about death.  We don't like to talk about pain.  This is true in our society, and it is *particularly* true in our churches and Christian life.

We think that God blesses us if we do good.  We believe this, and the "Prosperity Gospel" has become almost an article of faith for many of us.  God does say that he will bless us, but he also says that he disciplines us, and teaches us, and sometimes blessings don't come in the way we think.    And, therefore, if we do not feel particularly blessed, we seem to feel we have not done well: that we have sinned.  And that that is the reason that we are not doing well, or feeling good.  So not feeling good tends to leave us with the impression, either with ourselves or with others, that we have not lived up to the Christian expectations.  We have not lived up to the Christian ideal.  We have sinned and that is why we are having problems, if we are having problems.  Therefore the indication is that we have sinned.  If we feel bad, we have sinned.  It is our own fault.

We particularly believe this about other people.  

This is rather ironic, since the church is a place where one would expect that you can come for comfort.  Yet, if we ask for comfort, the implication tends to be that we have failed.  That we have sinned, that we have not done as we ought to have done.  If we are looking for comfort, we are somehow at fault.

Therefore when we come looking for comfort in the church or in the Christian community, we may end up feeling even worse.  Because we are told that we do not have enough faith.  Or that we haven't "fully" given our lives to God, somehow.  Or that we have sinned, somehow.  This is what Job's friends told him.  This is why we have the phrase "Jobs comforters."  And they were, in fact, wrong.  Very wrong.  God told them so.  Job 42:7 - "After the Lord had spoken these things to Job, He said to Eliphaz the Temanite, “My anger is stirred up against you and your two friends, because you have not spoken about me what is right, as my servant Job has."

And every time I think of this, I can't help thinking of 2 Corinthians 1:4 - "He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God."  What pain have *we* not been comforted for, if we can't comfort others?

But this is not the only reason that we avoiding talking about death.  And grief, and pain.  And in the Christian church this is wrong.  We need to understand death.  We need to understand grief.  We need to understand pain.  We need to understand suffering.  The Christian message has death at its very centre.

Actually, multiple deaths.  There is our death, our deserved death, as a result of our sin.

Then there is the death of Jesus.  Jesus did *not* deserve death.  But died to pay the penalty for our sin, taking our deserved death on Himself, who was undeserving of death.

We need to understand death.  Yes, death is important to the Christian life. 

And we need to understand grief.  Need to grieve our own sin.  We need to grieve the death of Jesus.  We need to grieve our sin as the necessity for Jesus' death.

We need to understand grief.

Grief teaches you a number of things about the Christian life and the important concepts on which Christianity is built.

In Glen's GriefCare program, he asks those attending to fill out a loss rank and impact chart, as an exercise.  It points out that there are different types of loss, and different types of grief.  I lost my cousin, my sister, my grandparents, and parents, and friends, and Gloria.  But I also lost position and status when I moved to take up a job.  I lost respect for my father when he made an unethical business decision (ironically, supposedly in support of the church).  I lost a lot of money when I had to make a moral stand against some underhanded practices.  But in doing the exercise, I also realized how important those losses were in teaching me lessons that I needed.

When Gloria died I lost my best friend, I lost the person I most wanted to talk to at any time.  I recently came across a Biblical passage, in Proverbs, about enjoying your wife.  One version translated it as saying, "and when you wake in the morning, she will talk with you."  One of the aspects of my grief since Gloria died is that I have no one to talk to: certainly not the person that I most want to talk with.  I lost my friend and wife, but, since I had been Gloria's caregiver for about a decade, I also lost my job.  I lost my schedule.  Our daily schedule was much determined by Gloria's medications, the need to take them with or without food, and the need to have minimum times between taking some combinations of them.  When Gloria died, I lost my schedule.  I lost my reason for *any* schedule.  Interestingly, this also meant that I lost any idea of a weekly or monthly schedule, and I had to build systems to remind myself to do things like washing the bed sheets and paying the rent.

My life ended.  Really, it felt like that.  My life had ended.  I had no purpose.  I had died.  And yet I am still alive.  And what I am doing now is not rebuilding a life as much as building a completely new life.

Doesn't that sound like what we talk about in terms of Christianity?  Dying to self?

And that is only one of many lessons.

We need to understand about pain.  Pain is used to alert us to the fact that something is wrong.  That something needs to be fixed.

It is possible, of course, that we need to correct someone, and that they have sinned and that we need to identify that to, and for, them.  However, it is not as common as we seem to think that this is what we need to do.  It is much more likely that we need to comfort the afflicted, rather than correct them.  Most people are more in need of comfort than correction.  Well, unless they're sinners, of course.  But the sin is very often a sin of omission.  Such as, for example, failing to comfort someone.  Instances of necessary correction are much less frequent than we seem to think.  We would like to be the instruments of correction.  We would like to be the ones who are right.  We would like to be the ones who guide the fallen.  We would like that, because that indicates that we are smarter than they, or more holy than they, or more righteous than they, or more knowledgeable about God than they are.

But it's more likely that *we* are sinning by assuming that we know more than they do, and that what they need is correction rather than comfort.

We need to understand about pain.  Pain is necessary to life.  Pain is used to alert us to the fact that something is wrong.  That something needs to be repaired.  That something needs to be fixed.  That something needs to be healed.  That's *another* reason that we need to comfort more than we need to correct.  We may need to correct someone.  Someone's pain may be because of their own sin or their own choices.  But we need to comfort them enough, to heal them enough, to give them the strength to make better choices.  To identify and acknowledge their own sin.  That takes strength.  It takes energy.  And those who are in pain may not have the energy to make those necessary changes.  We need to give them comfort so that they can come to the point of making the changes that they need to make.  If they are sinning, they are broken.  If they are broken, they need our help, not our condemnation.

Yes, sometimes pain is to alert us to the fact that something is wrong.  But not always.  Unfortunately, sometimes pain simply happens.  Sometimes pain is random.  Sometimes pain is meaningless.  If you have shingles, what sin did you commit?  What lifestyle choice did you make that resulted in shingles?  It's not a matter of sin.  It just happened.  If it happened and it causes pain for you, it is not alerting you to the fact that anything is wrong.  Other than the fact that your nerves are infected.

And, of course, the alert that shingles gives you is out of all proportion to our abilities to correct it.  So, why do we have this type of pain?  Well, maybe it's just presenting those of us who do *not* have the pain with an opportunity to help the sufferers.  Maybe this is what we are supposed to do.  And maybe, in *not* comforting those who are afflicted, we are, in fact, sinning because God wants us to comfort the afflicted, and we aren't.

In fact, many people in our churches are afraid of hearing that *anyone* is in difficulty or discomfort.  It is contrary to our beliefs in what we assume is God's provision for us, and may even threaten our faith.  If someone is facing a serious difficulty, through no fault of their own, that is not easily overcome with a few Bible verses or cliches, and if this person has not sinned and yet is in discomfort or in trouble, this threatens belief in the prosperity gospel.  And in our belief that God will bless us if we do good things and don't do bad things. 

In one of the movies on my list for the Jesus Film Festival, there is a very interesting take on the temptation of Christ.  The Tempter suggests that Jesus turn stones into bread in order to feed those who are starving.  As well as the standard Biblical reference, the film script has Jesus respond that people are hungry because of the hearts of stone of other men.  I think it's not only poetic, but a very important point.

We need to understand death.  We need to understand grief.  We need to understand pain.  We need to understand how it affects us.  And that means that we need to acknowledge it when it does happen.  We need to learn lessons from grief.  The lessons about dying to ourselves.  The lessons about the need to comfort others. 

There is a trueism that you should learn from other people's mistakes, because you're never going to live long enough to make all of them yourself.  What I want to tell you is related to, but slightly different from that.  I'm grieving.  I am suffering and in pain because of the loss of my wife.  I am learning about grief.  I am also a systems analyst.  So if I am going to grieve, I am going to learn everything possible about grief.  I have been studying grief.

My grief is not because I have made a mistake.  But I have suffered a loss.  It wasn't my fault.  But it is painful, and I'm suffering.

Learn from my grief, in this series of sermons.  I want you to benefit from my pain.  I am suffering.  There is nothing I can do about that.  (We'll talk about that point.  Yes, you may think you can argue about it.  We'll discuss that later.)  There is nothing I can do about my pain.  But what I *can* do is possibly reduce the total suffering on earth by providing you with the benefit of my experience and my study.  These sermons are the result of a lot of pain and suffering on my part, and a lot of work, research and study.  Learn from them.  Benefit from them.  Take the lessons and apply them.  Help yourselves and help others.  I am in pain, but if you learn from my pain, you will hopefully reduce the total suffering on earth.  You will provide love to your neighbours.

You may even understand God a bit better. 

Grief series

Sermon 22 - Grief Illiteracy

Sermon 4 - Grief and Dying to Self

https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/01/sermon-4-grief-and-dying-to-self.html

Sermon 7 - faith and works, and intuitive vs instrumental grief

https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/02/sermon-7-faith-and-works-and-intuitive.html

Sermon 10 - Why Job

https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/03/sermon-10-why.html

Proverbs 26:20

No wood?  Fire goes out.

And where there is no gossip, 

contention ceases.

MGG - 5.02 - HWYD - dead patients

I dealt with various staff, and various supervisory staff, in my time nursing.  I worked on one particularly difficult ward, where the head nurse was very difficult to live with, or to work for.  At one point she took one of the shift sheets, and marked on it all the sick days that people had taken.  This indicated two things quite clearly.  The first was that, yes, people were taking sick days to extend their weekends and break times.  The fact that she did it also indicated why they were doing that.

It wasn't a great place to work.  She wasn't a good person to work for.  We tried, in small ways, to keep our own spirits up, and keep up with the work.  Other factors impinged on us as well.  When I had started working, there was half an hour overlap between the shifts, so that we could report to the incoming shift on the status of the patients, and any particular difficulties that they might face on their shift.  However, this meant that staff were being paid for non-nursing time.  The powers-that-be decided that this was a waste of money, and so created a system where the supervisor for the shift would record, on a tape recorder, the report about the patients, and that the incoming shift supervisor would listen to that report in order to determine any changes.  Our hours for the shifts were reduced, accordingly, to a strict eight hour period.

I, of course, with my unfortunate sense of inappropriate humor, saw an opportunity.  On one evening shift, I waited until the shift supervisor had recorded her report, and then rolled the tape back allowing myself time to create my own report, prior to hers.  Using the collection of euphemisms from the Monty Python dead parrot sketch, I killed off the entire ward.

When I came on shift the next evening, the head nurse tore a strip off me.  She let me know, and no uncertain terms, that nobody had found this funny, that it had upset everyone very greatly, and it was completely inappropriate to our work.  I felt terrible.  I had no intention of upsetting my coworkers.  I felt badly all shift, and stayed on until some of this night shift workers started to show up.  I went to one of the orderlies and explained that I was sorry, that I had intended it as a joke, and that I was very sorry to have upset everyone.  "What are you talking about?" he asked.  "We just about died laughing."  Okay, that wasn't what I had been told, so I waited for the shift supervisor to come on.  I explained to her that I was very sorry, that it was supposed to have been a joke, that it was I was sorry that it had not been funny.

"We absolutely howled!" she said.  "When I first started listening to it, and the first person was said to have died, I was sorry about that.  And then the second person?  I thought that was really awful that two people died on the shift.  And then there was a third! By the time you reported on the fourth person, I was beginning to understand what was happening. I called everyone in to listen to your report. We all loved it!"

Okay, I was feeling a bit better.  She went on.

"We called the night float orderly.  He loved it!"  Okay, I could understand that: he did tend to have a sense of humor.  "We called the night float nurse. She loved it!"  Okay, I was a bit surprised at that.  The night float nurse had never impressed me with her sense of humor.  "We called Bradley!"  "You didn't!" I said.  "You're going to get me fired!"

I suppose I need to explain about Bradley.  She was the night nursing supervisor.  As far as we knew, she had had her sense of humor surgically removed.  As far as we could tell Bradley never actually touched the ground when she walked, since that might make noise that would give her away.  She would hover, floating soundlessly down the hallways.  She *lived* to find nursing staff sleeping on the job.  I wasn't kidding about the danger of being fired.

"Are you kidding?" she said.  "Bradley loved it!  It's the only time I have ever seen her laugh at anything!"

So, it would seem, the only person who didn't find it hilarious was that one head nurse.

As I said, when I was young, I always wanted to be a doctor.  By this point, in my career, and my college career, I realized that I was never going to be able to get into medical school without an awful lot of money to go to one of the foreign schools that specialized in training people who wanted to be a doctor, but couldn't get into Canadian or American medical schools.  I didn't, and never would, have that kind of money.  I did enjoy working as a nurse, even in that, heavily extended care, setting.  And I enjoyed taking industrial first aid training, subsequently, and working as an industrial first aid attendant.

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/03/mgg-51-so-how-was-your-day-at-workhwyd.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/04/mgg-503-hwyd-racists.html

Psalm 43:5

Why am I discouraged?  Why is my heart so sad?  I will put my hope in God!  I will praise him again—my Savior and my God!

Third Avenue Arts Walk

Third Avenue contains a lot of the murals that are supposedly famous in Port Alberni.  Is also home to a large homeless and displaced population, and so is often considered a dangerous part of town.  In addition there are an awful lot of people who talk about the homeless situation in Port Alberni, but have very little understanding of the reality of it.

While planning walks for other groups, I noted that one needed to be careful in the Third Avenue area in terms of which groups I took there.  However, as well as being a potential problem, this also presents an opportunity. 

I propose that we have an Arts Walk event, specifically on Third Avenue, roughly between Bute And Mar.

This would not be strictly confined to Third Avenue because there are some artworks that should be covered on Fourth and on Second, but would cover an area with an awful lot of artwork, *and* the major "problem" areas in Port Alberni.

I do not want to propose that people be taken on a tour of the homeless population as such, or the darker areas of town.  However, by holding tours of public art (of which there are numerous examples along Third Avenue), people will encounter the homeless anyway, and be exposed to how they exist on the streets.

Civic and activist groups could use the walks to make the broader Port Alberni community more aware of the issues and realities of the situation.  Groups involved, with criminality, re-entry to society, the disadvantaged, and outreach to those communities could use the Arts Walks as awareness and possibly fundraising tools.  It might be used for fundraising or to raise public support and expansion of the tiny homes project.

This could be used by Community Policing to familiarise businesses residents, and local politicians with the reality of the problem, and could be used to raise awareness both of safety issues and of the realities of the homeless population in Port Alberni.  They could also be involved in Arts Walks sponsored by other organisations, by participating in uniform.

It could also be used by the churches (and possibly particularly Grace Point), as an outreach, or an introduction to an outreach to the community, or for fundraising for that community.  Salvation Army already has a significant presence in the area, but this could be used by the Salvation Army for awareness type activities and for fundraising.

Job 7:17; Psalm 8:4; Psalm 144:3

What is man, that You should exalt him, and that You should set Your heart on him?

What is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You attend to him?

Lord, what is man that you notice him, the son of man that you consider him?

MGG - 5.01 - So, How Was *Your* Day At Work?/HWYD - nursing

I am reading yet another article about how we hide away embarrassing or "different" people.  The author is, predictably, bemoaning how we remove these people from society.  I am taken back fifty years.

When I was in university, I managed to get into a training program as a hospital nursing orderly, in a hospital.  The hospital was a federal institution, part of the Department of Veterans Affairs.  That was how they came to have a program for nursing orderlies, since they primarily dealt with veterans, who were primarily male, and also veterans from the existing service, and from the RCMP.  The hospital, as one would expect when dealing with veterans, had an elderly population, and many wards were dedicated to geriatric care.

Orderlies, in those institutions that had them, were often simply porters.  In this hospital we were trained as practical nurses.  Practical nurses were not yet licensed, and we performed identical functions.  Anything the practical nurses were trained to do, we were expected to do.  So, these days, I tend to tell people, and I think reasonably accurately so, that I worked my way through university working as a practical nurse.  That was the training we were given, and that was the function we performed.

As noted, there was a very large geriatric population in the hospital.  Some were considered to be extended care: this was defined by not being able to get oneself out of bed.  If you needed assistance getting out of bed, and getting dressed, you were extended care.  Intermediate care meant that you could get yourself up, and dressed.  The reasons that these people were in the hospital varied, but were, when I started work at that hospital, basically decided by the Department of Veterans Affairs.

There were acute care beds in the hospital, and eventually, I worked on some of them.  But, initially, practical nurses, and nursing orderlies, were needed for the geriatric wards.  That was where I got my training, that was where I got my start.

Those of us working on the geriatric wards were quite well aware that we were taking care of old folks.  We knew a fair amount about their situation.  We knew who had family, and who didn't.  We knew who had family come to visit, and who didn't.  We knew that these people were here to stay.  We got to know them, their personalities, their quirks, their wants, their oddities, and we were their friends.  Sometimes we were their family.  There was one resident who always called me by his son's name.  I don't know if I looked like his son.  I never met his son.  I always answered cheerily, and he never pursued the issue.  I don't know whether he thought that I was his son, or simply derived some comfort and familiarity by calling someone his son's name.

All of us who worked at the hospital realized that we were a poor substitute for family.  All of us, myself included, knew that it must be terrible to be stuck here, in our hospital, with us, and not be able to be at home with family.  We didn't necessarily know why they couldn't be at home with family, but all the staff felt that it must be much better that way than the way it was.

After I had worked there for a little more than a year, I took a couple of months off, and went traveling in England, Scotland, and Wales.  My family came from the British Isles, and my parents had spent some time, when I was a baby, doing an exchange year teaching.  So, there was family, and there were family friends.  I visited some of them as I was traveling around.

I stayed with one family for a couple of days.  This particular family was in our extended family tree.  On the third day, as we were finishing breakfast, and I was getting ready to leave, I was asking if I wanted to see Dad.

Not being particularly close to these family relations, I didn't know Dad was still alive.  I certainly didn't know that Dad lived in the house.  I certainly haven't seen any evidence of Dad in the previous two days.  But, certainly, I said, I'd love to see Dad. 

We went up to the top of the house.  The third story.  I hadn't known there *was* a third story.  I had thought that perhaps this was attic space.  Well, it was a little bit larger than attic space, and certainly had a higher ceiling.  It even had a window.  Dad was lying in a bed.  There wasn't even a chair in the room.  So, obviously Dad spent his days in that bed.  The window was high in the roof line.  Dad couldn't have seen anything out of that window other than sky, clouds, possibly the sun at certain seasons and times of day, and possibly a very nearby bird, albeit very briefly.

In that instant I knew that I had been wrong all the previous year.  Being at home was not necessarily a blessing.  I'm sure the family loved Dad.  I'm sure that they did their best for Dad.  But obviously there was very little contact with Dad, other than to bring him meals, and to deal with toilet issues.  We certainly did that in the hospital, but we did an awful lot more, and had an awful lot more contact, with each patient, each day, than Dad got.

When I came back to work, every conversation, from then on, turning on what a shame it was that our patients couldn't live at home with their families, I replied that there were worse places to live than in our hospital.  That there were worst cases of isolation then in our hospital where the only people who interacted with you were paid to do so.  I'm not sure whether that was when I started my retort, to those who were embarrassed that I had to change them, and the entire bed, when they had had a loose bowel movement in the bed, "Don't worry about it: I'm paid to do this. If this didn't happen I wouldn't have a job."  I presented it as a joke, and a lot of the old guys got a good giggle out of it.

Some families have the time, money, patience, and skills necessary to care for the elderly.  Most do not.  Our society does not talk about death, it does not talk about grief, and it does not talk about aging, at least not the extreme aging, where faculties start to become impaired.  Therefore, very, very few understand the requirements of the aging, or the disabled, and their wants, and their needs.  Even fewer can handle the constant demands, small scale though they may be, with sometimes distasteful bodily processes.  To have that combination of time, resources, skills, and character, is vanishingly rare.  So, it's not reasonable to expect, as most of our governments, and particularly conservative oriented governments, tend to expect, that families can take care of their elderly right up to the point of death.  It's very rare, and it leads to very possibly unpleasant situations.  I know that poorly managed care facilities lead to unpleasant situations as well.  I don't want to battle about which is the lesser, or greater, of two evils, or unpleasantnesses.  But to think that all families are able to care for their elderly as they age into extreme age is to live in a dream world.

At one corner of the property where my house is, a seniors facility is being built.  The girls have joked that when I get too old to live on my own, they'll just ship me to that corner of the property.  They think they're joking.  I am absolutely fine with that, and I'm not joking.  Yes, there are situations where staff who should never be working in this field are given charge of the poor and vulnerable.  We need to watch out for those situations, and we need to check that they occur as seldom as possible.  But I know that the people who work in these facilities are primarily good, decent people, who try their best.  They may be hampered by budgets or by uncaring management, but they are trying their best.  They are the friends of those whose friends have all died, and they are the surrogate family, for those whose family can no longer, for whatever reason, care for them.  I'm quite fine to end my days in their company.

Previous: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/03/mgg-500-so-how-was-your-day-at-workhwyd.html

Introduction and ToC: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/10/mgg-introduction.html

Next: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2024/03/mgg-502-hwyd-dead-patients.html

Isaiah 38:15

What shall I say?  For He has spoken to me, and He Himself has done it; I will wander aimlessly all my years because of the bitterness of my soul.

Pedestrian-hostile

 

Not only is Port Alberni not pedestrian-friendly, but, at times, it seems to be actively pedestrian-hostile.  The other day I was walking down the street, because, as usual, there was no sidewalk.  I was walking towards the side of the road, but, I admit, not quite in the gutter.  A lady driving down the street not only did not drive around me, but actually turned the car to aim directly at me, apparently for the sole purpose of being able to jam on the brakes at the last minute and shake her head at me.

Micah 6:8

He hath shown thee, O man, what is good: and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly before thy God?