There’s an article on my CBC News App this morning about sports fans in Halifax feeling rotten and sad because the concession stand has stopped putting that warm, wet, orange “cheese food product” on nachos. “Chefs” for the food seller regularly review “the menu”, we are told, and decided to abandon goo altogether a few weeks ago, in favour of plain old salsa.
Now that the story has made the CBC New App, sports fans are likely to have all the melted orange gunk they can stand back on their nachos a.s.a.p. This is good. It’s a small thing, easily accomplished, and it’ll make people happy.
Heather Mallick, one of my very favourite columnists anywhere, has an Op-Ed piece in the Toronto Star today about the “migrant” “camp” that is being dismantled in the French city of Calais. Refugees. Semi-incarcerated by political circumstance in a kind of un-state. To be incarcerated. And transported. Somewhere.
There are all sorts of opinions about refugees and immigrants from various places and in various places, but I have had the privilege of teaching a number of them (for this writing: refugees in particular, of both sexes, from Muslim backgrounds in particular, and from all walks of life), and my high and optimistic outlook is coloured by the fact that all of us are in Canada.
Where the absence of orange nacho cheese at a sports venue in a relatively small but undoubtedly important and ridiculously beautiful province makes national news.
Give, is what I say.
Give a little.
Lean towards kindness. Europe, of all places, should be leaning away from camps.
How long do we repeat the monstrous and pretend we didn’t know?
Here in my new home, where I watch ships float by and find myself mesmerized by huge swaths of cloud-studded skies, I have taken up a daily, early walk with Espresso, down by the St. Clair river. Today a sliver of a crescent moon was barely visible through the clouds in the east, and I could not see Orion at all, in the south. Sirius, the Dog Star at Orion’s right heel (on the left from down here) was all I could make out, muted.
I am a city girl, and I know about six constellations. But I do know the moon and the arrangements of stars that humans configured into pictures have been up there, shining gloriously, forever. Islamic scholars studied many of them, grouped them, and named a lot of them, before Islam decided to vilify science, over 900 years ago. Much like groups of people eschew facts and free-thinking backed by empirical evidence today.
I like the ridiculous notion that Espresso and I mirror Sirius and Orion. Ridiculous amuses me.
Ridiculousness, unaccompanied by humour, unchaperoned by a knowledge of history, courts horror.
Time to donate the cost of a plate of nachos to refugee relief.