
Another one lost


Grain elevators naturally make me think of Grandpa Al since he spent his life working for the Wheat Pool. I miss him.
I found a site that has loads of elevator photos from around the province.




Europe is in a serious tizzy over France’s summary deportation of its Roma population. The Roma are traditionally nomadic people who have no “national” homeland to speak of. By “national” I mean a specific territory delineated by an invisible yet enforceable border and comprised of people who share a common language, value set, religion (in many cases), history etc. Anyway, France is getting rid of them (while also banning burkas, religious symbols of any kind in public schools, and soon any one that doesn’t eat cheese, smoke cigarettes, or wax nostalgic on all things France. Ok that last bit wasn’t serious.)
Before the tsk tsking starts on this side of the Atlantic, I would like to share that I once took a course from a brilliant Hungarian who made an excellent point of putting the entire class (of Canadians) in its place by likening European treatment of Roma to Canadian treatment of our First Nations. They are systemically marginalized (some would say demonized) and excluded by governments and populations alike, to the extent that they generally live in poverty-stricken communities with poor health, low education levels and a high crime rate. He was very careful to make this point before he began his lecture on the Roma, which I believe was a pre-emptive strike against any sense of superiority on our part. In this regard, I believe that Canada has absolutely nothing to offer Europe in the way of advice and no right to condemn Sarkozy’s actions. Not because Roma deportation is in any way acceptable, but simply because the kettle and pot are both brimming with ignorance.
The Guardian has an excellent article detailing the Roma plight, which you can read here.
On a side-note, I once made the mistake of mentioning to some of my peers in grad school (50% of whom hailed from Russia and the former soviet bloc) that my grandmother thought she has some Roma heritage. They called me a dirty gypsy (in jest, I suppose), for an entire term. I prefer to be known as a cheap Mennonite, for the record.