Honouring our Veterans
Today is Remembrance Day where we honour the memory of our Veterans, many of whom who gave their lives so that we would live in freedom. My father was a Veteran of WW2. I think all Veterans gave significant parts of their soul so that our lives would be rich. Lest we forget.
Yet, today, I can`t help thinking of a visit to my son in Vancouver in September. My son attends College and has a very cool studio apartment. He loves it. Of course, as a mother, I worry about him regardless. I can see why he loves the apartment. It is in a very cool Heritage building which has been converted into studio apartments. It is quite trendy. It has cool art everywhere. It has a view of the water and the mountains. It has communal washrooms and a communal shower. It is approximately 200 square feet. Like I said, as a college student, I can see how it loves it.
His apartment is also just east of the poorest postal code in Canada. Every day that I was there visiting we went on a new adventure. My son was an amazing tour guide because he seemed to know everything about the city. We would take the bus.
Everyday we passed through ``Tent City`` at, ironically, Victory Park. We also passed through some memorable blocks on East Hastings Street. I like to think I`ve been around the block, so to speak. I like to think nothing would shock me anymore. I think that I have seen poverty before.
I still can`t get the images of poverty out of my mind. Victory Park is the largest tent city and there is an unofficial one before that. They are not really tent cities, they are sort of squat cities or tarp cities. People everywhere almost on top of each other, many children just running around accepting nurturing from anyone that will offer it. A feeding zone for the vulnerable. It feels like you are watching a zoo exhibit and the people seem comfortable putting on a show. Where there are no people taking space, the space is operated by shopping carts.
There was no way that I could prepare myself for East Hastings Street. I should have known when everyone on the crowded bus seemed to take a deep breathe in unison and stared forward. People. People everywhere. Lying on the streets, lying on the sidewalk, lying on top of each other. It was difficult telling if some were alive. A few dogs looking like they were starving hanging around. No one begging. There was so many, it wouldn`t have made a difference. A few people walking over other people as if they were garbage in the streets. I wanted to vomit. After I asked my son if he was affected by witnessing it. He said he was at first, then he moved to the point where it made him feel grateful for all he had, then he moved to the point where he had to not see it. Of course, he would never be successful in that. You can`t not see this. My son told me there were a couple of abandoned buildings that contained hundreds of people just taking advantage of the shelter. He said that ``poverty tours`` were available where for $10 you could walk through some the buildings and see how people lived.
I had to admit the next times we passed through this area, I would close my eyes. By the end of the week, I was like the rest of the bus. I took a deep breathe in before we got there and looked forward and then exhaled when we passed it.
But, I still was drawn to Victory Park. I couldn`t stop looking at this `community``. They seemed to develop their own rules and their own way of doing things. However, no one seemed to be living, they seemed to be surviving at best.
This was in Vancouver, a city of opulence. It didn`t make sense how there could be so much wealth and so much poverty.
That level of poverty is so overwhelming and I know there are no easy answers and I know smarter people than me have tried to come up with solutions. All I know is that my father, and other Veterans, signed up for the Armed Forces on their first opportunity. They were trying to do what they thought was best for all Canadians and for all future generations. I don`t think any of them envisioned this level of desperation for so many.
I think I owe it to our Veterans on this Remembrance Day to remember not only their sacrifice, but their ideals. We need to give some thought to their example. We need to look in our own hearts and ask ourselves if we are living up to their example. What are we giving back.
Yet, today, I can`t help thinking of a visit to my son in Vancouver in September. My son attends College and has a very cool studio apartment. He loves it. Of course, as a mother, I worry about him regardless. I can see why he loves the apartment. It is in a very cool Heritage building which has been converted into studio apartments. It is quite trendy. It has cool art everywhere. It has a view of the water and the mountains. It has communal washrooms and a communal shower. It is approximately 200 square feet. Like I said, as a college student, I can see how it loves it.
His apartment is also just east of the poorest postal code in Canada. Every day that I was there visiting we went on a new adventure. My son was an amazing tour guide because he seemed to know everything about the city. We would take the bus.
Everyday we passed through ``Tent City`` at, ironically, Victory Park. We also passed through some memorable blocks on East Hastings Street. I like to think I`ve been around the block, so to speak. I like to think nothing would shock me anymore. I think that I have seen poverty before.
I still can`t get the images of poverty out of my mind. Victory Park is the largest tent city and there is an unofficial one before that. They are not really tent cities, they are sort of squat cities or tarp cities. People everywhere almost on top of each other, many children just running around accepting nurturing from anyone that will offer it. A feeding zone for the vulnerable. It feels like you are watching a zoo exhibit and the people seem comfortable putting on a show. Where there are no people taking space, the space is operated by shopping carts.
There was no way that I could prepare myself for East Hastings Street. I should have known when everyone on the crowded bus seemed to take a deep breathe in unison and stared forward. People. People everywhere. Lying on the streets, lying on the sidewalk, lying on top of each other. It was difficult telling if some were alive. A few dogs looking like they were starving hanging around. No one begging. There was so many, it wouldn`t have made a difference. A few people walking over other people as if they were garbage in the streets. I wanted to vomit. After I asked my son if he was affected by witnessing it. He said he was at first, then he moved to the point where it made him feel grateful for all he had, then he moved to the point where he had to not see it. Of course, he would never be successful in that. You can`t not see this. My son told me there were a couple of abandoned buildings that contained hundreds of people just taking advantage of the shelter. He said that ``poverty tours`` were available where for $10 you could walk through some the buildings and see how people lived.
I had to admit the next times we passed through this area, I would close my eyes. By the end of the week, I was like the rest of the bus. I took a deep breathe in before we got there and looked forward and then exhaled when we passed it.
But, I still was drawn to Victory Park. I couldn`t stop looking at this `community``. They seemed to develop their own rules and their own way of doing things. However, no one seemed to be living, they seemed to be surviving at best.
This was in Vancouver, a city of opulence. It didn`t make sense how there could be so much wealth and so much poverty.
That level of poverty is so overwhelming and I know there are no easy answers and I know smarter people than me have tried to come up with solutions. All I know is that my father, and other Veterans, signed up for the Armed Forces on their first opportunity. They were trying to do what they thought was best for all Canadians and for all future generations. I don`t think any of them envisioned this level of desperation for so many.
I think I owe it to our Veterans on this Remembrance Day to remember not only their sacrifice, but their ideals. We need to give some thought to their example. We need to look in our own hearts and ask ourselves if we are living up to their example. What are we giving back.
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