We went to Toronto's Union Station to book a train ticket from Montreal to Toronto with a 2-hour stopover in Brockville where we have planned to lunch with a friend from the UK who is only briefly in Canada during Eastertide. Stopovers cannot be purchased on line. Why this should be so is a mystery, given what unfolded.
The very pleasant agent insisted that stopovers were only allowed on full fare tickets. We told her that we knew that wasn't the case. She bent over her her computer, and summoned another agent to consult and help, and we went back and forth FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES - poor dear, so under-trained, and so confused, yet she was very "experienced" - she also said, incredibly, that we were the first stopover "I have EVER had in fifteen years..." She could not understand that the computer was putting out the second lowest fare $116 for the itinerary requested - "it can't be right; you should be paying $189."
Finally, with much laughter (fortunately, we were in no hurry and had kept teasing her as "Myrna the Via Rail revenue Maximizer" which further confused her - "what's a maximizer ?") she read from her screen a VIA policy statement to agents dating from sometime last year in which the Gods of VIA decreed that the revenue enhancement from breaking fares with stopovers rather than allowing through fares was so minimal, and the agent confusion and time-wasting from attempting to sort through the rules so widespread (QED), that henceforth most itineraries would be okayed for through fares, and so indicated on the agent's screen by an asterisk in column such-and-such.
"Oh, I WONDERED what that little star was doing there all the time," said our new BBBFF Mryna - "I guess they like you." And so, with 10 people in line behind me, the computer spat out my ticket. Smiles from Myrna. Smiles from the other agent who had ignored his window for 12 of the 15 minutes. Smiles from us. And so our lunch in Brockville can eventuate, all the sweeter knowing VIA has got "only" $116 from us rather than $189. Should pay for a pub lunch for two ?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Acts of Random Kindness: I
Beyond attendance at its Solemn Liturgies, we can think of no better way to keep Holy Week than to engage in acts of random kindness.
We are aware of - and have even benefited from - such acts of pure unselfishness; so we will from to time share examples of these on this Blog.
Example 1
Visiting a friend on a college campus one weekend, the visitor became aware of talk within the circle of buddies of how a particular friend had been undergoing certain hardships financially - overpending on beer and pizzas in the first semester, parents reluctant to give more and he to ask for any, a former girlfriend on whom he had lavished a few too many gifts and nights out - and emotionally - the break-up of aforesaid relationship, the realization of term papers due and overdue, worry of exams, of parent reaction to grades, of finding a summer job.
The visitor knew the subject of discussion but slightly, but had always had a very high opinion of him: he had been a leader at his prep school, and both bright and kind amidst the easy glory of those days. The visitor didn't see him in the course of the weekend, but thought of him and his several travails as he took the train home. When he got back he remembered how the smallest encouragement and sign of belief during his own life had meant an enormous amount to him, especially when it had come from a camp counsellor, or a "bigger boy" or the god of the football team.
So he sat down and wrote a long-hand letter to the freshman, saying in a frank but uncloying way that he was sorry to have missed seeing him; that he had heard a little of his situation; that he believed in him absolutely and had always admired his good qualities; and that he hoped the enclosed cheque would help him through the rest of the semester. The cheque was for a few hundred dollars, not so much as to cause embarrassment to the recipient, but enough for the visitor to feel the pinch of his gift.
Very soon after, the visitor received a phone call from the person in question - who told him that he would never realize how much the letter and gift had meant to him: yes, the money was useful as he was down to no cash at all and hadn't known how he might pay for the next two weeks' food; but more, the encouragement and faith shown via the letter had made the young fellow realize his potential, to shake himself out of his depression and to begin to change his slovenly attitudes to his responsibilities.
"How can I pay you back ?" he asked.
"Forget it," came the answer. "It was a gift. If you want to pay me back, work hard and be happy. And some day when you are successful, as you will be, do someone else a kindness."
That example stuck. Today the once-unhappy young man is a major international financial businessman, and his good works, in public benificence as in private kindness, are manifold. He never speaks of the latter; but the recipients of his instinctive kindness do so from time to time. Pay it Forward indeed !
We are aware of - and have even benefited from - such acts of pure unselfishness; so we will from to time share examples of these on this Blog.
Example 1
Visiting a friend on a college campus one weekend, the visitor became aware of talk within the circle of buddies of how a particular friend had been undergoing certain hardships financially - overpending on beer and pizzas in the first semester, parents reluctant to give more and he to ask for any, a former girlfriend on whom he had lavished a few too many gifts and nights out - and emotionally - the break-up of aforesaid relationship, the realization of term papers due and overdue, worry of exams, of parent reaction to grades, of finding a summer job.
The visitor knew the subject of discussion but slightly, but had always had a very high opinion of him: he had been a leader at his prep school, and both bright and kind amidst the easy glory of those days. The visitor didn't see him in the course of the weekend, but thought of him and his several travails as he took the train home. When he got back he remembered how the smallest encouragement and sign of belief during his own life had meant an enormous amount to him, especially when it had come from a camp counsellor, or a "bigger boy" or the god of the football team.
So he sat down and wrote a long-hand letter to the freshman, saying in a frank but uncloying way that he was sorry to have missed seeing him; that he had heard a little of his situation; that he believed in him absolutely and had always admired his good qualities; and that he hoped the enclosed cheque would help him through the rest of the semester. The cheque was for a few hundred dollars, not so much as to cause embarrassment to the recipient, but enough for the visitor to feel the pinch of his gift.
Very soon after, the visitor received a phone call from the person in question - who told him that he would never realize how much the letter and gift had meant to him: yes, the money was useful as he was down to no cash at all and hadn't known how he might pay for the next two weeks' food; but more, the encouragement and faith shown via the letter had made the young fellow realize his potential, to shake himself out of his depression and to begin to change his slovenly attitudes to his responsibilities.
"How can I pay you back ?" he asked.
"Forget it," came the answer. "It was a gift. If you want to pay me back, work hard and be happy. And some day when you are successful, as you will be, do someone else a kindness."
That example stuck. Today the once-unhappy young man is a major international financial businessman, and his good works, in public benificence as in private kindness, are manifold. He never speaks of the latter; but the recipients of his instinctive kindness do so from time to time. Pay it Forward indeed !
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
NOTRE DAME UNIVERSITY: THE OBAMA CONTROVERSY & HOW SOME STUDENTS ARE REACTING TO IT
Notre Dame University is one of the proudest of American institutions. Its identity as a centre of Catholic education may sometimes be overshadowed by its reputation as a football powerhouse, but no one should under-estimate how the former informs the latter. In recent years, both students and faculty have tried to encourage ND to re-discover not only its Catholic roots, but a loyalty to the teachings of the Magisterium as should be expected of a Catholic institution, but which, to many, had seemed lacking during the preceding decades.
We have deeply-engrained memories of our single visit there, happily one undertaken on a football weekend. One strain of all that is best and most admirable in the American ideal revealed itself in manifold ways as we took our seats in the hallowed stadium on a freezing cold November afternoon. The band, perhaps four-score strong, played the Fight Song; the crowds cheered; and the team took the field fresh from the special Mass it attends before every game. This was Fall in its American essence: clear, patriotic, determined under the bright blue sky of God's Providence. Warm-hearted is another adjective we could add - though we had bedecked ourselves in turtlenecks and tuques purchased at the University shop, our jeans and cotton shells were no match for the mid-West wind chasing around the stadium. A kindly couple turned around in their seats and, seeing our discomfiture, insisted we borrow one of their blankets - a spontaneous gesture of generosity we gratefully accepted !
But an even more unforgettable memory stems from our campus tour the day previous. The young sophomore taking seven or eight of us around a place obviously very special to him passed by its celebrated grotto without any comment beyond mentioning it is a replica of that at Lourdes, Our Lady's most venerated Shrine in the southwest of France. I mentioned to him that I was surprised to see so many students - easily 15 or 20 - kneeling and apparently praying at the low stone wall outlining this central focus of the campus. His natural and most artless response moved me to tears: "Oh, a lot of the guys like to stop and visit Our Lady - you'll always see plenty of students there - especially on football weekends !"
Which leads us to reflect on the current controversy about the University Administration's having invited President Obama to speak and accept an honorary degree at the Commencement ceremonies this Spring. South Bend's own Bishop will not attend, and has indicated, along with other prelates, a host of alumnae and students, his displeasure. It is true that ND has invited most US Presidents to speak - but the special nature of Commencement, the peculiar honour of an honorary degree and the definite pro-choice stance of the President make the choice particularly galling to many of the vast ND family, and especially to many Catholics who respect the Office of President deeply, who otherwise admire Mr Obama and who wish him nothing but success as he confronts the daunting challenges facing him at home and abroad.
We have give kudos to a group of students representing several different campus organizations which have now banded together to lead opposition to the Presidential invitation. One senses that an especial part of their motivation is to overcome the perception that the furor over the visit stems mainly from crusty alums and "extreme" Catholic right-wingers rather than from current students for whom the Commencement ceremonies are theoretically designed. They have mounted a vigorous campaign, and a web site at http://www.ndresponse.com/
Consider their cause, and keep them and the wonderful institution they love so dear in your prayers, that a dignified way out of this unhappy situation may be found which allows all parties to live together in charity, and which maintains Notre Dame's fidelity to Holy Church and its teachings.
The Golden West - a book recommendation
We love the American West, past and present: its wide-open spaces, courteous folk, deep patriotism and scenic splendour, together with the resonance of its frontier past, move us beyond words. Here, men and boys alike automatically and un-self-consciously take off their baseball caps as the Flag passes by. The names of the towns - Dodge, Laramie, Ten Sleep, Cody, Buffalo, Worland, Deadwood - echo the voice of the cowboy. The buffalo again roam in increasing numbers where their ancestors once thundered. And the waitress' "y'all have a good day" rings true rather than the automaton-customer service-"trained" response of her more entitled cousin on either coast. It is a state of mind and a boast of greatness as much as a geographic location. Its iconography remains deeply rooted in the freest, greatest nation of the world.
If you would know the West, capital "W", one of its greatest chroniclers is the now little-remembered A B Guthrie. His 1947 novel The Big Sky tells of the mountain men who opened so many of its passes ahead of the wagon trains, the miners and the whole panoply of more storied heroes.
Here follows one of our favorite passages from this work:
[1837: the West is closing in, and Summers prepares to return East after
a lifetime as a mountain man]
"Two horses and a few fixin's and a letter of credit for three hundred and forty-three dollars. That was all, unless you counted the way he had felt about living and the fun he had had while time ran along unnoticed. It had been rich doings, except that he wondered at the last, seeing everything behind him and nothing ahead. It was strange about time; it slipped under a man like quiet water, soft and unheeded, but taking a part of him with every drop - a little quickness of the muscles, a little sharpness of the eye, a little of his youngness, until by and by he found it had taken the best of him almost unbeknownst. He wanted to fight it then, to hold it back, to catch what had been borne away. It wasn't that he minded going under, it wasn't that he was afraid to die and rot and forget and be forgotten; it was that things were lost to him more and more - the happy feeling, the strong doing, the fresh taste for things like drink and women and danger, the friends he had fought and funned with, the notion that each new day would be better than the last, good as the last one was. A man's later life was all a long losing, of friends and fun and hope, until at last time took the mite that was left of him and so closed the score."
- A. B. Guthrie, Jr, The Big Sky (1947)
If you would know the West, capital "W", one of its greatest chroniclers is the now little-remembered A B Guthrie. His 1947 novel The Big Sky tells of the mountain men who opened so many of its passes ahead of the wagon trains, the miners and the whole panoply of more storied heroes.
Here follows one of our favorite passages from this work:
[1837: the West is closing in, and Summers prepares to return East after
a lifetime as a mountain man]
"Two horses and a few fixin's and a letter of credit for three hundred and forty-three dollars. That was all, unless you counted the way he had felt about living and the fun he had had while time ran along unnoticed. It had been rich doings, except that he wondered at the last, seeing everything behind him and nothing ahead. It was strange about time; it slipped under a man like quiet water, soft and unheeded, but taking a part of him with every drop - a little quickness of the muscles, a little sharpness of the eye, a little of his youngness, until by and by he found it had taken the best of him almost unbeknownst. He wanted to fight it then, to hold it back, to catch what had been borne away. It wasn't that he minded going under, it wasn't that he was afraid to die and rot and forget and be forgotten; it was that things were lost to him more and more - the happy feeling, the strong doing, the fresh taste for things like drink and women and danger, the friends he had fought and funned with, the notion that each new day would be better than the last, good as the last one was. A man's later life was all a long losing, of friends and fun and hope, until at last time took the mite that was left of him and so closed the score."
- A. B. Guthrie, Jr, The Big Sky (1947)
A 17th CENTURY CONTRARIAN: THREE CHEERS TO THE PAST
We read recently of the splendid example of Sir Robert Shirley, who amidst the depredations of the Puritans, built a magnificent Gothic chapel on the grounds of his ancestral home at Staunton Harold, Leicestershire. For this act of defiance he was persecuted, and ended his days in the Tower of London. BUT - history has the last word. Behold the mighty words of the memorial erected to him:
Sir Robert Shirley, Bt.
who died in the Tower of London, 1656
In the yeare 1653
When all things sacred were throughout the nation
Either demollisht or profaned
Sir Robert Shirley Barronet
Founded this Church
Whose singular praise it is
to have done the best thinges in the worst times
And
hoped them in the most calamitous
The righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance
"To have done the best thinges in the worst times" - is that not a glorious tribute to all contrarians who defy the passing currents and stand for what they believe no matter the cost. This made our day !
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