"Where Are You To" in St. John's?

Spring is teasing us a little today in St. John's.  The sun is trying to break through the clouds and peek above the fog.  The wind is taking a breather and the 9 degree temperature actually feels like.... 9 degrees.  That's a novelty in these parts because wind chill is a factor here even in July.  Well, at least in the west end of the capital city the weather is pretty nice.

I'm writing today's story while enjoying a paper cup of tea at my office, which just happens to be in the Starbucks outlet that is in the west end.  Starbucks has likely figured out that nicer weather equates to more customers, which equates to more profits.  They have three coffee shops in St. John's and neither of them is in the east end. There are rumours of a location being planned for the burgeoning east end power center in RDF county. (RDF is rain, drizzle, fog)  Wouldn't that make a fantastic name for some type of skinny, nonfat, decaf, vanilla latte with an espresso shot and made from soy milk?  One Venti sized RDF please and will you take my car as collateral for the down payment on that?  If you want cheap, go to Tim's.  Come to Starbucks for an experience, for inspiration, and free internet.

One of the Starbucks is downtown, but I question whether that area is even a part of the real St. John's.  Downtown can't make up its mind if it wants to be in the east end or the west end.  It tries to be a double agent by referring to its two major street as Water Street East or Water Street West and Duckworth Street East and Duckworth Street West.  The problem is further complicated by the fact that city hall sits right in the middle of downtown.  Politicians, being politicians, sit on the fence and won't dare declare downtown as being officially the west end or the east end of town.  It's a good thing that no one lives there.  Downtown is businesses, bars, bums, and taxi cabs.  That is where the city's nickname of 'Sin City" was derived and earned.  As an east ender, I'm more than happy to give downtown to the west end.

The west end seems to hog more than its fair share of the better weather too.  Some cities choose to divide themselves by way or north versus south, uptown versus downtown, and upper versus lower.  St. John's, in keeping with its disdain for compasses, mapmakers and GPS, uses the simplest description to describe "where you are at".  You are either in the west end or the east end. There is no where else.

I feel for visitors to our warm city (warm, as in welcoming, not as in almost hot).  Should they ever get lost and ask a local for directions to Starbucks, it is bound to sound something like this - "You knows where yer at now, right?  Ok....well, go back to where ya came from, when you comes to the light, stop if its red.  You'll see a red house on the left with a van in the driveway that's up on blocks.  That's Billy Mercer's old van that he used when he was taxiing.  Anyways, when you sees Billy's van, take the second left then the first right.  The road turns to the left but ya still ha to take the first right.  Sometimes people gets confused about dat.  Follow that road until you comes to Betty's Convenience store.  It'd be best to stop into Betty's to get them to tell you how to get to Kenmount Road from there.  If Betty's not around, her husband Kev is probably in the back stacking bottles or rearranging the salt meat buckets.  He's pretty good at giving directions too.  When your there, tell them that Ricky'll be over in a little while.  They'll know who you means.  Take care now, gotta run.  Have a great time on the Rock.  We loves helping you mainlanders out."

If you visitors think that you will outsmart a local by resorting to your cell phone to seek directions, then you may want to think again.  We have that one covered too.  The standard and ingrained reply from a townie to anyone seeking directions by phone is "Stay where you'r at, whilst I comes where you'r to."  The good news is that St. John's is not that big so you can pretty much tour the whole place in a day.  We also have no really dangerous places that you have to avoid for fear of your life.  The Brow, The Circle, The Blocks, The Pond, and The Square are merely urban areas of rugged beauty.  They are full of character and characters.  You'll find these communities in both the east end and the west end of the city.  Be sure to have your camera ready when you come to these wonderful neighbourhoods.  Just don't stop to ask for directions.

Don't Call Me a Doctor

I feel like having a cigarette!  I just arrived back home after two separate visits to a doctor this morning.  I first saw an E.N.T.  Those are the doctors of the ears, nose and throat.  If I had been the chief of medical acronyms, I would have pushed for throat, ears and nose so those doctors would be known as T.E.N.  Even nose, ears and throat would have been in the running, as N.E.T. is very catchy.  The title E.N.T. lacks any kind of flare.  It would be a step forward for the image of the medical profession if patients could say that they "have a TEN for a doctor".  A doctor who is a NET also summons up the positive image of protecting those under the (care of) NET and also of the NET being utilized to catch things (such as aliments and diseases).

The second doctor I visited was a dentist.  Sometimes it is easy to forget that dentists are doctors too.  The term "doctor" is used much too liberally in today's society.  Chiropractors are doctors!  Really?  Many of my university professors were Dr. This and Dr. That.  These people are academics, who have reached the summit of the educational Mount Everest.  They can go no higher in that field in terms of getting additional degrees.  This degree happens to be called a Doctorate, thus explaining why they choose to refer to themselves as "Dr.".  After all the years in school and the money spent, they deserve a special title.  I'm just not sure that "Dr." is the one they should be using.

In today's world, there are easier ways to get this handle.  Get a job at McDoanlds and you'll have an opportunity to go to Hamburger University.  You can bypass the bacholar and masters programs by going through the drive through.  Just place an order and in no time at all you'll be known as Dr. Burger MD (McDonalds Doctor).  Ninety billion satisfied customers can't all be wrong.

My standard for someone being able to call themselves "Dr." is whether or not they penetrate the human body.  I'd better clarify that somewhat or else a lot of people I know suddenly became a part of the medical profession.  The penetration has to be solely for medical reasons!

Over the years, I've had all types of probes stuck in just about every orifice of my body.  I've been cut open, had things removed, and been stitched back up.  The skill of these "real" doctors is surely something to behold.  They have to learn so much about human anatomy and also keep abreast of the advances in treatments and medications.  Doctors also have to use the latest technological aids to diagnose and treat patients.  Micro-cameras are now small enough to be put into our bodies.  I have benefited from just such technology.  While the doctors were exploring they were kind enough to allow me to watch the monitor and gaze at my insides.  The video of my vocal cords in action wasn't too bad.  The images of my bowels and getting to revisit with the previous evening's supper (hamburgers).......not so nice.  I hope that camera never got used on the next patient.

I wonder what goes through the minds of real doctors when they are doing the dirty part of their jobs?  I'm certain that they became doctors because of a genuine desire to help people.  That being said, they must also have the ability to separate the patient from the affliction.  How else would they be able to keep going to work each day knowing that they will see so many penises and buttocks?  Then again, their job sounds just like every other job, where dickheads and arseholes abound.  Every other job that is, with one exception - being the hamburger doctor at the local McDonalds.

I'd Rather Point My Finger Than My Gun

As I awoke yesterday in my sleepy suburb-like area on the outskirts of St. John’s, I happened to catch the local radio station’s broadcast of the Cole's Notes version of some scary happenings in a city on the mainland.  The previous night in that city, there were no less than four incidents involving shots being fired.  Thankfully, no one was killed, but some poor bullet ridden souls ended up in the hospital.  None of these shootings involved the police.  Considering that Canadian cops are pretty much the only ones allowed to carry handguns in public, then that makes these types of events even more disturbing.

American biker gangs like the Hells Angels, Jamaican Posse, Asian Organized Crime, Tamil Tigers, Native insurgents, home grown terrorists, and even Bob the plumber are all known to prey on our fellow citizens in just about every Canadian city.  We believe that our own city has been spared this plight, thus far.  At this point, you are likely assuming that the mainland city leading yesterday's news was Toronto, Vancouver, or Montreal.  You wouldn't be surprised either if it were Winnipeg, Regina, or the cold, steely city of Hamilton, as all of those far away places certainly have more than their fair share of bad guys.  If you were thinking any of those, then you would be wrong.  The maniacal and menacing mainland city is much closer to our shores than any of those.  In many ways, this city is our sister city or maybe our big brother.  The city, where Kevlar vests are this spring’s hot fashion item, is Halifax, Nova Scotia.

You should not be surprised.  Prosperity, population growth, and the ease of worldwide travel no longer permit any municipality to think and act as if it were the walled city of Troy.  Those willing to pillage and plunder will find there way in.  Halifax is a modern 21st century city.  So is our beloved St. John's, NL!  The handgun is the symbol of a city's graduation into the ranks of the modern world.  St. John's has already earned its degree.

Before retiring from the RCMP last year, I spent the previous six years working in the St. John's area, primarily as a drug investigator.  Prior to that, I worked in the Greater Toronto Area for fourteen years.  Again, much of that time was spent pursuing drug traffickers and importers.  In relative terms, I can attest that the illegal drug scene in St. John's is as pervasive and violent as it is in Toronto.  Surprisingly, I also encountered more handguns being wielded by the bad guys here in St. John's than I did in Toronto.  In Toronto, all drug traffickers were presumed armed and dangerous until the police knew otherwise.  We routinely utilized our "SWAT" teams to affect arrests and to break down doors to enter residences.  They have the expertise, so why put myself in the firing line unnecessarily?  Also, bad guys hardly ever try to resist when the police ninjas come calling.  That being said, bad guys don't fear the cops as much as they do other bad guys.  There is no honour among thieves of cocaine dealers, so they often arm themselves to fend off rivals who often try to steal their dope and dollars.  I strongly suspect that some, if not all, of the four Halifax shootings fall in that category.

Police officers in Newfoundland have seen the escalation of violent crimes and the proliferation of handguns being seized.  I think that the public and the courts are a little behind in their understanding of the reality of the situation.  A couple of years ago, while seeking a warrant to search a house where a large amount of marihuana was believed to be stashed, a Judge signed my warrant but suggested that we "go in easy".  By that I guess he meant to ring the doorbell and to wait patiently to be let in.  Or perhaps he was suggesting that I call ahead!  I was experienced enough to know that I would enter that residence in accordance with the law, but with everyone's safety as the first priority.  "Going in easy" was never in my play book.

There was another incident, involving a suspected gun carrying drug dealer, that lead to me being grilled on the stand in court.  We were acting on information that three people were driving from the mainland to St. John's with drugs in their vehicle.  It was also believed that one of the young guys had a handgun in his possession.  The car needed to be stopped before it got into St. John's, as following it to its final destination involved possibly losing it in traffic.  We considered using our "SWAT", but I believed there was a better way to stop the vehicle, seize the drugs, as well to ensure that the handgun would not be used on that day or ever again.

We had learned that the vehicle had experienced a flat on its journey and was now traveling with a dummy spare as one of its rear tires.  I dressed up in my police uniform and borrowed a real police car from one of the neighbouring detachments.  Just outside the city limits, I pulled the car over, ran up to the driver's window and excitedly told the occupants that their dummy tire was on fire and that they needed to exit the vehicle immediately.  No one likes the idea of becoming human charcoal, so they all quickly got out.  Getting them out with that ruse was the key to ensuring that no one would be shot.  The bad guy knew we were the police, he did not know that we suspected he had the drugs, and he was now out of the vehicle in plain view of my partner and me.  This allowed us to physically see what he had in his hands and what he was doing with those hands.  The hands are usually the delivery system of all things good and bad.  It worked out perfectly, Jake Doyle would have been proud of that one.

When we eventually had our day in court, the defence attorney and Judge questioned the grounds we had used to take action on that day and also questioned me on the tactic we employed to stop the vehicle.  As is typical, the procedures the police utilize are what is on trial and never the accused.  At the end of the day, it did finally work out in our favour and the bad guy went to jail.  I wonder what the reaction of the lawyers would have been if I had chosen to shoot out the tires of that vehicle?  It's too bad I retired, because maybe "down east" has a chance of becoming more like the "old west".

St. John's is not the city of my childhood.  It is inevitable that someday a local police officer will be harmed in the execution of his or her duties.  Those in uniform understand that risk.  They don't need to be second guessed at every turn in the name of political correctness.  It's time those in positions of trust and power recognized these facts.  I think that many politicians, Judges, and lawyers have there heads buried in the sand.  It’s almost as if they think they are living in St. John’s circa 1975.  In those days, the cops were kept busy chasing after the likes of Bart Connors and Johnny “Gluebag”.  Today’s criminal is more worldly and streetwise, with many derailed and misguided by the influence of drugs.  To many criminals, the handgun is a necessary tool of the trade.  We don’t need to arm them further by having leaders who believe bell bottoms and big hair are still in style.  It’s 2011 and there’s no turning back the clock.  We still live on an island, but the mainland is so much closer than it ever was.  Just ask anyone living in Halifax.

Mother’s Day Deserves a Parade

Mother’s Day came and went yesterday.  It’s an occasion that has given me some trouble in previous years.  There’s really no excuse, well no good one anyway.  I’ve always had a mother and I’m no spring chicken anymore.  I’ve seen forty something of these “Mother” of all days.  One would think that understanding the concept of showing your mother that you love her would be quite simple.  I’ll try to explain why it has taken me so long to get with the program.

As a younger and more self centered chap, it was easy to rationalize my lack of enthusiasm for Mother’s Day.  Really, if it was that important, then wouldn’t they have made it a holiday?  Isn’t that what really makes a day special?   Being set free from obligations of work automatically makes everyone sit up, take notice, and celebrate the holiday.  Getting an actual holiday is so spectacular that for a number of those days society has felt inclined to add a parade.  Christmas, Thanksgiving and St. Patrick’s Day are just such special days and all of these come with statutory holidays.  Until there is a Mother’s Day parade, then is that day really that important?

Mother’s Day is celebrated on Sunday, which in the Christian world is the day of rest.  I was raised by mom to be a good Catholic boy.  If I were to go the extra mile on Mother’s Day to celebrate, then wouldn’t I have been going against the teachings of the Church?  See mom, I really was listening to Father Walsh, even as I was trying to turn the Sunday bulletin into a paper airplane that would take flight and hit one of my brothers in the back of the head.  I dared not ever do that to my sister.  Margaret Ann, although deaf, perfected the piercing scream at a very young age.  That scream always brought the shame of blame, whether warranted or not, to me or my brothers.  Mother’s Day or not, at Sunday service or elsewhere, mom’s university ring on my noggin still hurt like heck.

Sunday is a strange choice for Mother’s Day anyway.  My mom is busy on Sunday mornings preparing the big scoff we have at lunch time.  Her afternoons are just as busy as she cleans up the mess, while being sure not to make too much noise as to disturb my brothers and me as we nap on her couches.  We wouldn’t dare deprive mom of such a wonderful family tradition, be it Mother’s Day or not.  I think she appreciates that.

My birthday falls in the second week of May.  Every few years, I have had to share “my day” with Mother’s Day.  Before I matured, I was resentful of that.  The overlap caused people to forget my birthday because they were so focused on pampering my mom or their own mothers.  Birthdays only come around once a year and there are a limited number of them in a person’s life.  What 44 year old man wouldn’t be upset by that?  As I said, that was the old me.  I’ve matured now.  I’ve developed a very thoughtful routine with my mom whenever our special days coincide.  On those Sundays, my wife Lynda relieves mom of her cleanup duty after the family feed.  It’s only fair to include Lynda, as she is a mother too.

On the topic of wives, there is an important lesson I must share with my fellow husbands.  When you have children, your partner is now a mother.  You must recognize that fact or you will surely feel the wrath of your women.  Any explanation you have for not picking up flowers, making supper, cleaning the house, or, at the very minimum, buying her a gift certificate for groceries, will never be good enough.  Do not make the situation even worse by citing what, on the surface, seems like a very legitimate reason – “But honey, you are not my mother.”  Take it from the voice of experience, it is not pretty!

I think the biggest reason for my new appreciation of Mother’s Day is that I am one too.  I am a stay at home dad these days, which has allowed me to be more motherly towards my two young children.  But that still doesn’t make me a mom.  I know I am truly a mother because Lynda and my mom tell me so.  It makes me puff up with pride when I hear them rant “Jim, you are one big mother!”