Elephants are among my favourite animals, so I decided to post the above heartbreaking work of art to accompany this post. (I am reminded of my World Wildlife Day post from early March 2018.)
With big game hunting in the news periodically, I am infuriated by people killing endangered and/or big game on special hunting trips (I’m sure that you’ve seen the same clips). In order to prepare to write this post, I did a quick Google search for ‘big game hunting in Africa.’ I wish I hadn’t done that, as apparently big game hunters are in the market to hunt anything from: elephants, rhinos, leopards, Cape buffalo, lions and hippos. I don’t understand the psychology behind this, but maybe I don’t have to understand why the demand for big game hunting expeditions exists in order to assist in protecting such species.
Protesting by writing and/or attending/organizing protests, raising awareness via social media and within your community, and (most influentially) using the almighty dollar to protest by refusing to spend money in countries or on goods produced in countries with lax laws/regulations in regards to protecting endangered species assist in protecting these animals.
As I live in Canada, I am interested in knowing more about the species that live in my backyard. I found this quote on the Nature Canada website:
In 2003, after a lot of hard work, the federal government agreed and moved forward with the Species at Risk Act, thus protecting over 200 hugely important species for Canada including:
-gray whales;
-tiger salamanders;
-cucumber trees;
-mudpuppy mussels; and
-whooping cranes
I am familiar with 2 of the 5 listed above. (That’s bad.)
If you’d like to know more about the wildlife and endangered species in Canada, please take some time to learn more about Nature Canada here and check out this (sadly) much longer list of endangered species here.
Whether you are an expert on wildlife and the environment, or you have more to learn (like me), with clear goals and loud voices, we can make a difference for many endangered species with whom we share our planet (but we must act quickly).
Today is International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia.
Regardless of your sexual orientation, or whether or not you identify as transgender, it is vital that society recognizes the human rights violations that stem from hatred and ignorance.
It’s Sunday, May 13, 2018- Happy Mother’s Day! (Where I am, at least).
Not to start off too sentimental or anything (*cue sarcasm*), but I have always been interested in the English language; when I was a kid, I wondered whether it was correct to write ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ or ‘Happy Mothers’ Day’ on my Mother’s Mother’s Day card (my rationale was simply that there are many mothers in the world, and it’s their day, so wouldn’t Mothers’ Day be preferred?). Fortunately, the Internet has cleared this up; both are of course grammatically correct, but it is my understanding that the intention of Mother’s Day is to celebrate your own mother (rather than all mothers).
Happy Saturday! Thank you for visiting my blog to read part 9 of my Saturday Story: Rags to Riches. If you missed part 8 last week, you can find it here.
Feel free to let me know what you think by commenting below, and please be sure to come back in two weeks (May 26, 2018) for part 10!
I am not a homeowner, but I have always wanted to own property. My grandfather worked in real estate, and always advised family members to “own a piece of dirt” (because they’re not making any more land). I’m in my early thirties and I have yet to achieve this goal. In pursuit of answers, I attended the Fireplace Financial Chat, hosted by Cashflow Planning & Group Benefits Advisor, Joy A. Adams, this past Saturday at the Lakeshore branch of the Innisfil Public Library. This month’s guest speaker was Renee Dadswell, a mortgage agent from The Mortgage Station. To my surprise, I found not only answers, but peace of mind.
Hello! Thank you for visiting my blog to read part 8 of my Saturday Story: Rags to Riches. Feel free to let me know what you think by commenting below, and please be sure to come back next week for part 9!
Give your life the green light. It’s A Go!
Amber Green
Rags to Riches: Part 8
Rags to Riches. Art by Dixie Foxton; used with permission.
To Riches:
I looked up at the brand new sign- Engines & Fenders; it was one of hundreds in the country. I had been to a number of new openings, but it was always a thrill. In the coming years, we planned to grow the chain to thousands of locations worldwide. It had come a long way from that one little location on Main street.
From Rags:
I concentrated on looking normal; my face relaxed and interested (but not too interested) in the conversation my family and Chris’s friend, Dave were having during brunch at my parents’ house. (Dave may or may not be Chris’s secret make-out partner from the auto repair shop yesterday, dubbed ‘Mr. Mystery Arms’ by my sister, Priscilla and I).
“Thank you very much for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bruno,” Dave said politely, after introductions had been made.
“Not at all!” my mother replied. “I miss when Priscilla, Frankie and Chris were in school. We always had their friends over.”
“So, Dave what do you do?” my father asked.
“I’m a mechanic,” Dave answered. I have my own auto repair shop on Main Street.”
“Engines & Fenders?” my dad asked him, as I dug into my mom’s famous frittata.
“That’s the one,” Dave said with a smile.
“I like that place,” my dad said, approvingly.
“You’re very young to have your own business,” my mother said, admiringly.
“Well, my parents owned the business; they sold it to me when they retired last year. I learned about cars from them.”
“See, Chris, your friend may have had a leg up, but he’s clearly driven-” my mother started.
“Yeah, you should hang out with him more- maybe his good habits will rub off on you,” my father finished my mother’s thought. Whether it was simply bad timing, or my father’s statement caught me off guard, I started choking on my eggs.
Everyone stared at me, as I continued to choke. My mom and dad asked if I was okay, and looked ready to jump out of their chairs if I required the Heimlich maneuver. I motioned that I was fine, and took a sip of water. Clearly, I was failing miserably at ‘looking normal.’
Once I had recovered, and conversation resumed, I noticed Chris glance at me from the corner of my eye. It was brief, but I swear I saw him smirk.
Why would he smirk? I wondered. No one had just told a joke– unless… That little putz! I thought to myself. He did see us last night! And now, what? He’s punishing my sister and me for not telling him? What’s wrong with him?
We finished brunch, and my sister started gathering the kids after we helped our mother clear the table. “You can’t leave yet,” I whispered to my sister, after she thanked our mother for brunch.
“Why? The boys need to go,” Priscilla said- our brother and his possible-lover clearly not high on her list of priorities.
“They’re kids! Whose birthday party is it? One of the royals? Seriously- they can be five minutes late,” I hissed at my sister. “Boys, help grandma tidy up. Dad, I’m sure Dave would love to see your car-” I said. The boys set to work (getting in my mom’s way more than helping, I’m sure).
“That’s a good idea, Frankie,” my father replied, predictably. “Luke, come with us,” my father said.
“We’ll be right out,” I called to my father. Before Chris could follow them, I grabbed his arm and commandeered my siblings into my parents’ laundry room, closing the door behind us.
“Who goes into the laundry room to talk?” Chris asked.
“Shut up, Chris,” I said, immaturely. I locked eyes with my brother, and waited a beat. “You saw us,” I said, looking at my sister.
“You saw us,” my brother said. Immaturity was running rampant today; I thought it juvenile for my brother to bring ‘Mr. Mystery-Arms’ to brunch before we spoke, and I had just forced my adult siblings into the laundry room at our parents’ house; despite all of it, in that moment, Chris didn’t look like my little brother; he looked like a man who knew who he was. Unafraid. Unapologetic. Honest.
Without another word, Priscilla and I embraced our brother.
*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
