2011 Newsletter

January 6th, 2012
Happy New Year!

Although this last year hasn’t seen anywhere near the amount of water under the keel as you'll have come to expect from previous newsletters, it has been an amazing and busy one with some unexpected twists! I should warn you that it's also been a very political and spiritual year for me – as strange as that might sound – and I hope that you don't mind me expressing some personal feelings regarding that in this letter which I hope won't be offensive to anyone.

After returning from visiting family in Princeton and the Sunshine Coast this time last year, I returned to Camosun College for a busy and fascinating semester of Literature, Art History, Religions of the West, Anthropology of Women, and Ecosystems and Human Activity. When nominations for the Camosun College Student Society and Education Council began I considered seeking nomination, but it wasn't until several friends and class mates urged me to run that I was nominated as a representative of the Student Society on the Education Council, the organization which authorizes curriculum. I was uncontested and acclaimed to the position but campaigned hard none the less for a group of candidates which I was supporting, many of whom were elected. This was only the very beginning of a political semester as it was shortly afterward that the Conservative Party of Canada, our minority government, faced the first Canadian vote of non-confidence in response to their lack of action or reliable information on Canada's economic state, scheduling a federal election in the Spring. I volunteered for our local NDP candidate Randall Garrison's campaign, and at the College to engage students to vote, and when the news started coming in on the evening of election day I was as shocked as much of the country. The Conservatives, under their ultra-right-wing leader Steven Harper, had been re-elected, this time with a majority government. However, the NDP – the progressive party which I have come to support for their concern for equality, the environment, and peace – became the official opposition for the first time in history under the leadership of Jack Layton. When the CBC stopped covering the election for the night, our riding of Esquimalt/Juan de Fuca remained the last undecided riding as the results were so close, and the next day we learned that Randall Garrison was elected over the Conservative candidate by a 500 vote margin. As anticipated, the rest of the year has been filled with cuts to social programs, discriminatory politics, undermining of labour unions, pulling out of the Kyoto Protocol, scrapping registration of fire-arms, and similar regressive policies which the Conservatives have been shamelessly passing.

I finished the busy Winter semester on the Dean's Honour Roll and began an archaeological field course on the same day as my last exam was scheduled, leaving no Spring break except for a fascinating new course! The small class took a field trip to Dionesio Point on Galiano Island, the site of a 2000 year old village. We camped at a site where we had potluck meals and practiced tree-ring boring and identification of human and animal skeletal remains, among other things, and from where we hiked to the archaeological site. The hike was through lush bush and along the side of towering and beautifully sculpted limestone cliffs. A pod of orcas came close in to one of the points to greet us as we rounded it. When we reached the site of the Winter village on a protected canoe beach we surveyed the hillside of deep depressions left by the pits of the bighouses which had once inhabited the now-forested shore. Returning to Victoria we began work on our main project of surveying and compiling an inventory of archaeological remains in the site of a 500 year old burial ground, in co-operation with the local First Nations, municipality, and a UVic PhD student who is BC's burial cairn specialist. By the end of the project we had documented a huge number of cairns, some of them unique in the entire record, and we finished with a First Nations ceremony to cleanse ourselves of spirits which may have clung to us during our time at the site. Also in the Spring semester I took an Advanced English Composition course, which included the reading and writing of many inspiring essays.

Finally, after two semesters of straight classes, I took the Summer off to travel around the province with my family, and I met Mom, Dad and Harry as they flew into Vancouver Airport from Ottawa. Mom had recently returned from a work exchange in Abu Dhabi, and it had been a full year since I'd seen them in person when I left Ottawa in August 2010. We rented a car and drove to the stunningly forested hillside property of Dad's former metal-etching boss, Rudy in Deep Cove. The next day we visited with Aunty Henrietta and twenty other family members in Burnaby, and explored the Museum of Anthropology and UBC campus where I am considering studying after I graduate from Camosun. We visited Dad's childhood friend, Jerry, for a Greek lunch en route to Harrison Hot Springs where Uncle Randy and Aunty Sandy were managing an RV Park. We then continued up to Princeton to visit Grumpa and Nana where we flew model biplanes over the beautiful fields of wildflowers with Grumpa and went to the United church to listen to Nana play the organ.

We drove back to Victoria where we stayed with Bill and Maureen, and Mom, Dad and Harry visited their many local friends and family while I taught a week of daily summer archery classes. We continued up the Island to Cowichan Bay where Uncle John was farming, and took a day trip on the family's classic little wooden power boat, the Carlisle. We picked up Dad's art school friend Margie in Fullford Harbour on Saltspring Island and anchored off Russel Island to re-visit the Island which Grumpa and Nana were once caretakers of. Back on the road, we visited Aunty Bobby and her dashounds at their new home and continued on to Qualicum Bay where our long-time friends Pat and Beverly made us a phenomenal dinner and allowed me to salivate over their 19th Century volumes on Gothic architecture, its design and construction. From there we ferried back over to the mainland coast where we met Uncle Rick, five-year-old cousin Alice, Aunty Lisa, and her boss' family in Lund to catch the ferry to Savary Island. We enjoyed biking, swimming, and organizing and volunteering for the Island's Fun Triathlon which Aunty Lisa's boss was the head organizer of and whose lovely cedar cabin we stayed in. Harry and Uncle Rick joined a team to participate in the Triathlon for the biking and running portions on the dirt roads and trails which wound through the forest, and we prepared the track and greeted the runners at the finish line with barbequed pizza and prizes. The days after the race were more leisurely, and we took them to explore the island further, visit local artists – including some of Dad's former colleagues from the Victoria College of Art – and walk the abstract sand of the beaches which appeared to blow to the horizon...

After a timeless stay we were back on the coast where we checked out Uncle Rick and Aunty Lisa's recently completed cottage in Lund and continued down to the property that they are caretaking in Bargain Harbour on the Sunshine Coast. During our time on the Coast we went to visit Edith Iglower, former author and journalist for the New Yorker and long-time friend of Uncle John (who had brought the Carlisle up from Cowichan to her dock). On a sunny day with only a small following swell we powered down to Buccaneer Bay with Alice, Gran and her dog Max on the Carlisle where we rowed ashore and swam on the warm, sandy beach. A few days later we had a brisk sail up to Nelson Island on Uncle Rick's ketch, the Orythia, where we met Uncle John and his friend Champak on the Carlisle and rafted to an abandoned log boom. I stayed my last night on the coast with my family at Gran's place in the Robert's Creek cooperative housing development where we had our ritual dinner at my favorite restaurant in BC, the Gumboot Cafe. The next morning I bid everyone farewell and commuted back to Victoria by ferry, public bus and skytrain to teach another week of archery.

After I left Mom, Dad and Harry took Gran to visit Edith and Aunty Shendra, two of her good friends, but during the visiting Gran – who had been her usual intrepid self as a hostess and through the day long sail that we'd done just days before – was extremely tired and incomprehensible. Shortly after Mom, Dad and Harry had to catch their flight back to Ottawa she dozed at the wheel of her car and had an accident. No one was hurt, but she lost her license and her doctor realized that one of her heart valves was contracted and that she needed to have surgery for a replacement valve. There was new, less invasive method which was suggested, but because it was a technique still in its infancy the surgeons were wary to try it on someone of Gran's age. She stayed over a month in hospital, in and out of emergency, and I went up to visit her. I came straight to her hospital from the ferry and talked and read with her before going to her place for the night. It was past midnight when the sound of the telephone awoke me and Uncle Ian's voice from Vancouver came on the answering machine, urging me to answer, but I couldn't get out of bed and down the steep, dark stairs in time. Fortunately a second call came soon after, from Gran's daughter-in-law, Rosemary in Powell River. She told me that Gran was having an emergency and that I needed to get to the hospital fast. I called a taxi and they said they'd meet me at the corner store in 15 minutes. As soon as I arrived at the store, however, beneath an infinite sky of stars, the last bus of the night, bound strait for the hospital, rounded the corner. With a prayer of apology to the late-night taxi driver, I flagged down the bus and was soon at Gran's bedside in the emergency ward. She was sleeping, breathing unevenly, and the doctor told me they'd nearly had to put her on life support but that she was now stable and recovering. Calls came in, telling of the many prayers and prayer groups who were at work across the province. When Gran awoke a look of sheer joy crossed her face as she saw me and she squeezed my hand. I stayed with her for a long while, exchanging a few words, until the nurse suggested that we both needed rest and that it was safe for me to go. Over the next few days I visited Gran, sometimes with Uncle John and Gran's friend and neighbor Sally, and she ranged from being festive, thoughtful and talkative to tired and confused. Aunty Mary flew up from Victoria and came to visit Gran with Uncle John and I on my last day there. Gran was well and she told us of her first exposure to the Quaker religion, one of the primary spiritualities in her life, and an emotional and previously secret account of her childhood of being discriminated against on her London school grounds due to her family's Jewish faith. After an amazing time of stories, forgiveness, jokes, and spiritual ceremony, Aunty Mary asked Gran – who had lived a life of charity, health, physical activity, and spirituality – how many more years she wanted to live. “Well!” Gran huffed, “that's putting it rather bluntly, isn't it!” But then she stopped and thought for a moment and said calmly, “I have come to complete peace with the idea of death.”

I flew back to Nanimo on a floatplane Beaver with Aunty Mary and we drove home from there. Close to the beginning of the semester I received a call from Mom giving the shocking news that Gran had passed away. Uncle John was with her to the end, and he and Champak had seen her off with drumming and ceremony.

As a board member of the Student Society (CCSS) I was a volunteer at the Camfest celebrations, welcoming students to the sunny September campus for the start of classes. I spent the semester studying, among many other things, cross-cultural mis-communication in Linguistic Anthropology, nuclear reactions in Physics, the measurement and identification of hominin skulls in Biological Anthropology, the spacial diffusion of religion in Human Geography, and the mechanics of mega-thrust earthquakes in Lithosphere and Hydrosphere. I averaged at least one protest rally per week for the first month or so, and attended many throughout the semester: the DOTS march from the Royal Jubilee hospital to the Legislature for more comprehensive mental healthcare, a Yard Sale on the lawn of the Legislature to protest cuts to Post Secondary Education and Adult Basic Education, a rally at the Vancouver Art Gallery and Cohen Commission to protect wild salmon from open-net fish farms in BC, the Red Umbrella Rally standing up against violence to sex workers, Rock for Reproductive Justice, and many others. I participated in the first day, and many others, at Occupy Victoria, one of the many global protests against inequality this fall, which resulted in the biggest rally in the history of our city and probably the most long-lived. I also attended a Canadian Federation of Students BC skill-building workshop with other members of the CCSS at the UBC Okanogan campus, where I learned a lot, met many key players of BC's Student Movement, and joined the picket line of the Canadian Postal Worker's locked out union; and later the semi-annual general meeting at Vancouver Island University which was even more educational and inspiring.

I traveled back to the Sunshine Coast for Gran's memorial on Thanksgiving Day. Mom and Dad and so many other friends and family from across North America had come, each life profoundly touched by Gran's inextinguishable love and servitude. Uncle John took a leading role in organizing the profound and interactive memorial, and Mom, cousin Allie and I baked a huge amount of desserts for the reception. The hall filled with Gran's friends and family in a deep U shape around a central performing area capped by a display of photographs, paintings, and meaningful belongings from Gran's life. We all watched and listened to the words, songs and prayers of the Sechelt Nation elder who welcomed us, the ministers of various churches and members of other spiritual groups, family, friends, and the united voices of all of the choirs in which Gran had sung. After this moving experience, the family went down to the sea to spread some of the ashes. The dusk was still, bright with the sun's departure, and the pale smooth ripples of the Strait of Georgia blended into the high, feathered clouds of the calm sky without distinction. John and I drummed with the seabird's quiet motet as we each cast flowers and ashes which drifted in peaceful procession to the East. The next day we buried some more ashes at Gran's former home and spiritual retreat of Mountain Song. We enjoyed a Thanksgiving dinner of Cornish game hens at the Gumboot Cafe, thankful to Gran for bringing the extended family together once again, from as far-flung places as Los Angeles and Ottawa.

As soon as I returned to school after this reverent Thanksgiving break it was another election time for me. I had decided to run for an executive position on the CCSS after my interesting and engaging time as the EdCo representative, and I was in competition with two experienced and worthy candidates. I had laryngitis and five exams over the three week campaign period, but by campaigning hard and receiving the huge help, support and advice of so many fellow students and friends – especially Bill, Maureen, Dylan, and Alexah – I won the position by a good margin. The other election results were also very favorable. In my position as Lansdowne Campus Executive I have had the pleasure of working on such projects as working with the College Sustainability Council to offer more fair trade products on campus, helping campus clubs to excel, encouraging students to vote in municipal elections, working towards the use of preferential ballots in CCSS elections and decision making, helping to organize a December 6th Vigil in memory of the Montreal Masacre and in reminder of the need to take action against violence against women, and much more. I am currently co-organizing events to welcome students back to campus for the Winter 2012 semester and our local protest against raising tuition fees as part of a nation-wide Day of Action on February 1st. I encourage you, if you live near a Canadian post-secondary institution which is staging a protest, to join us in demanding a more fair, sustainable society.

On December 3rd, Gran's birthday, I went to the Vancouver Friend's meeting for a Quaker memorial of Gran. Uncle John, Sally, Gran's former boss Fran, and many of Gran's Quaker friends were there to contemplate in silence and speak through inspiration. The following weekend I went back to Vancouver with a jubilant group of progressive students for the 50th Anniversary Convention of the BC NDP. It was an inspiring weekend of conversing, listening to speeches, history and poetry, and voting and having our say on our party's platform and policies, all immersed in the hope and vision of a diversity of progressive people. Most exciting was the fact that the Federal leadership candidates were all present and hopeful of winning our votes. I visited many – although not as many as I would have liked – meet and greets, hospitality suites and pub nights with various candidates and had the opportunity to chat with others at the convention. All nine candidates participated in a town hall forum, answering questions and vying for our support. Ultimately – although proud of the performance, background and values of all the candidates – I decided to support Nathan Cullen as my first choice based on his stellar participation in the debate, my engaging personal conversations with him, his outstanding track record of standing up for the environment, his obvious electability, and my research into his policy visions.

After all of my exams were over I ended my first semester off of the Honour Roll due to a C+ in the intensive – and first – Physics course which I had taken which had included a three hour cumulative exam worth 50% of my grade, despite having achieved A+ in all my other courses. I caught an overnight bus to Princeton for Christmas, where a big hug from Grumpa greeted me as I descended out of the bus into the cold and snow-laden pioneer town. We drove to the little house with the string of Christmas lights and a little decorated pine tree from up the hill where Nana greeted us at 5 in the morning and we all went to bed for a few hours. I had, as usual, a lovely and relaxing stay, playing crib with Nana and having long talks over long walks with Grumpa around the airport on the white trails which stretched toward the distant rolling hills and mountains like a brush-stroke through smoke-plumes of long, unburied grass in a Zen winter landscape. On Christmas Eve Nana put the turkey in the oven and I went with her to the snow-enshrined church, leaving Grumpa, grateful of the excuse, home to baste the bird. Nana played the organ for the service of carols which ended with a candle-lit chorus of “Silent Night.” We returned home in Nana's friend's classic old car on a route scenic with lights to a wonderful dinner, and put presents under the tree to exchange the next morning. The day after Boxing Day I caught the bus, train and ferry to the Sunshine Coast through Vancouver, and Uncle John met me as I disembarked from the ferry in Langdale. We drove to his place through the dark and blinding rain and built a fire in the little cabin on the wooded stream bank. We reminisced over photos and documents that he'd found in Gran's house, talked of politics and religion, and visited with Champak, Aunty Shendra, Uncle Rick and Alice. On New Year's Eve we met Aunty Mary and her pilot boyfriend, Kent, who had flown over from Victoria, at Hale's place for a marvelous dinner and visit.

As 2011 passed in the procession of years, I reviewed what I anticipate 2012 to bring. My intention is to continue to work hard at what will be an extremely busy and inspiring semester as I work to serve the students of Camosun and leave a lasting legacy for them during the rest of my term on the Student Society while I study Archeology, Social Systems and the Environment, Cultural Anthropology, Geography of Cities, and Atmosphere and Biosphere. After that I will have graduated from Camosun with an Associate of Arts degree in Anthropology, and will return to Ottawa to prepare for my next adventure. This, I have decided, will be something which I have waited very long to do: the age-old pilgrimage across northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela. This is a journey which has called to me since I first heard of its existence, an 800 kilometer walk from the French side of the Pyrenees to Santiago where the relic of the Apostle James has been visited for twelve hundred years, then on to Finisterre, “The End of the Earth,” which has been a destination of pilgrims since the religion of the ancient Celts worshiped Europe. To give you some idea of the feelings, more than the expectations, that I have for this trip, I'd recommend this clip which I have watched hundreds of times over the past few years: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QDOTJHbwRj4. I am hoping to leave my time in Europe as open to exploration as my bank account will allow, then return back to Ottawa to work until I can afford to transfer to UBC or UVic to complete my bachelor’s degree in Anthropology.

On the morning of 2012 we rose and bid Uncle John goodbye, and Hale drove Kent, Mary and I out to the airport. The former pilot and air mechanic observed the Cessna that Kent was borrowing, and soon we were waving goodbye to him as he grew smaller and smaller bellow us, standing next to his 1975 Mercedes Volkswagon. We flew out over the pink and gold Salish Sea, the texture of opaque glass, toward the silk screened Gulf Islands beneath the strong and distant mountains, enrobed in snow. It felt, as we flew into the New Year, that we were half way between the veil of the pink sea and the veil of the silken clouds, each broken by pin-pricks of magnificently blinding gold which told of the sacred mysteries of the profound depth and eternal height between which we were suspended with immaculate balance....

May 2012 bring peace and beauty to you and yours.


Bradley Clements
Victoria, BC