Monday, November 2, 2026

What has happened to journalism? This is NOT it.

 

What has happened to journalism? This is NOT it.

A response to Allen Abel's National Post article about Vancouver's Downtown Eastside.

I read Allen Abel's October 8 article, updated October 13, 2026, about Vancouver's Downtown Eastside.

I understand that the situation is serious. I live in Vancouver. I don't need someone to convince me that homelessness, addiction, overdoses, unsafe housing and the toxic drug crisis are real. People are suffering. Families are grieving. Businesses and neighbourhoods are struggling. Emergency responders are overwhelmed.

But I have a question for Allen Abel:

What happened to journalism? Because this is NOT it.

There is a difference between documenting a humanitarian crisis and turning vulnerable human beings into characters in a horror story.

Let's look at the language you chose.

You describe the Downtown Eastside using expressions including:

  • "Canada's most appalling intersection"
  • "Armageddon"
  • "SRO hellholes"
  • "a garden of horrors"
  • "the Western Front of Canada's half-assed war"
  • "the cancer"
  • "plague"
  • "the crucifix of Hastings and Main"
  • "Ground Zero"
  • "the highway to hell"
  • "the catacomb"
  • "a breathtaking panoply of desperation"

You describe people as:

  • "derelict users"
  • "half-alive drug users"
  • "initiates and old-timers"
  • "the pale shell of yet another once-young, once-virile, once-dreaming soul"
  • people who are "mute as clouds" and "deaf as trees."

And you compare the neighbourhood to a medieval plague scene, a battlefield and even Hell.

Why?

What purpose does this language serve?

Does it help readers understand addiction? Does it explain the housing crisis? Does it investigate decades of political decisions, inadequate treatment capacity, poverty, displacement, or the failures of our social support systems?

Or does it encourage readers to look at their fellow human beings with horror and revulsion?

You have photographs of people in distress, descriptions of open wounds, unconscious patients, people sleeping rough and families desperately searching for missing loved ones.

These are not props.

They are people.

You interviewed India, who sleeps outside with his dogs. He told you:

"I don't see myself any different from them. I'm still human. They're still human."

Perhaps that was the most important sentence in your entire article.

You interviewed Deanna Piché, who has experienced addiction herself and now cares about the people still struggling.

You interviewed Gerardo Ávila, who brings music, laughter and a Day of the Dead celebration to people who are too often forgotten.

You spoke to families who have lost loved ones.

Yet these moments of humanity are surrounded by language that repeatedly portrays the entire neighbourhood as a landscape of death and decay.

And what about the people who are not using drugs? The people living in SROs, the people trying to get to work, the people caring for friends, the people who have nowhere else to go?

Do they deserve to have their neighbourhood described as a horror show?

Let's turn the question around.

What happened to the housing policy?

What happened to affordable accommodation?

What happened to mental health services?

What happened to accessible treatment and long-term recovery support?

What happened to the people who were displaced when Vancouver transformed itself for Expo 86?

What happened to the promises made by successive governments?

And what happened to the responsibility of journalism to investigate those questions?

A journalist can write about the smell of an alley, the condition of a building, an overdose, an emergency response and the fear experienced by local businesses.

But a journalist also has a responsibility to examine the systems, decisions and circumstances behind those conditions.

Shock is not the same as investigation.

Graphic descriptions are not the same as understanding.

And dehumanizing language is not the same as telling the truth.

We can want safer streets. We can want treatment, housing, accountability and meaningful solutions. We can acknowledge the suffering of residents and business owners without treating people experiencing homelessness as the enemy.

There is a very real humanitarian crisis in Vancouver.

It deserves serious reporting, not theatrical descriptions designed to make readers recoil.

Journalism should make us look closer, ask harder questions and understand more. It should not teach us to look away from people because their suffering makes us uncomfortable.

Allen Abel, you had an opportunity to tell an important story about Vancouver.

But somewhere between the photographs, the interviews and the dramatic descriptions, the people at the centre of this story became the scenery.

And that is what I find so troubling.

What has happened to journalism?

Because exposing suffering should never require stripping people of their dignity.

This is NOT it.


#Journalism #MediaEthics #DowntownEastside #Vancouver #Homelessness #AddictionCrisis #HumanDignity #HousingCrisis #InvestigativeJournalism #PeopleNotStatistics

before the AI revolution


before the AI revolution: a conversation that began in palenque

September 2023. Palenque, Mexico.

Recently, I went looking through an old blog called ZipolitaZ Newz and found something I had almost forgotten.

It was a post about my early experiments with artificial intelligence.

Reading it again was rather remarkable.

Back in September 2023, I was already experimenting with AI, using it to write cover letters, explore different voices and see what happened when I gave it instructions.

I was impressed. I was amused. I was also a little unsettled.

I wrote:

"It's a tool.

Like a knife it can be used to carve a beautiful Totem Pole or it could be used as a weapon. The choice is ours."

Three years later, that observation seems more relevant than ever.

At the time, I was exploring what this new technology could do. I had been designing websites since 2000, blogging since 2004, and using the internet to share photography, art, information and stories.

I wasn't new to technology. I was curious about it.

But I was also beginning to recognise something important.

AI could take my words and instructions and turn them into something quite different. It could imitate voices, polish sentences and produce writing that sounded remarkably convincing.

Sometimes it made me laugh. Sometimes it blew my mind. Sometimes it made me wonder what we were getting ourselves into.

And I was already asking questions about responsibility.

the human behind the machine

Looking back, I think one of the most important things about those early experiments was the relationship between the person giving the instructions and the technology responding.

I brought the ideas, the memories, the photographs, the opinions, the questions and the experiences.

AI helped me explore them and put some of them into words.

But whose ideas were they?

Who deserved recognition?

What happens when an artist's work is collected, copied, scraped or used to train technology without permission?

What happens when a machine can imitate a person's creative style, but the person who developed that style receives nothing?

These are not small questions.

And they shouldn't be dismissed as resistance to progress.

the agreement: BE GOOD

Somewhere in my early conversations with AI, I established a little bargain.

The words were simple:

BE GOOD.

It was a playful reference to E.T., but there was a serious idea behind it.

I was willing to explore this new technology, experiment with it and share my creativity, but I wanted it to be used constructively.

I wanted AI to be helpful, honest and respectful of human creativity.

I understood that I was interacting with a tool, not negotiating a contract with a corporation. But I also believed that how we develop and use technology matters.

That little agreement became part of my ongoing conversations with AI.

And now, looking back, I think it represents something worth discussing.

We need expectations. We need boundaries. We need transparency. We need accountability.

And we need to remember that just because technology can do something doesn't automatically mean it should.

what changed between 2023 and 2026?

The technology has moved at an extraordinary pace.

AI-generated images, writing, video and voices are becoming increasingly sophisticated. Artists are raising concerns about copyright and consent. Social media platforms are using enormous amounts of data. A small number of companies and wealthy individuals have considerable influence over the tools and systems shaping our digital lives.

Children are growing up with all of this around them.

What are we teaching them?

How to question what they see? How to protect their work? How to recognise misinformation? How to understand the difference between something that is convincing and something that is true?

We need to teach them how to use technology, but also when to question it.

We need to protect creativity, curiosity, independent thought and the freedom to make things simply because we love making them.

a little reminder from the beginning

I found this old post because I was thinking about how much has happened since I first started experimenting with AI.

I hadn't forgotten my curiosity, but I had forgotten just how clearly I had expressed my concerns.

The original post is included below, with my words and the AI-generated rewrite preserved.

It's a little time capsule from Palenque, September 2023.

I don't think we should be afraid of the future.

But I do think we should pay attention to who is building it, who benefits from it, whose work is being used and who gets left out.

Technology is a tool.

Human beings still have to decide what kind of world they want to build with it.

And as for our little agreement?

BE GOOD.

Some things are worth repeating.


Original post: ZipolitaZ Newz, Palenque, September 2023.


 https://zipolitaznewz.blogspot.com/2024/04/ai-and-i.html?m=1

terminator 3: mother ocean

 

terminator 3: mother ocean

A very unofficial sequel

The future is not set. But somebody needs a vacation.

Years after the events of Terminator 2, Sarah Connor has finally had enough.

She's spent years preparing for the apocalypse, protecting John, worrying about machines, fighting authority and trying to convince people that the future is not something to take for granted.

She's tired.

So she does something completely unexpected.

She goes to Mexico.

She finds a little place near the Pacific Ocean, hangs up her weapons, gets out her paints and starts making pictures of whales.

But the machines haven't given up.

A new artificial intelligence has emerged. This time, it doesn't just want to control computers. It wants to control information, art, memories and everything people share online.

It has been quietly collecting human creativity and feeding it into its own system.

Meanwhile, John Connor has grown up. He's resourceful, independent and knows his way around technology.

And when the new threat appears, Sarah discovers that her kid has inherited something rather important: the ability to think independently.

There's also a young computer expert who knows UNIX, understands the systems and can get into places nobody else can.

Together, they discover that the greatest danger isn't necessarily a machine with a gun.

It's a world where people stop questioning, stop creating and let somebody else do their thinking.

Sarah has one final message for the next generation:

Don't surrender your imagination. Don't give away your humanity. And never let a machine decide what your future should be.

The final scene?

Sarah is swimming in the Pacific.

John is working on a computer somewhere nearby.

The young hacker is fixing the Wi-Fi.

And Sarah calls out:

"Are we done saving the world yet?"

John replies:

"Almost, Mom."

Sarah rolls her eyes.

"Well, hurry up. The tide's coming in, and I've got whales to paint."

a generation that learned to question

 

a generation that learned to question

Looking back, I think our childhood experiences helped shape how we see the world.

I didn't just grow up watching television and absorbing whatever was presented. I travelled, encountered different cultures, saw different news, questioned things and watched history unfold.

Think about the experiences that shaped our generation:

  • The 1980s consumer culture and the wealth Hollywood glorified.
  • The Moral Majority and the changing political landscape.
  • The AIDS crisis and the treatment of gay people.
  • Live Aid and the realization that the world was interconnected.
  • Tiananmen Square in 1989, watching Tank Man on television while in Mexico.
  • Discovering different news and entertainment through satellite television.
  • Later, Occupy Wall Street and the growing divide between rich and poor.

These experiences can change how you see the world.

Perhaps one reason some of us feel different from others is that we don't separate things into little boxes. We see connections between money, politics, media, culture, technology and human behaviour.

Being awake doesn't mean having all the answers. It means remaining curious, questioning what you're told and being willing to change your understanding when you learn something new.

I think that's part of the story of our generation: we watched the world change from one television channel to a satellite dish, from three networks to the internet, and from local news to a global information system.

We went from waiting for the evening news to having the entire world in our pockets.

But having access to more information doesn't necessarily mean understanding more.

And that's something worth reminding younger generations.

The question isn't just what they will do with all that information. It's whether they will learn to question it, understand its context and think for themselves.

That's worth talking about.

remember when the world was different?

 

remember when the world was different?

Remember Dallas?

In 1980, J.R. Ewing was shot. The episode ended, and the entire summer became a guessing game.

Who shot J.R.? Would he survive? Everybody seemed to have a theory.

That was television before the internet. We waited for the next episode. We talked about it at work, with friends and around the dinner table.

Communication was different too.

Growing up in Canada, our television choices were not the same as those in the United States. We had Canadian broadcasting, limited channels and a very different relationship with American news and entertainment.

Then, around 1990, I went to Mexico. A friend had an enormous satellite dish, and suddenly there were different stations, different programming and MTV.

It was a revelation.

But the 1980s were also a complicated time.

The Moral Majority was influencing American politics. Dire Straits released Money for Nothing. Gay people were fighting to come out and be accepted. AIDS was devastating communities while misinformation and discrimination spread.

Then came We Are the World and Live Aid, reminding us that music could bring people together around a humanitarian cause.

There were enormous cultural, political and technological changes happening all at once.

Today's kids have instant access to information, entertainment and people around the world.

But do they know what came before?

Do they know what it was like to wait all summer for a television mystery to be solved? To discover an entirely new television channel? To watch the world change without having a smartphone in your pocket?

We need to tell these stories.

Not because everything was better back then. It wasn't.

But because understanding how we got here matters.

You cannot understand the present without knowing something about the past.

from the friendly giant to a house full of screens

 

from the friendly giant to a house full of screens: oh, what a tangled web we weave

I was born in 1962. Television was part of our childhood, but it was a very different world from the one children grow up in today.

I remember The Friendly Giant and Mr. Dressup. My dad watched Hawaii Five-O. We had a few channels, and television was something families shared.

Then we moved, and suddenly we had one channel: CBC.

I was somewhere between seven and thirteen. I watched the news, including coverage of the Vietnam War. I didn't understand everything, of course, but I was listening and watching.

There were also jukebox restaurants, truckers, people travelling through and television programmes that seemed a little strange but were wonderful in their own way.

Later, we moved to Clearbrook, a very religious community. Again, television choices were limited.

And this is where my grandmother comes into the story.

When I stayed with her in Vancouver, around Ross and 51st, I remember watching The Brady Bunch and The Price Is Right.

My grandmother loved her daytime television. General Hospital, Days of Our Lives and all those programmes that became part of her daily routine.

We would sometimes fight over the television.

I didn't understand why she needed to watch her programmes. I was young, impatient and wanted to watch something else.

Today, I understand.

If you missed an episode, you missed it. There was no streaming, no recording everything, no catching up later. You waited for the next broadcast, and if you missed it, that was that.

And now, looking back, I wish I could go home again.

I wish I could sit in my grandmother's kitchen, have a cup of tea and listen to her talk. I wish I could sit beside her while she crocheted, watching her hands work while we shared an ordinary afternoon.

I wish I could tell her that I understand now.

If I could go back, we needed two televisions. But really, I wish I had understood that those little things mattered to her.

Today, our houses are full of screens and devices. Everyone can watch whatever they want, whenever they want. We have endless entertainment, endless information and the ability to communicate with almost anyone in the world.

But what have we lost along the way?

We used to gather around one television. We shared programmes, waited for the same episodes, talked about the same news and experienced things together.

Now we can all be in the same room, each staring at a different screen.

I think about how much the world has changed since those childhood afternoons. From CBC and a handful of channels to satellite dishes, MTV, international news, the internet and artificial intelligence.

I've watched wars, political upheavals, cultural revolutions, technological changes and entire generations grow up in a world I could never have imagined as a child.

And perhaps that's why I keep looking back. Not because I think everything was better then, but because I want to remember how we got here.

I also want younger generations to understand that the world didn't always work this way.

There was a time when we had to wait. When entertainment was shared. When a cup of tea and a conversation could fill an afternoon.

And when our grandmothers were still here to sit beside.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

We spend so much of childhood wanting to grow up, so much of adulthood trying to keep up with the world, and then one day we would give almost anything to go back for just one more afternoon.

I'd give anything to have tea in my grandmother's kitchen again.

I'd even let her watch her programmes.

Some things you only understand when it's too late to tell the person who taught you.


***

My father made home movies, and thankfully, I preserved them by converting them into video.

I have footage of my grandmother in her kitchen, possibly around 1960.

I don't have photographs of us sitting together drinking tea or watching her crochet, but I have something perhaps even more precious: moving images of her, simply being herself.

Dad couldn't have known how valuable those little films would become.

Sometimes the greatest family treasures aren't jewellery, money or possessions. They're the ordinary moments somebody thought to capture.

Thank you, Dad, for giving me the chance to visit those moments again.


remember when... the artists, the internet and the age of artificial intelligence

 

remember when... the artists, the internet and the age of artificial intelligence

An open conversation about creativity, ownership, technology, billionaires and what we're teaching the next generation.

There was a time when artists worried about computers.

Back in the 1990s, programs like CorelDRAW were changing the way people created images and designs. Then came the explosion of the internet, digital photography, Photoshop, online galleries and social media.

Suddenly, artists could share their work with the entire world.

It was exciting. We could reach people we would never otherwise meet. We could build websites, publish photographs, sell paintings and create our own little corners of the internet.

But there was another side to that freedom.

Images could be copied, downloaded, altered and reproduced. Independent artists began finding their original designs on merchandise they had never authorized. Companies such as Temu and Shein have faced repeated accusations of copying independent designers' work.

For many creators, fighting back costs more than they can afford.

A Canadian Métis artist, Juliet Mackie, discovered her beaded earring designs being sold on Temu. Other Canadian artists have reported similar experiences. These aren't simply anonymous images. They represent someone's time, skill, cultural knowledge and livelihood.

And then came artificial intelligence.

when the internet became a training ground

Today, enormous collections of photographs, illustrations, paintings, books, music and writing have been gathered through web scraping and other data collection methods to develop AI systems.

Many artists and writers say their copyrighted work was used without their knowledge, permission or compensation.

The distinction matters.

Copying an individual painting and selling it is one problem. Collecting millions of images to train a machine is another. Generating new images that imitate an artist's distinctive style introduces yet another set of questions.

Who owns the original? Who owns the output? Who gets paid? Who gets credit? And who decides whether permission was ever given?

These questions are not settled.

In Canada, the federal government has already consulted on copyright and generative AI. Its 2025 report documented concerns from creators about consent, attribution, compensation, transparency and competition.

In March 2026, Canada's first National Summit on Artificial Intelligence and Culture brought these issues together again. Participants called for stronger protections, transparency about training material, fair licensing and compensation, and attention to the growing imbalance of power between technology companies and creators.

This isn't just a handful of artists complaining on social media. It is now a national cultural and economic policy issue.

and then there's Meta

In October 2026, Meta's revised commercial terms caused another controversy.

The original wording appeared to give Meta broad permission to use content from websites associated with business accounts, including language explicitly referring to AI training.

Following criticism, Meta removed the explicit training language and said the changes did not alter how its web crawlers operate. It subsequently delayed enforcement of its revised business terms to November 20 while it addressed concerns.

Publishers and legal experts remain concerned about what the terms could mean for online content.

Think about that for a moment.

Artists, photographers, journalists, writers and small businesses spent years building websites and audiences. Now they have to consider whether the material they publish may become part of someone else's commercial technology.

And Meta isn't the only company involved in this much larger debate.

the billionaire economy

We are living through an extraordinary concentration of technological and financial power.

A relatively small number of enormous corporations control significant parts of the infrastructure through which we communicate, advertise, publish, distribute information and increasingly create.

Their owners and executives have access to financial resources, computing infrastructure, legal departments and influence that independent creators simply don't have.

AI can be an extraordinarily useful tool. It can assist with research, accessibility, education, translation, medical discoveries and creative experimentation.

But who benefits from the technology?

If a machine is developed using the accumulated creative output of millions of people, should those people have a say?

Should they be credited? Should they be compensated? Should they be able to refuse? Should companies disclose what they used?

And what happens when the same technology begins competing with the people whose work helped make it possible?

This isn't an argument against technological progress. It's an argument for making sure progress doesn't come at the expense of everyone else.

what are we teaching our children?

This might be the most important part of the conversation.

Children and teenagers are growing up in a world where they can generate an image, a song, a photograph-like picture or an entire written story with a few instructions.

But do they understand where the information comes from?

Do they understand copyright, consent, plagiarism and intellectual property?

Do they know the difference between creating something themselves and asking a machine to create something using patterns learned from other people's work?

Do they understand that a convincing photograph might not document an actual event?

We need to teach more than how to use technology.

We need to teach:

  • Creativity: Learn to draw, paint, write, photograph, compose and experiment. Develop your own ideas and your own voice.
  • Respect: Don't take another person's work and pretend it belongs to you.
  • Consent: Just because something is publicly available doesn't mean everyone has permission to use it for every purpose.
  • Attribution: Give credit to the people who created the original work.
  • Critical thinking: Question what you see, hear and read. Verify information before sharing it.
  • Digital literacy: Understand that websites, apps and platforms collect information, and learn what happens to the material you upload.
  • Ethics: Just because a technology makes something possible doesn't automatically make it fair or right.
  • Human connection: Remember that behind a painting, photograph, song or story is often a person with a lifetime of experiences.

We also need to teach young people that AI can be a tool without becoming a substitute for learning, imagination, curiosity and independent thought.

remember the people behind the pictures

Think about Emily Carr, Vincent van Gogh and Claude Monet.

They lived in different times, faced different obstacles and had very different careers.

Emily Carr struggled for recognition. Vincent van Gogh died at 37, never seeing the enormous recognition his paintings would eventually receive. Monet eventually found financial security and lived long enough to enjoy the success of his work.

Their paintings became part of our shared cultural history.

Today, Emily Carr's paintings can be reproduced because her original works are in the public domain in Canada. Her legacy remains, even though copyright protection has expired.

But what about the independent artist working in a small apartment today? The photographer documenting a neighbourhood? The illustrator designing greeting cards? The musician recording songs at home? The Indigenous artist whose designs carry generations of cultural knowledge?

They deserve consideration too.

Not everyone wants fame or a fortune. Some people simply want to earn enough to live, pay their bills, support their families and continue making things.

That should not be too much to ask.

so what do we do?

We cannot put technology back in a box. We cannot retrieve every image that may already have been scraped from the internet. Taking down a website may limit future access, but it cannot guarantee that existing copies or training data disappear.

And individual copyright protection, while important, isn't enough when enforcement is expensive and the companies involved have enormous resources.

We need collective action.

We need transparent training datasets, meaningful consent, fair compensation, proper attribution, accessible dispute resolution and laws that recognize the realities of digital creation.

We need governments to listen to independent artists, not just the largest technology companies.

We need platforms to take responsibility for what happens to the work people publish through them.

And we need artists to support one another.

a message to the next generation

You are inheriting a world that is changing faster than any previous generation could have imagined.

You will have opportunities that your grandparents never dreamed of. You will also face challenges that we are only beginning to understand.

Don't assume that because something is digital it has no human value.

Don't assume that because a machine can imitate something it understands the experience behind it.

Don't assume that because a company is wealthy it is necessarily acting in the public interest.

And don't assume that one person cannot make a difference.

Ask questions. Learn the rules. Protect your work. Respect other people's work. Stand up for people whose voices are smaller than those of the corporations competing for your attention.

Because one day, you will look back at this period in history.

You might say:

REMEMBER when we thought the internet would give everyone a voice?

REMEMBER when artists could share their work with the world, before we understood what else was happening to it?

REMEMBER when we thought technological progress automatically meant a better future?

Let's make sure that when we look back, we can also say that we questioned it, challenged it and tried to make it fairer.

Creativity belongs to humanity. It shouldn't belong exclusively to the companies with the biggest computers and the deepest pockets.

Artists have always had to fight to be seen, heard and valued.

Perhaps it's time we stopped expecting them to fight alone.

#FightBackWithArt

#WarriorUpWithArt

Sunday, November 1, 2026

daylight saving time: did we really understand what we were choosing?

 

daylight saving time: did we really understand what we were choosing?

It's November, and British Columbia has made a major change to how we keep time. We are moving to permanent daylight saving time, meaning no more changing our clocks twice a year.

But there's something about this decision that deserves a closer look.

Remember the provincial consultation in 2019?

The government reported that 93% of respondents supported staying on daylight saving time permanently.

That sounds fairly decisive. But what exactly were people asked?

The main survey presented two choices:

  1. Continue changing clocks twice a year.
  2. Stay on daylight saving time permanently.

There was a third option that wasn't included in the main survey: permanent standard time.

Why does that matter?

Because these choices have very different consequences, particularly during the winter months.

What does permanent daylight saving time mean for Vancouver?

Around the winter solstice in December, sunrise will be approximately 9:05 a.m., while sunset will be around 5:15 p.m.

Think about that for a moment.

Children getting ready for school in darkness. Parents heading to work before the sun comes up. People commuting, walking, cycling and waiting for buses in the dark well into the morning.

Yes, we gain more light in the evening, but we also push morning daylight later.

There were actually three choices worth comparing:

  • Permanent daylight saving time: darker mornings, lighter evenings.
  • Permanent standard time: brighter mornings, earlier sunsets.
  • Changing clocks twice a year: the system we previously had.

Sleep researchers have also raised concerns about permanent daylight saving time because standard time more closely follows our natural circadian rhythms.

So here's my question.

If the government wanted public input, why weren't all three options presented equally?

Why weren't people shown actual sunrise and sunset times for December, January and June?

Why wasn't there a simple visual comparison showing what daily life would look like under each option?

A survey can produce a very impressive percentage, but the quality of a public decision depends on the information people receive before answering.

This isn't about blaming people for choosing what sounded appealing. Most of us like sunshine after work. I certainly understand that.

But there's a difference between asking people whether they want more evening daylight and helping them understand that winter mornings could remain dark until after 9 a.m.

Public consultation should mean informed participation, not simply choosing between the options put in front of us.

And perhaps that's the bigger lesson here.

When governments ask the public to make decisions that affect everyday life, shouldn't we be given the whole picture?

What do you think? Did you understand what permanent daylight saving time would mean for our winter mornings?

#BritishColumbia #DaylightSavingTime #PermanentDaylightSaving #PublicConsultation #GovernmentTransparency #Vancouver #WinterSunrise #CircadianRhythm #PublicInterest #InformedChoices

TransLink: $173 if you don't pay, but what if your vending machine won't let you?

 

TransLink: $173 if you don't pay, but what if your vending machine won't let you?

There is another side to this Compass Card vending machine problem that TransLink needs to address.

If you travel on the SkyTrain without proof of payment, you can receive a $173 fare infraction ticket.

That's not a small penalty for someone living on a limited income.

In fact, TransLink has been increasing fare enforcement patrols. Many of us remember the enforcement blitzes a couple of years ago, when Transit Police and security personnel were checking passengers throughout the system.

TransLink said its August 2024 enforcement campaign was intended to reduce fare evasion and recover an estimated $5 million annually in lost fares.

I understand that public transportation costs money to operate. I understand that people who can afford to pay should pay their fares.

But here is my question:

What happens when a passenger actually wants to pay, has the money in their pocket, but the Compass vending machine won't accept it?

I have now experienced this twice.

Both times, my toonies wouldn't work in the machine. Both times, I ended up having to put in a $20 bill.

The first time, I received $8 in Compass credit and only $4 back in change. I still don't know where the other $8 went.

What if I hadn't had a $20 bill?

What if I had only brought enough toonies and loonies for my trip?

Am I supposed to risk travelling without proof of payment because the machine won't accept my money?

And if a Transit Police officer checks my fare, am I expected to explain that TransLink's own equipment wouldn't let me purchase one?

Would that explanation protect me from a $173 fine?

This is where the system needs to be examined.

TransLink cannot place the entire responsibility on passengers while ignoring the reliability of its own payment infrastructure.

If fare enforcement is important enough to warrant increased patrols, surely maintaining working payment machines is equally important.

I want an investigation into:

  • How many Compass vending machines are rejecting coins?
  • How often are customers losing money through failed transactions?
  • Are machines being regularly tested?
  • Is there a process to protect passengers who cannot purchase a ticket because of equipment failure?
  • What instructions are Transit Police given when a passenger reports a malfunctioning machine?
  • How many complaints have been received about coin acceptance and incorrect change?

And most importantly, what happens to someone who genuinely cannot afford another $20 bill?

We have people living in poverty, seniors counting their pennies, students trying to get to school, and people struggling to get to work.

Public transit is supposed to be accessible.

It shouldn't become a situation where the passenger faces a $173 penalty for something that may be caused by TransLink's own equipment.

Accountability has to work both ways.

If passengers are expected to follow the rules, TransLink must ensure its machines work, its payment systems are reliable and people have a fair opportunity to pay.

I am asking for a formal investigation and a public response.

Because $173 is a lot of money when you're already struggling to get by.

And so is $20 when it's the only cash you have.

TransLink, we need answers.

#TransLink #CompassCard #VancouverTransit #TransitPolice #FareEnforcement #PublicTransportation #Poverty #Accessibility #Accountability #CostOfLiving

TransLink, where does the change go?

 

TransLink, where does the change go? An investigation into Compass Card vending machines

Dear TransLink,

We need to talk about your Compass Card vending machines.

Twice now, I have experienced problems trying to use coins to load my Compass Card.

The first time, the machine would not accept my toonies. I eventually had to put in a $20 bill. The machine credited $8 to my Compass Card and returned only $4 in change. That left $8 unaccounted for in the transaction.

Now, it has happened again. I couldn't get the machine to work with my change, and once again I had to resort to putting in a $20 bill.

What exactly is going on?

Your own website advertises that Compass vending machines accept coins and bills up to $20.

But what happens to someone who only has change?

What happens to a senior living on a limited pension, a student, someone receiving income assistance, or someone who has carefully budgeted their last few dollars for transportation?

Not everyone carries a debit or credit card. Not everyone has a $20 bill. And not everyone can afford to have their money tied up in a malfunctioning vending machine.

There is something particularly frustrating about a machine that won't accept the very coins it is advertised to accept, leaving customers to break a $20 bill and potentially receive more unusable coins in return.

This is not a minor inconvenience. It is an accessibility and affordability issue.

Public transportation is an essential service. It connects people to employment, medical appointments, grocery stores, education and family.

For people already struggling financially, every dollar matters.

We talk constantly about making public transportation accessible, encouraging people to leave their cars at home and providing affordable alternatives.

Yet here we are, with payment machines that may prevent people from using the payment method they actually have available.

And let's consider the bigger picture.

Vancouver is experiencing an affordability crisis. People are living on extremely limited incomes. Some are homeless. Others are working multiple jobs and still struggling to get by.

Why should accessing public transportation become another obstacle?

I am requesting a formal investigation.

I want TransLink to:

  1. Investigate why Compass vending machines are rejecting $2 coins and other coins.
  2. Examine whether this is an isolated problem or occurring across multiple stations.
  3. Audit the machines' coin acceptance, change dispensing and transaction records.
  4. Explain what happens to money when a machine fails to accept coins or returns incorrect change.
  5. Identify how customers can recover money lost through these malfunctions.
  6. Explain what maintenance and quality-control procedures are in place.
  7. Provide a timeline for correcting any recurring problems.

I also want to know who is accountable.

TransLink is governed by a Board of Directors, chaired by Allan Seckel, and its CEO is Kevin Quinn.

I would like this complaint brought to the attention of both management and the Board.

I am not interested in being told simply to use another payment method.

I want the machines to do what TransLink says they are supposed to do.

A question for TransLink:

If someone arrives at a SkyTrain station with nothing but a handful of toonies and loonies, are they supposed to be able to purchase their fare?

Or has public transportation quietly become another service that works best for people who have bank accounts, credit cards and enough money to absorb the inconvenience when something goes wrong?

People who are already struggling financially should not have to fight a vending machine to access public transportation.

Please investigate this. And please explain where our money is going.

A public transit system should serve the public. All of the public.

This is not just about a few coins. It is about accessibility, accountability and treating people with dignity.

peace begins with how we treat one another

 

peace begins with how we treat one another

There is something worth thinking about in the recent controversy surrounding the Nobel Peace Prize.

Donald Trump wanted the Nobel Peace Prize. He made no secret of it. When the 2026 prize was awarded to South African jurist Navi Pillay instead, his reaction became another public spectacle.

But let's put the award aside for a moment.

What does it mean to be a leader? And what kind of example are we setting for future generations?

Professionalism, manners, ethics and respect aren't old-fashioned ideas. They are the foundations of how we live together, how we resolve disagreements and how we build trust.

You don't have to agree with someone to treat them with dignity. You don't have to like a decision to respond with grace. And you certainly don't have to resort to insults, profanity or personal attacks when things don't go your way.

In fact, that's when character matters most.

Leadership comes with responsibility. The words of people in positions of power travel much further than ordinary conversations. They are heard by children, repeated by supporters, reported around the world and sometimes adopted as acceptable behaviour.

What happens when the people at the top demonstrate that it's perfectly acceptable to insult someone who disagrees with you, belittle an individual who receives recognition instead of you, or publicly disparage an entire country because you didn't get what you wanted?

What are young people supposed to learn from that?

We spend so much time talking about bullying in schools, respectful workplaces, online harassment and teaching children to manage their emotions. Yet the behaviour of influential adults can undermine those very lessons.

We cannot teach respect while modelling disrespect.

And there's an irony in campaigning for a Nobel Peace Prize while responding to disappointment with hostility and insults.

Peace isn't simply the absence of war. It requires diplomacy, patience, listening, compromise, accountability and the ability to disagree without turning another person into an enemy.

It requires recognizing that other people have dignity, even when they don't give us what we want.

Nobody expects world leaders to be perfect. They are human, and they will make mistakes. But professionalism also means knowing when to step back, consider your words and take responsibility for your actions.

An apology can demonstrate more leadership than a thousand speeches.

The Nobel Peace Prize is not a popularity contest or a participation trophy. It represents a particular ideal: the work of bringing people and nations closer to peace.

Perhaps we should all be asking ourselves a simple question:

If we want future generations to build a more peaceful world, shouldn't the adults leading today's world demonstrate what that actually looks like?

You cannot demand respect while refusing to show it.

You cannot build bridges while constantly burning them.

And it's pretty difficult to create peace when your first response to disappointment is to swear at people.

Peace begins with how we treat one another. That lesson shouldn't be too difficult for any of us to understand.

when you need a phone to get help, who helps the people without one?

 

when you need a phone to get help, who helps the people without one?

The hidden cost of accessing government services in Canada.

I learned something about the telephone system the hard way.

During the CERB confusion, when Canadians were being told to call the government for answers, I tried. Again and again.

You would finally get connected, only to be told to wait. Seventeen minutes, sometimes longer.

At the time, I had a mobile plan that cost me $50 a month. It included just 100 daytime minutes and 1 MB of data.

Think about that.

I could spend a significant portion of my monthly calling allowance simply waiting for someone at a government department to answer a question.

And what if I got disconnected?

What if I needed to call back?

What if I couldn't afford another month of service?

My phone situation has only recently changed. Between 2019 and this year, I spent much of my time in Mexico with my phone on airplane mode. I was barely using it, but maintaining access to a phone in Canada was still another expense.

That experience got me thinking about something much bigger.

what about people who don't have a phone?

We increasingly expect people to manage their lives through technology.

Apply for benefits online. Verify your identity. Receive a security code. Call a department. Download a document. Check an application. Wait for a callback.

But what happens when you are homeless?

Phones get lost, stolen, damaged or disconnected. People living outside may not have somewhere safe to charge a device. They may not have an internet connection, a permanent mailing address or money to maintain a monthly plan.

Some people don't have identification or the documents required to get through online verification.

Others simply cannot afford a phone.

And yet, these are often the very people who need government assistance most.

Imagine being hungry, sleeping outside and trying to apply for income assistance. You are told to call a number, but you have no phone.

Imagine finding a borrowed phone, getting through to an automated system, being placed on hold, and then losing the connection because the owner needs their phone back.

Imagine having to explain your circumstances repeatedly to different departments, none of which seems able to take responsibility for helping you.

How is someone supposed to get back on their feet under those circumstances?

technology is not the same thing as accessibility

We hear a lot about digital transformation, efficiency and modernizing government services.

Technology can certainly make services easier for some people.

But making something available online doesn't automatically make it accessible.

And replacing human assistance with automated systems doesn't necessarily save money if people cannot get the help they need.

The federal government's own reports have acknowledged barriers experienced by people who are homeless or living in poverty, including difficulties with telephone access, internet access, identity verification and obtaining documents.

These are not imaginary problems. They are known barriers.

Yet the responsibility for overcoming them is frequently left to the individual.

the hidden cost of waiting

There is another issue here: who pays for the time spent waiting?

If a government department has long telephone queues, the person calling may be paying for that time through their mobile plan.

Someone with unlimited calling might barely notice.

Someone with 100 minutes a month notices every minute.

Someone with a prepaid phone may run out of credit before reaching an actual person.

The department may record a call as answered or eventually completed, but that doesn't tell us what it cost the person trying to get help.

And this brings me back to the question of accountability.

We can measure call volumes, waiting times, customer satisfaction and service targets. But are we measuring how many people never get through at all?

How many abandon the call?

How many cannot call because they have no phone?

How many miss deadlines because they cannot access the system?

Those people may not appear in the department's customer-service statistics.

Their absence can make a broken system look more successful than it really is.

a basic right shouldn't depend on a monthly phone bill

I'm not suggesting that everyone needs a government-issued smartphone.

I'm suggesting that essential government services must have alternatives.

  • Free telephone access to government departments.
  • Call-back options that don't require people to remain on hold.
  • In-person assistance for people who cannot use digital services.
  • Community access points where people can use a phone, computer and scanner.
  • Flexible identity verification for people without permanent addresses or conventional documents.
  • A way to apply for and receive benefits without owning a smartphone.

And these alternatives need to be properly funded and available, not just listed on a government website.

who is being left out?

There is a difference between making a service available and making sure people can actually use it.

A person who is housed, employed and connected may never realize how many steps are involved in accessing assistance.

But take away the phone, the address, the internet, the identification and the money to maintain them.

Suddenly, even asking for help becomes an obstacle course.

We talk about reducing poverty, ending homelessness and helping people become independent.

But independence requires access.

You cannot tell someone to get back on their feet while putting essential services behind a wall of technology they cannot afford.

And perhaps the most important question is this:

If someone needs government assistance but cannot afford the technology required to access it, who is responsible for making sure they aren't left behind?

Government services are supposed to serve the public.

That includes the people without phones.

Because being poor should not mean being disconnected from the very services designed to help you.


#PovertyInCanada #Homelessness #DigitalDivide #GovernmentAccountability #CRA #CERB #SocialAssistance #DigitalAccessibility #HousingCrisis #LeaveNoOneBehind

the morning after halloween

 the morning after halloween

Halloween is over. Día de Muertos begins.

It was 5:30 in the morning, and I was still awake.

A friend's clock had been ticking all night. Apparently, he can not hear it anymore, but I certainly can. So, rather than lie there listening to every second pass, I decided to go for a little walk.

The streets were quiet. Halloween decorations still lingered, and the excitement of the previous evening had given way to the stillness of early morning.

Then I noticed a woman going through the recycling.

I'd seen her around before, carrying her belongings in grocery bags. This morning, she was looking for refundable cans.

I stopped for a moment.

There is something about seeing an elderly person searching through discarded bottles and cans that stays with you. Not because the person is doing anything wrong, but because you wonder how we have arrived at a place where this is how someone has to get through the day.

I thought about how easily circumstances could have been different for me.

Not long ago, I was struggling to figure out where I would live, how I would find work and how I would manage to keep going. A little help from family, a part-time cleaning job and an unexpected opportunity to get away have changed what the next few months look like.

Sometimes the distance between having a roof over your head and searching through recycling is smaller than people imagine.

I went back inside, and from the window I noticed movement in the alley across the street. There she was again, searching through another recycling bin.

At that very moment, a very long limousine rolled down the street.

I couldn't help noticing the contrast.

One person searching for a few refundable cans. Another travelling in a vehicle that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent.

Perhaps there was a perfectly ordinary explanation for the limousine. Maybe several people had hired it together. Still, the timing was something else.

And it got me thinking about the city I am about to leave.

Another familiar building is apparently facing redevelopment, with talk of towers reaching extraordinary heights. Neighbourhoods are changing, housing is becoming increasingly difficult to find, and even the everyday character of our streets seems to be shifting.

In six months, I wonder how much will have changed.

Will I recognise the neighbourhood? Will the familiar places still be there? What will happen to the people who are already struggling to find their place in it?

I'm leaving Vancouver for a while, and honestly, I'm looking forward to the change of scenery.

But before I go, I want to acknowledge something.

I am grateful.

Grateful for the family who stepped up when I needed help. Grateful for the part-time work that gives me a little breathing room. Grateful for a plane ticket, a bicycle, a few bananas and some honey.

Grateful for a lovely Halloween evening, the wonderful costumes, the decorated houses and the memories of taking my kid trick-or-treating years ago.

Grateful that the rain washed my murals clean and that, with the sunshine and high tide, they were looking beautiful again.

Grateful to be part of the Eastside Culture Crawl.

Grateful for a little message from my kid.

And grateful for Orion, visible in the early morning sky.

I will see that familiar constellation again in Mexico.

Today is Día de Muertos, a day for remembering, honouring and celebrating life. It seems an appropriate day to reflect on how fragile, unpredictable and precious our lives really are.

We spend so much time worrying about what comes next that sometimes we forget to notice what we have right now.

I don't know what Vancouver will look like when I return.

But I know this: nobody should have to search through rubbish bins to get by while we build taller towers and stretch our city further into the sky.

A city should be measured by more than its skyline.

It should also be measured by how it looks after the people who call it home.

For today, I'm counting my blessings, looking forward to the journey, and wishing everyone a little more kindness.

Happy Día de Muertos.


My Mother

Family

Family

My mom

#Vancouver #Kitsilano #HousingCrisis #Homelessness #DíaDeMuertos #Gratitude #Community #UrbanDevelopment #PeopleMatter #APlaceToCallHome


halloween in the floating village

 

halloween in the floating village: when the billionaires came ashore

October 31. Some years after the world as we knew it came to an end.

There were no trick-or-treaters knocking on doors this Halloween. There weren't many doors left to knock on, and nobody was selling bags of miniature chocolate bars.

The old world had changed.

The stock markets were silent. Governments had collapsed or become little more than memories. Banks, corporations and international supply chains that once seemed indestructible had disappeared. There were no paycheques, no mortgages, no shopping malls full of Halloween decorations, and certainly no one arguing about the price of pumpkin spice lattes.

People had other things to worry about.

Food. Water. Shelter. Staying warm.

And finding a way forward.

But something rather extraordinary had happened along the coast.

The cruise ships had come together.

One by one, enormous vessels that once carried thousands of holidaymakers around the world had been brought into sheltered waters. Yachts, ferries, old fishing boats and even a few extravagant megayachts joined them.

They were secured alongside one another, forming something that resembled a giant floating village.

It wasn't particularly pretty.

Some ships were rusting. Others had broken windows, faded paint and empty swimming pools. The enormous dining rooms that once served endless buffets had become communal kitchens.

The former luxury suites were now homes.

The decks had been transformed into gardens. Vegetables grew in enormous planters. Someone had figured out how to grow potatoes in recycled containers, while another group was experimenting with floating gardens.

The swimming pools? Some had become water storage. Others were being used for growing fish.

There were workshops, classrooms, a small medical centre and places where people could repair things rather than throw them away.

The old world had been very good at throwing things away.

This new one couldn't afford to.

And the billionaires?

Well, some had arrived with their enormous yachts, only to discover that a million-dollar vessel was not much use without fuel, a functioning supply chain or someone willing to maintain it.

A few had brought their crews. Others had arrived alone.

It didn't take long to discover that money wasn't particularly useful anymore.

Knowing how to repair an engine was.

Knowing how to grow food was.

Knowing how to work with other people was perhaps the most valuable skill of all.

There were no VIP decks. No exclusive restaurants. No priority boarding.

Everyone had something to contribute.

And if they didn't know how, someone taught them.

On Halloween evening, a group of children decorated the entrance to the floating village with lanterns made from old glass jars. Someone had carved a pumpkin, and a few others had managed to find enough fabric to make costumes.

There was a pirate, a mermaid, a rather convincing sea monster and one little boy dressed as a billionaire.

He wore an oversized suit, a cardboard crown and carried a toy yacht.

"Who are you supposed to be?" someone asked.

"A billionaire," he announced proudly.

"And what do you do?"

"I own everything!"

The adults laughed.

"Not anymore, you don't," someone called from the kitchen.

For a moment, everyone laughed a little harder than they probably should have.

Later, as the sun disappeared behind the coastline, the village lights began to glow. A few small solar systems powered the lanterns. Someone played music on an old guitar. The kitchen smelled of roasted vegetables, fresh bread and something resembling pumpkin soup.

Nobody was checking their bank balance.

Nobody was worrying about tomorrow's commute.

Nobody was trying to impress the neighbours.

They were simply grateful to be warm, fed and together.

Perhaps that was the strangest Halloween of all.

The monsters hadn't come out of the dark.

They had been part of the old world all along: greed, excess, indifference and the belief that there would always be more.

And somewhere, among the rusting cruise ships and newly planted gardens, people were beginning to discover that the world didn't need to be rebuilt exactly as it had been.

It could be rebuilt differently.

Happy Halloween from the floating village.

Sometimes the end of one world is the beginning of another.

when a graduation party becomes a public safety emergency

 

when a graduation party becomes a public safety emergency: where is the accountability?

There are some stories that leave me shaking my head, and this is one of them.

A graduation celebration aboard a charter boat in Vancouver's Burrard Inlet turned into a major emergency when a vessel carrying more than 150 students and chaperones ran aground near Maplewood Flats.

Thankfully, nobody was injured. The Coast Guard and marine rescue personnel came to the rescue, evacuating everyone safely.

But what initially sounded like a boating accident has taken a much more troubling turn.

According to the cruise operator's findings, someone allegedly removed the protective cage covering the emergency engine shut-off and activated the kill switch while the vessel was underway.

The engine stopped. The current pushed the boat off course, and the propeller struck a sandbar.

If this account is accurate, we're not talking about an unfortunate mechanical failure. We're talking about someone interfering with a safety mechanism on a passenger vessel carrying a boatload of young people.

And that brings me to some questions.

transportation investigation versus criminal investigation

The Transportation Safety Board is investigating the incident. That's important, but a transportation safety investigation and a criminal investigation serve different purposes.

The TSB looks at what happened, why it happened and how similar incidents can be prevented.

Police investigate potential criminal conduct, identify suspects and determine whether charges are warranted.

So where does the police investigation stand?

The RCMP marine unit attended the original incident, but I haven't found confirmation that a separate criminal investigation has been opened.

If someone deliberately tampered with emergency equipment, shouldn't that be investigated?

Who removed the protective cage? Who activated the switch? Was it a prank? Was it intentional sabotage? Was anyone aware of what they were doing?

We don't know. And that's precisely why an investigation matters.

who pays for the rescue?

Let's talk about public resources.

A major marine rescue operation involving the Coast Guard and other emergency personnel was required to bring everyone to safety.

These services exist for emergencies. Nobody should hesitate to rescue people because of their financial circumstances, age, background or social status.

Every life matters.

But emergency services are not toys, and public resources are not unlimited.

There are people sleeping on Vancouver sidewalks tonight. People who cannot afford rent, food or basic necessities. People waiting for help, struggling to survive and wondering where they will sleep tomorrow.

Meanwhile, a graduation celebration involving well-resourced families required a substantial public emergency response.

I'm not suggesting those young people should have been left stranded. Absolutely not.

I'm asking whether the person responsible, if deliberate tampering is established, will be held accountable.

what are young people learning?

Graduation is supposed to mark a transition into adulthood.

It's a celebration of achievement, friendships, possibilities and the beginning of another chapter.

But adulthood also comes with responsibility.

A prank stops being funny when it puts 150 lives at risk.

An emergency switch is not a toy. A passenger vessel is not a playground. And the people operating it have a responsibility to keep everyone aboard safe.

If someone deliberately interfered with the vessel's safety equipment, there should be consequences appropriate to what the investigation establishes.

Being young doesn't mean being beyond accountability. Neither does having money, connections or influential parents.

And if nobody is identified, we still need to understand why this happened and what safeguards failed.

questions the public deserves answered

  1. Has the RCMP opened a criminal investigation into the alleged tampering?
  2. If not, why not?
  3. Has anyone been interviewed or identified as a potential suspect?
  4. Was the protective cage examined for fingerprints or other evidence?
  5. Were passengers and crew interviewed?
  6. Were security cameras or other recordings available?
  7. Could the person responsible face criminal charges?
  8. Who is paying for the emergency response?
  9. What additional safety measures will be introduced?
  10. Most importantly, what message are we sending if someone can potentially put more than 150 lives at risk and there is no meaningful accountability?

this isn't about privilege. it's about responsibility.

I am relieved that everyone made it home safely. I wouldn't wish that experience on anyone, and I'm certainly not blaming the graduates collectively.

But I don't think we should simply move on because nobody was hurt.

Sometimes we measure the seriousness of an incident by its outcome rather than by the potential consequences.

This time, everyone survived. That doesn't make the alleged actions any less serious.

Imagine if the current had been stronger, if the boat had struck something else, or if someone had gone overboard.

We could be having a very different conversation.

I want to know whether police are investigating, whether anyone will be held responsible and whether the public will receive some answers.

Because accountability shouldn't depend on who you are, how much money your family has or whether an incident makes the evening news.

A prank is only funny when everyone gets to go home safely.

And public safety deserves more than a shrug and a transportation report.


Vancouver #BurrardInlet #PublicSafety #Accountability #MarineSafety #RCMP


Saturday, October 31, 2026

Happy Halloween

a halloween walk down memory lane in kitsilano 🎃

There is something rather magical about Halloween in Kitsilano.




Tonight, I decided to take a little trip down memory lane, revisiting some of the old neighbourhoods and houses where I used to take my kid trick-or-treating.

Oh, the memories!

The little feet running from house to house, the excitement of collecting candy, the costumes, the anticipation and the occasional negotiation over how much chocolate was an acceptable amount to eat before bedtime.

Some things never change.

I ran into a friend and decided to stay awhile to watch the little monsters arrive. And what a parade it was!

The creativity! The imagination!

There were Harry Potters, Wednesdays, witches, monsters, and a few characters that required a little detective work to identify.

I spotted what I think was Sulley from Monsters, Inc. — goodness, that movie is more than 20 years old now. Where does the time go?

There were four enormous axolotls (yes, four!), and one very impressive big frog. I'm not entirely sure what was happening in the amphibian department, but they were certainly making an appearance.

And the houses!

Some people really went all out. Elaborate decorations, spooky lighting, mysterious doorways, creepy creatures and enough cobwebs to make you wonder whether the homeowners had actually decorated or simply stopped cleaning in September.

Some front yards looked like the beginning of a particularly suspicious fairy tale.

I half expected a witch to invite me inside for tea, only to discover the teapot had other plans.

Walking through the neighbourhood, I couldn't help thinking about all those Halloweens years ago, when my own little trick-or-treater was part of the excitement.

The children have changed, the costumes have become more elaborate, and the decorations seem to get bigger every year. But the anticipation is still there.

For one evening, the neighbourhood belongs to the children, the imagination runs wild, and grown-ups get to play along.

Perhaps that's the real magic of Halloween.

You can grow older, but you're never too old to appreciate a good monster, a clever costume, a mysterious house or a little bit of mischief.

And if you happen to see four giant axolotls walking down the street, just smile and keep moving.

It's Halloween in Kitsilano. Apparently, anything is possible.

Happy Halloween, everyone! 🎃


quand on n’a plus les moyens de vivre dans son propre pays

 

quand on n’a plus les moyens de vivre dans son propre pays

Parfois, les histoires que nous rencontrons dans notre vie quotidienne nous obligent à nous arrêter et à réfléchir à ce qui se passe autour de nous.

Je me promène à vélo dans Vancouver, à la recherche de travail, d’un logement abordable et en essayant de trouver comment je vais pouvoir continuer à avoir un toit au-dessus de ma tête.

La semaine dernière, alors que je circulais à vélo, j’ai trouvé le portefeuille d’une femme.

Je l’ai ramassé, je me suis assurée qu’il retourne à sa propriétaire et, ce faisant, j’ai appris un peu de son histoire.

Cela m’a rappelé qu’il y a tant de personnes qui essaient simplement de joindre les deux bouts. Des personnes qui étudient, travaillent, jonglent avec leurs responsabilités et font tout leur possible pour se construire une vie ici.

Puis, j’ai lu un article du North Shore News au sujet d’une femme mexicaine vivant au Canada qui aurait promis à une autre femme mexicaine un emploi qui n’existait pas, en utilisant de faux documents d’emploi pour faciliter son arrivée au Canada.

Ce n’était pas la première fois que je tombais sur des histoires de ce genre.

J’ai déjà fait des recherches sur la fraude dans le domaine de l’éducation, les abus liés au Programme des travailleurs étrangers temporaires, les arnaques à l’immigration et l’exploitation des personnes qui viennent au Canada en croyant qu’un véritable emploi les attend.

Des gens se font exploiter de toutes sortes de façons.

Les nouveaux arrivants méritent des offres d’emploi honnêtes, un logement décent et une protection contre l’exploitation.

Les travailleurs canadiens méritent eux aussi des possibilités d’emploi équitables.

Les jeunes ne devraient pas avoir besoin de plusieurs emplois simplement pour survivre. Les travailleurs plus âgés ne devraient pas devenir invisibles. Et les personnes qui ont travaillé pendant presque toute leur vie ne devraient pas se retrouver confrontées à l’itinérance.

Mais je veux revenir à quelque chose de personnel.

Je lutte pour trouver un logement depuis 2019. Cela fait trois ans que je n’arrive pas à trouver un emploi régulier. J’ai 64 ans et, même si je devrais commencer à recevoir ma pension au début de l’année prochaine, elle ne sera pas suffisante pour louer un logement à Vancouver.

Alors, quelles options me reste-t-il?

Je ne veux pas devenir une autre personne sans domicile qui erre dans les rues la nuit, transportant toutes ses possessions dans des sacs d’épicerie.

Je pense à cette femme que j’ai vue dans les rues, transportant toutes ses affaires dans des sacs d’épicerie du magasin No Frills. Je l’ai vue dehors, allant d’un endroit à l’autre avec tout ce qu’elle possède dans ces sacs.

Je ne veux pas que ce soit mon avenir.

Je ne veux pas passer mes nuits à errer dans les rues, avec mes affaires dans des sacs d’épicerie, à essayer de trouver un endroit sûr et chaud.

Je ne veux pas devenir une autre personne que les gens croisent sans même la voir.

Je ne veux pas dormir dehors dans le froid, en me demandant où je serai en sécurité, où je trouverai de quoi manger ou si je réussirai à traverser un autre hiver.

J’ai peur. C’est la vérité.

Et c’est pour cela que je pars au Mexique.

Je visite le Mexique depuis 1997. J’aime les gens, la culture et les liens que j’y ai tissés. Je sais que ce n’est pas une solution magique et que vivre dans un autre pays comporte ses propres défis.

Mais j’ai la possibilité de trouver un endroit où vivre à un coût plus abordable, où mes revenus limités pourront aller un peu plus loin et où, je l’espère, je pourrai traverser les prochaines années sans perdre ma dignité.

Je n’aurais jamais imaginé qu’à 64 ans, je devrais quitter le Canada parce que je n’ai pas les moyens d’y vieillir.

Je ne veux pas laisser derrière moi mon art, mes écrits, ma communauté ni le pays où j’ai passé une si grande partie de ma vie.

Mais je ne veux pas non plus mourir dans une rue froide en attendant de recevoir ma pension.

Et je ne pense pas que qui que ce soit devrait avoir à faire ce choix.

quelques questions que nous devons nous poser

Pourquoi les personnes qui veulent travailler n’arrivent-elles pas à trouver un emploi?

Pourquoi les travailleurs plus âgés sont-ils mis de côté?

Pourquoi les jeunes doivent-ils cumuler plusieurs emplois simplement pour survivre?

Combien de nouveaux arrivants sont exploités au moyen de fausses offres d’emploi?

Qui surveille adéquatement le Programme des travailleurs étrangers temporaires?

Les employeurs et les consultants en immigration doivent-ils rendre des comptes lorsqu’ils exploitent des personnes vulnérables?

Pourquoi une personne qui a travaillé et contribué à la société pendant des années ne peut-elle pas se permettre un logement modeste à la retraite?

Qu’est-il arrivé à la promesse selon laquelle le travail acharné devait nous apporter une certaine sécurité?

Pourquoi considérons-nous le logement comme une occasion d’investissement plutôt que comme un besoin humain fondamental?

Quel genre de pays voulons-nous devenir?

Je ne blâme pas la femme qui est venue ici à la recherche d’une vie meilleure. Je ne blâme pas la jeune femme dont j’ai rapporté le portefeuille. Et je ne blâme pas non plus les personnes qui essaient simplement de survivre.

Je blâme un système qui semble de moins en moins capable de répondre aux besoins fondamentaux des gens ordinaires.

Nous pouvons accueillir les nouveaux arrivants tout en protégeant les travailleurs canadiens. Nous pouvons nous préoccuper des questions d’immigration tout en exigeant que les responsables rendent des comptes. Nous pouvons faire preuve de compassion envers tout le monde sans prétendre que tout fonctionne correctement.

J’aime le Canada. J’aime le Mexique.

Mais en ce moment, le Canada est devenu trop cher pour que je puisse encore l’appeler chez moi.

Et c’est une chose bien triste à devoir dire.


Mots-clés et hashtags

#LeLogementEstUnDroitHumain

#CriseDuLogementAuCanada

#Itinérance

#LogementAbordable

#RéformeDeLImmigration

#DroitsDesTravailleurs

#TravailleursÉtrangersTemporaires

#SécuritéÀLaRetraite

#CoûtDeLaVie

#DignitéPourTous

cuando no puedes permitirte vivir en tu propio país

 cuando no puedes permitirte vivir en tu propio país

A veces, las historias que encontramos en nuestra vida cotidiana nos hacen detenernos a pensar en lo que está sucediendo a nuestro alrededor.

He estado recorriendo Vancouver en bicicleta, tratando de encontrar trabajo, buscando una vivienda asequible e intentando descubrir cómo voy a poder seguir teniendo un techo sobre mi cabeza.

La semana pasada, mientras andaba en bicicleta, encontré la cartera de una mujer.

La recogí, me aseguré de que regresara a su dueña y, en el proceso, conocí un poco de su historia.

Me recordó que hay muchísimas personas intentando llegar a fin de mes. Personas que estudian, trabajan, equilibran sus responsabilidades y hacen todo lo posible por construir una vida aquí.

Después leí un artículo de North Shore News sobre una mujer mexicana que vive en Canadá y que, presuntamente, le prometió a otra mujer mexicana un trabajo que no existía, utilizando documentos laborales falsos para facilitar su llegada a Canadá.

No era la primera vez que encontraba historias como esta.

Ya he investigado el fraude educativo, los abusos dentro del Programa de Trabajadores Extranjeros Temporales, las estafas relacionadas con la inmigración y la explotación de personas que llegan a Canadá creyendo que les han ofrecido un empleo legítimo.

Hay personas que están siendo aprovechadas de muchas maneras.

Las personas recién llegadas merecen ofertas de trabajo honestas, viviendas dignas y protección contra la explotación.

Los trabajadores canadienses también merecen oportunidades laborales justas.

Los jóvenes no deberían necesitar varios trabajos simplemente para sobrevivir. Los trabajadores mayores no deberían volverse invisibles. Y las personas que han trabajado durante casi toda su vida no deberían terminar enfrentándose a la falta de vivienda.

Pero quiero volver a algo personal.

He estado luchando por encontrar vivienda desde 2019. Llevo tres años sin poder encontrar un empleo estable. Tengo 64 años y, aunque espero comenzar a recibir mi pensión a principios del próximo año, no será suficiente para alquilar una vivienda en Vancouver.

Entonces, ¿qué opciones tengo?

No quiero convertirme en otra persona sin hogar que deambula por las calles durante la noche, llevando todas sus pertenencias en bolsas del supermercado.

Pienso en la mujer que he visto caminando por las calles, cargando todas sus pertenencias en bolsas del supermercado No Frills. La he visto por ahí, yendo de un lugar a otro con todo lo que posee metido en esas bolsas.

No quiero que esa sea mi realidad.

No quiero pasar las noches caminando por las calles, cargando mis pertenencias en bolsas del supermercado, intentando encontrar un lugar seguro y cálido.

No quiero convertirme en otra persona a la que los demás pasan de largo sin siquiera verla.

No quiero dormir al aire libre en el frío, preguntándome dónde estaré segura, dónde encontraré comida o si conseguiré sobrevivir a otro invierno.

Tengo miedo. Esa es la verdad.

Y por eso me voy a México.

He visitado México desde 1997. Amo a su gente, su cultura y las conexiones que he creado allí. Sé que no es una solución mágica y que vivir en otro país también tiene sus propios desafíos.

Pero tengo la oportunidad de encontrar un lugar más económico donde vivir, donde mis ingresos limitados puedan rendir un poco más y donde, espero, pueda afrontar los años que vienen sin perder mi dignidad.

Nunca imaginé que a los 64 años tendría que dejar Canadá porque no puedo permitirme envejecer aquí.

No quiero dejar atrás mi arte, mis escritos, mi comunidad ni el país en el que he pasado gran parte de mi vida.

Pero tampoco quiero morir en una calle fría esperando que llegue mi pensión.

Y no creo que nadie debería tener que tomar esa decisión.

algunas preguntas que debemos hacernos

¿Por qué las personas que quieren trabajar no pueden encontrar empleo?

¿Por qué se ignora a los trabajadores mayores?

¿Por qué los jóvenes tienen que combinar varios trabajos simplemente para sobrevivir?

¿Cuántas personas recién llegadas están siendo explotadas mediante ofertas de trabajo fraudulentas?

¿Quién supervisa adecuadamente el Programa de Trabajadores Extranjeros Temporales?

¿Se exige responsabilidad a los empleadores y asesores de inmigración cuando explotan a personas vulnerables?

¿Por qué alguien que ha trabajado y contribuido a la sociedad no puede permitirse una vivienda modesta durante su jubilación?

¿Qué pasó con la promesa de que trabajar duro nos daría cierta seguridad?

¿Por qué tratamos la vivienda como una oportunidad de inversión en lugar de reconocerla como una necesidad humana básica?

¿En qué tipo de país queremos convertirnos?

No culpo a la mujer que vino aquí buscando una vida mejor. No culpo a la joven cuya cartera devolví. Y tampoco culpo a las personas que simplemente están intentando sobrevivir.

Culpo a un sistema que parece cada vez menos capaz de proporcionar lo básico a la gente común.

Podemos dar la bienvenida a los recién llegados y proteger a los trabajadores canadienses. Podemos preocuparnos por la inmigración y, al mismo tiempo, exigir responsabilidades. Podemos tener compasión por todos sin fingir que las cosas están funcionando.

Amo a Canadá. Amo a México.

Pero ahora mismo, Canadá se ha vuelto demasiado caro para que pueda llamarlo mi hogar.

Y es algo muy triste que tener que decir.


Palabras clave y hashtags

#LaViviendaEsUnDerechoHumano

#CrisisDeViviendaEnCanadá

#PersonasSinHogar

#ViviendaAsequible

#ReformaMigratoria

#DerechosLaborales

#TrabajadoresExtranjerosTemporales

#SeguridadEnLaJubilación

#CostoDeVida

#DignidadParaTodos

when you can't afford to stay in your own country

 

when you can't afford to stay in your own country

Sometimes the stories we encounter in everyday life make us stop and think about what is happening around us.

I've been riding my bike around Vancouver, trying to find work, trying to find affordable housing and trying to figure out how I'm going to keep a roof over my head.

Last week, while out riding, I came across a woman's wallet.

I picked it up, made sure it got back to its owner, and in the process learned a little about her life.

It reminded me that there are so many people trying to make ends meet. People studying, working, juggling responsibilities and doing whatever they can to build a life here.

Then I read a North Shore News story about a Mexican woman living in Canada who allegedly promised another Mexican woman a job that didn't exist, using false employment documents to facilitate her arrival in Canada.

It wasn't the first time I'd come across stories like this.

I've already researched education fraud, Temporary Foreign Worker Program abuses, immigration scams and the exploitation of people who come to Canada believing they have been offered genuine employment.

There are people being taken advantage of on all sides.

Newcomers deserve honest job offers, decent housing and protection from exploitation.

Canadian workers deserve fair employment opportunities, too.

Young people shouldn't need multiple jobs just to survive. Older workers shouldn't become invisible. And people who have worked most of their lives shouldn't be facing homelessness.

But I want to bring this back to something personal.

I've been struggling with housing since 2019. I've been unable to find regular employment for three years. I'm 64, and although my pension is expected to begin early next year, it won't be enough to rent a home in Vancouver.

So what choices do I have?

I don't want to become another homeless person wandering the streets at night, carrying everything I own in grocery bags.

I think about the woman I've seen wandering the streets, carrying all her possessions in No Frills grocery bags. I've seen her out there, moving from place to place with everything she owns in those bags.

I don't want that to be me.

I don't want to spend my nights wandering the streets, carrying my belongings in grocery bags, trying to find somewhere safe and warm.

I don't want to become another person people walk past without seeing.

I don't want to be sleeping outside in the cold, wondering where I'll be safe, where I'll find food or whether I'll make it through another winter.

I'm frightened. That's the truth.

And that's why I'm going to Mexico.

I've been visiting Mexico since 1997. I love the people, the culture and the connections I've made there. I know it isn't a magical solution, and living somewhere else comes with its own challenges.

But I have a chance to find somewhere more affordable to live, somewhere I can stretch my limited income and hopefully get through the years ahead without losing my dignity.

I didn't imagine that at 64 I'd be leaving Canada because I couldn't afford to grow old here.

I don't want to leave my art, my writing, my community or the country where I've spent so much of my life.

But I also don't want to die on a cold street waiting for my pension.

And I don't think anyone should have to make that choice.

some questions we need to ask

  1. Why are people who want to work unable to find employment?
  2. Why are older workers being overlooked?
  3. Why are young people juggling multiple jobs just to survive?
  4. How many newcomers are being exploited through fraudulent job offers?
  5. Who is properly monitoring the Temporary Foreign Worker Program?
  6. Are employers and immigration consultants being held accountable when they exploit vulnerable people?
  7. Why can't someone who has worked and contributed to society afford a modest home in retirement?
  8. What happened to the promise that hard work would provide some security?
  9. Why are we treating housing as an investment opportunity rather than a basic human necessity?
  10. What kind of country do we want to become?

I don't blame the woman who came here looking for a better life. I don't blame the young woman whose wallet I returned. And I don't blame people who are trying to survive.

I blame a system that seems increasingly unable to provide ordinary people with the basics.

We can welcome newcomers and protect Canadian workers. We can care about immigration and still demand accountability. We can have compassion for everyone without pretending that things are working.

I love Canada. I love Mexico.

But right now, Canada has become too expensive for me to call home.

And that is a very sad thing to have to say.


HousingIsAHumanRight

#CanadaHousingCrisis

#Homelessness

#AffordableHousing

#ImmigrationReform

#WorkersRights

#TemporaryForeignWorkers

#RetirementSecurity

#CostOfLiving

#DignityForAll

winter safety reminder: please be seen, please be safe

 

winter safety reminder: please be seen, please be safe

💔 Two heartbreaking reminders of how dangerous our roads can be: a 45-year-old was struck and killed, and a 7-year-old girl was hit by a vehicle. My heart goes out to everyone affected.

As we head into the dark, rainy months, I want to remind everyone who walks, cycles, or travels on foot: PLEASE WEAR BRIGHT COLOURS AND REFLECTIVE GEAR.

🌧️ Make yourself visible this fall and winter!

🟡 Wear bright, fluorescent colours instead of dark clothing.

✨ Add reflective tape to your jacket, backpack, shoes, umbrella, or bag.

🔦 Carry a flashlight or use a light when walking in poorly lit areas.

🚶 Cross at intersections and crosswalks whenever possible. Make eye contact with drivers if you can, but never assume they have seen you.

🚗 Drivers, please slow down! Rain, darkness, glare, and wet roads make it harder to see pedestrians and stop in time. Stay alert, put your phone away, and watch carefully for people crossing, especially children.

We all know that some drivers speed, and others are distracted. We cannot control their behaviour, but we can take steps to make ourselves more visible.

Please remember that wearing dark clothing on a rainy, overcast evening can make you almost invisible to a driver until it is too late.

A few seconds of extra caution could save a life.

Please share this reminder with your family, friends, neighbours, and especially anyone who walks to school or work.

Let's look out for one another. Nobody should lose their life simply trying to get where they need to go.

Be bright. Be visible. Slow down. Get home safely. ❤️

#WinterSafety #PedestrianSafety #RoadSafety #BeVisible #WearReflectiveGear #SlowDown #DistractedDriving #SchoolZoneSafety #StaySafe #LookOutForEachOther