Mythos & Marginalia

life notes between the lines and along the edges


  • necessary infrastructure

    Now in the third week, the labour unrest at Canada Post continues to affect this country financially and ideologically.

       The Canadian Union of Postal Workers (CUPW) and Crown corporation are, apparently, so far apart in negotiations that government-appointed meditator called off the mediation process.

       The strike is costing business — small business in particular — millions of dollars at a time this country cannot afford it. Yes, the big for-profit courier companies seem to be handling the sharp untick in traffic at the busiest time of year for package delivery, but Christmas day draws ever closer. It is more than an inconvenience as we all are readying packages for faraway family and friends. Many of us are now forced into making gift choices though online services like Amazon and the like.

       For me it is personal. I do, and still, enjoy sending Christmas cards. While I have regular letters to reply to — a daughter in Winnipeg, pen pal in the U.K., cousin in Connecticut, and a couple of friends in other U.S. states and Canadian provinces — I’ve got another list of people that I, perhaps, only write to once a year. A Christmas card is always fitting.

       I have news to share of next year’s travel plans, a new house and address, and all sorts of personal updates.

       I’ve not been writing as much lately. Mentally it has been that kind of a year, so the cards to me, this year, seem a little more important. Handwriting a letter provides a necessary break for my online mind. I’ve got things to say and nothing says it better than a handwritten letter.

       While the digital age has allowed instant communication, it is not the same. Email, fundamentally, will not replace the postal service that has become a necessary component of our history.

       The postal union (with its 55,000 members) is seeking higher wages, better medical benefits and changes to the postal service’s use of temporary workers. Canada Post has said the CUPW’s bargaining table demands are challenging its “comprehensive framework for reaching negotiated agreements.”

       At the heart of the labour strife is the unreal expectation that the crown corporation should make a profit. What seems to have been ignored is the fact that a reliable mail service is necessary infrastructure, like a sewer system or multi-lane highway. 

       You cannot derive a profit from the millions of kilometers of urban streets and rural highways, or national parks, but we all count on them to be there. Just as we count on the mail service.

       Realistically, it never should have come to this. Agreed, negotiations with a strong labour union have been difficult historically, but Jean-Yves Duclos, Minister of Public Services and Procurement, is the minister responsible for Canada Post. 

       Duclos, as the representative responsible, has been irresponsible by allowing this to drag on so long. Labour minister Steven MacKinnon shares the blame, as does Prime Minster Justin Trudeau, boss to both elected officials. Now, I recognize the PM has a lot of other things on his plate (including his plans to get re-elected next time around) but he should be ensuring the mail gets through. 

       Word is the feds are not even considering binding arbitration. MacKinnon said deals must be achieved through compromise, but added it was necessary for the Crown corporation because it was at an “obvious pivot point” in its history.

       Given that every labour contract has a fixed end date, the federal government and Crown corporation should have been working on these pivots ages ago and not waiting until the contract had expired. It was unfortunate, and irresponsible, not to do so. 

       Look at where we are and how much it is costing us as individually and as a country.

    © 2024 j.g. lewis

  • regret

    Saturated in juvenile jealousies, raw emotions,

    catastrophes, ever the mind considers shards

    of a certain past.

     

    Memories, like mistakes, cannot be avoided.

     

    Not unlike prerogative, our tarnished views

    contained within cognitive reality, blindside

    everyday moments.

     

    What were you thinking, at the time. Or now?

     

    Held hostage, even today, by unearned feelings.

    We deal with what we have done or what we

    did not. Then. Or ever.

     

    Regret has a way of overtaking the mind. 

     

    Clouded dreams, dogma, brittle curiosities,

    conspiracy theories you only slightly believe,

    forever captured.

     

    What matters is how you accept the past.

     

    © 2024 j.g. lewis

  • Only Wednesday

    Only Wednesday

    Wednesday sits naked                                                                                                                               and ordinary                                                                                                                                          waiting

    between the bookends of social Saturday and restive Sunday. The day is                                                                                                                little more

    than a cluster of hours or a stop on the                                                                                        treadmill. Indecisive and                                                                                                                       lonely

    nobody chooses a Wednesday. Nothing                                                                                       happens                                                                                                                                                           on a Wednesday

    and it’s the same each week.

    Sept 11/01, a Tuesday. London Subway bombings: July 7/05, a Tuesday, also July 21/05, and also a Tuesday. Assassinations: John Lennon on a Monday, Martin Luther King Jr. a Thursday, and John F. Kennedy a Friday. Kurt Cobain’s body was discovered on a Wednesday, but he chose his way out three days earlier. Nothing happens on a Wednesday.

    There are fewer concerts mid-week, and opening night is never a Wednesday. They never open the Olympics on a Wednesday. Nobody gets married on a Wednesday.

    Yet I will choose Wednesday, or I will start with a Wednesday. I’ll begin with a page, a place where I can plant my thoughts. I have many thoughts, each week, every day (even on Wednesday), but I will commit to posting something once a week. There are seven days to choose from, and I chose Wednesday.

    Now I may post something else on some other day, I’m like that (a true Gemini). If I am moved or if I have time, if the stars align or the moon gives me a nudge, or if something is really bothering me, I won’t wait for Wednesday. But I will post something each Wednesday.

    Something will happen each Wednesday, every week. Right here. If you want to see, or wish to be reminded, sign up. There will also be a daily breath (usually 140 characters or less) and it will not be limited to Wednesday, but will, or should, arrive every day.

    Until Wednesday . . .

    -j-