THREE POEMS FOR VALENTINES DAY

"You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning,
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams began."

Pablo Neruda "In My Sky at Twilight."

THESE POEMS ARE FOR YOU, MY LOVE...

APHRODITE’S ARROW
A quick-silver spark
like a diamond’s prism
strikes me.
Aphrodite’s silver arrow
turns this cafe bar
into the galaxy.
Reality escapes me.
Fleeting,
swift,
it hits its mark,
sets aflame
the dark night
of my heart.
Written one night in the Latin Quarter

CAPTIVE AUDIENCE
a poem for Anibal

I sat , a disciple at the feet of the Master
I listened to your stories
of shanty towns, poverty
President Allende dying in his bombed-out palace
Victor Jara, the musician/poet,
his hands crushed,
beaten to death in the Stadium
because he sang for the people.
I learned about social injustice
from you.
You taught me well.
Urged by your political passion
I joined marches,
raised my voice with the populace:
Peace, not War!
You captivated me,
I was your willing audience.
Your smile lit up my world
like a blaze of Chilean sun.
I absorbed every story you told.
Hundreds of Chileans died you said,
tortured, beaten,
some dropped from helicopters into the sea.
Thousands disappeared.
You were imprisoned,
Ran for your life across the mountains
into Argentina
disguised as a priest.
Over glasses of Chilean wine
red as blood
you told how you had to flee again,
this time on a plane bound for Canada.
I shared your anguish
though I could never truly experience your pain.
Exiled, torn from your roots
like a tree blown down in a fierce gale
this stormy life of yours
enveloped me,
I was swept into the vortex of your melancholy,
submerged under the waves of your nostalgia,
drowned in the sea of your despair.

Written one night in the Latin Quarter.

THE GARDEN

In the arbour

under a tangle of vines

the artist wields his brush.

Strokes the canvas lightly

spreading colours: pink and lavender and yellow.

Flower petals take shape.

A garden is revealed.

I remember the touch of your fingers on my arm,

soft as a brush stroke

awakening a garden in my heart.

Written August 2005 in Van Duesen Gardens.

Anibal died October 28, 2005

"We will be friends until the end of time," he said. Yes, we will, my friend, and when I hear the bolero play, I'll dance with you and remember...

"Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince,

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

William Shakespeare "Hamlet"

BE A RAT: GET RICH QUICK

THURSDAY, Feb 8
More on the Pig Farm trial.
The School Board has offered advice - a set of guidlines fo schools should "difficult conversations" arise regarding the Pickton trial. Apparantly the school board has received reports that there are concerns that the media coverage of the case may cause anxiety in children.

The key message is for parents and teachers to limit exposure for all ages of students. Media outlets have been sent letters by at least one school requesting the journalists act "responsibly and ethically" when reporting the trial.

So far, from what I've seen in papers and on radio/TV, the press is not going over-board in their coverage. In fact, on some stations now you don't really hear a thing about it and on both TV and in the papers there are warnings posted in case of graphic details. Frankly I can't see how any young students would bother reading the papers and if the parent's don't want them hearing the news there's an 'off' switch. I think it's good to 'protect' kids, but they are being exposed daily to all kinds of violence, not just what's in the news during this trial.
Even I don't watch TV that much because I get tired of all the shooting and violent scenes. And what is being shown at the movies these days is downright gross. But I guess because this is 'real life', I suppose some people think it's going to damage their kids to hear about it.

Meanwhile...
Be a rat and get rich.
A tip from a friend of Pickton started what has become the largest criminal investigation in Canadian history. A rookie constable had befriended an former employee of the farm in hopes of getting info on drug trade. Instead, the informant tipped off the cops about illegal firearms on the farm. However, when the police went to the farm armed with a search warrant, they found much more than they had expected. Besides finding a gym bag containing a respirator belonging to one of the missing women, in an attic or loft room on the farm, the police found a collection of sex toys, a loaded gun (with one spent bullet) with a dildo attached, that had the DNA of another missing woman as well as Pickton's, and a notebook belonging to another missing woman.

The gun search was called off and thus began the biggest investigation in Canadian crime history.

The informant was paid more than $1400 for his tips but also asked for money for a weekend vacation, rent, as well as $100,000 in reward money offered for clues into the missing women's case.

In more Canadian crime news...I read that Karla Homolka, famous for being part of another horrifying multiple murder case, who plea bargained and ratted on her partner in order to get a reduced sentence, is now living in Montreal and has just given birth to a baby. Considering she was a main player in the rape, torture and killings of 3 young girls including her own sister, it boggles the mind to imagine her as a mother. God bless the child!

FROM PIG FARMER TO FAME

This is the third week of the Pig Farm trial. For the last two days the court has watched and heard a video-taped conversation between the Pig Farmer and an undercover agent who had been planted in his cell under the pretext of being held for an attempted murder. Some of what transpired painted a rather pathetic picture of Pickton, when he discussed his life and childhood, but then it got more graphic and chilling implications were revealed. Tomorrow the undercover cop will be called to the stand to testify. But what the jury and court audience saw so far seemed pretty damning.


FEBRUARY 5
THIRD WEEK OF THE TRIAL
There was testimony from the undercover cop who shared a cell with the Pig Man when he first got arrested. Pig Man chatted, relaxed and seemed to like the idea of being 'famous'. He called himself a 'legend'. The UC said he was filthy, stinky and unshaven and talked a lot, reminiscing about life on the farm etc. He was quite astounded that they were laying 50 charges against him.
And he made jokes about it.
"You've heard of Port Coquitlam? Now they call it Pork Coquitlam. Heard of mad cow disease? Now we have pigs eating people."

FEBRUARY 6
"I'M A LEGEND!"
The last two days of evidence presented at the Pig Farmer's trial have been a video-taped conversation he had in the cell with an undercover cop posing as someone who was up on an attempted murder charge. Interesting the way the orchestrate those things. Mr. Pig Man appears filthy, unshaven and apparently stinky (he'd been picked up on the job) and chats with the UA as he relaxes on his bunk. Some of the conversation was about his life from childhood to present, how he's a hardworking pig farmer. "I've worked hard all my life," he says."An here I'm in jail for murder, murder one."

He seemed to like the idea of being 'famous'. Says people know him all the way to Hong Kong. He's as famous as Sadaam. He calls himself 'a legend'.

He told the UCA that back in '97 he got charged with attempted murder after a prostitute slashed him trying to steal his money. He says his testimony was true but hers wasn't so no charges ever went to court. "Now I got a murder charge," he says. "Two murder charges."
The UCA tells him he should have got a plane ticket and flown away. "I don't know what to do," says Pickton. He goes on to say his brother warned him he had to 'cover his own ass'.
"I'm stupid," he says. "I'm not up with the times."

Later, in another conversation with the UCA, he holds up his hand to indicate a 5 and 0. "50". He says he wanted to get to "The Big 50". And later says, "I was going to let it die down, then do another 25 to make it 75."
When the UCA suggested that the best way to get rid of a body is to dump it in the river, Pickton replied: “I did better than that. ..A rendering plant.”
He admitted to ‘getting sloppy’ though, and not cleaning up properly. He called himself “Mr Sloppy.”

WHAT'S NEW WITH THE PIG-TOWN TRIAL?

Somebody has apparently already made a movie about this case. "Killer Pickton" was recently viewed at the AFI Festival in Hollywood. How tasteless is that? The film will not be allowed to be shown here in Canada, for obvious reasons. Some people will go to any lengths to exploit and sensationalize before the trial had even begun!

Meanwhile, although the case has slipped to the back pages of the press these days and isn't even reported on TV, the rumours still abound. People are shocked by it all, but still you hear those persistant stories about the supposed snuff films being made out there. It's going to be interesting to see who is brought forward to testify. I have no doubts that the police have a lot of surprises up their sleeves. At this point, t hough, it will take a lot to really 'surprise' as it seems certain in everyone's mind that this is what was going on out there and the likely Willie is being made a scape goat by the others who were involved. It is very doubtful that this was the work of one evil man.

Apparently a week before Pickton was arrested and charged with two counts of first degree murder (Feb 2002) officers had already arrested two women in connection with the sex-trade workers disappearances and murders. A third person, male friend of Pickton, was arrested a year later during Pickton's preliminary hearings. The three were investigated but no charges laid. The two women were mentioned during the interrogation. The interrogator lied to Pickton and told him one of the women was trying to blackmail him. It will be interesting to see what happens. Will they be called in as material witnesses? Has there been some sort of plea bargaining? Were they let go for spilling the beans or what?
Most of the media circus has left town now and fewer people have been attending the trial. The focus is mainly on the court proceedings. Meanwhile, women from the Downtown East Side Women's Centre and the aboriginal community gather on the on square outside the court house to sing songs of remembrance and healing prayers.

FEBRUARY 3
The Pig Farmer seems to have been sent to the back pages these days. There has been little media hype or even news the last few days. Just the cross-examining of the interrogator. I think, too, that people had enough of the horror that was reported during that first week, so the media has toned things down for now. I have no doubt, though, that there will be more shocking revelations very soon.

DID PIG MAN REALLY TRY TO OUTSMART THE COPS?

OK, how intelligent do you have to be to understand that killing a bunch of women and hideously dismembering them and disposing of their bodies is not going to go undiscovered and might lead to life imprisonment or, in some places, the death penalty. From the first day, the judge addressed the jury and told them to be aware of Pickton's responses, body language and words. Yesterday his defence lawyer pointed out his 'intelligence'. The interrogators noted weird ways he had of speaking or perceiving things. Evidently the inheritance he got from his parent's was put in a trust fund to be supervised by his siblings. His brother, it is said, 'cared for him.' Another question: If that's the case, how come said brother failed to notice body parts in the farm freezer, strewn around the property and bone fragments mixed with all the top soil the two of them were selling? It's obvious we are not dealing with a rocket scientists here. But come on! Willie isn't exactly a drooling idiot. If he's guilty he knew exactly what he was doing. And if he isn't guilty he knows damn well who did it. For sure, he's been playing games with the cops.

WEDNESDAY, Jan 31
OK, it's pretty clear that Mr Pig Man isn't necessarily operating with all the lights on. But, it seems he tried to outsmart the interrogators and according to them, he did a pretty good job of it. Although his defence lawyer brought up the question of his intelligence, the cops say he has a 'phenomenal' memory and a selective memory as well. There was more talk about other people being involved. The name Hells Angels even came up, though they evidently couldn't make a real connection. And lots of questioning about the role his brother had, who lived on the same farm. Pickton claims his brother was trying to protect him. Doesn't that implicate the brother? The two brothers and a sister inherited the farm and according the paper, Pig Man is a millionaire. But is he really that smart that he can 'outsmart' the police?

MORE INTERROGATION

I wonder what it must be like to be one of the interrogators. And as one of them said "This isn't TV." It took years of investigations, leaving no stone unturned, and a great cost. This is probably going to be the most (to date) historically prominent murder trial in Canadian history. What a way to get noteriety!
SATURDAY, Jan 27
During the 11 hour interrogations, in spite of telling Pickton they had linked him "to tons" of the missing women as well as implicating DNA and other evidence, he keeps denying he is guilty, even denying he knew the two women whose DNA and blood was found in his mobile home, in his bed and some mixed with his own DNA.
"They're not going to find nothin' there," he insists.
The interrogator asks who he is prepared to take down with him, such as his brother.
"What's he got to do with it?" Pickton asks
"So long as you lie, he's attached to your lie," the interrogator says.
Later, when another interogator takes a gentler line of questioning, he says "I'm dead before I start. I should be on death row."
She tells him the most important thing was to give the missing women's families the closure they so desperately need. Pickton just snickers and says, "I'm dead."
In another part of the interrogation he is asked about Gary Ridgway, the so-called Green River Killer who targeted sex-trade workers.
"He may be the only person in North America who's killed more than you," the interrogator says (Ridgway killed about 42 women.)
Pickton laughs and shakes his head.
"Why are you laughing?" the interrogator asks. "Let me ask you a question. Do you know how many people you've killed?"
"I don't know," Pickton says
Pickton wasn't a drinker or drug taker so should remember exactly how many victims he had. "Was it a big deal to you? Or just like killing one of the pigs?"
"What do you want me to say?" Pickton asks.
Later..."There'll be other people coming down too," he says.
"Men or women?"
"A man...there'll be guns involved too,"Pickton says.
"You're having fun playing cat and mouse with me, Willie," says the interrogator.
In fact, in the interrogation on a number of occasions Pickton came close to admitting everything, including how 'sloppy' he'd been in not cleaning up and how he'd had one more planned but botched the chance.
***This interrogation took place before the body parts were found in the freezer.

THE HEART OF DARKNESS

"Often an entire city has suffered because of an evil man."
Hesiod 700 BC "Works and Days." 1, 265

Why am I reporting all this? Many people I've spoken to (men included) won't read the newspaper reports or listen to the gory details on the TV or radio news. I notice that this week things seem to be toned down somewhat, giving some respite from the initial onslaught of what had been revealed during the eleven hour interrogation last week. It won't end there though. And why I (who won't attend horror movies and is scared stiff even by Dracula and Frankenstien stories) continue to write about it is a puzzle. Well, it's mainly because of my interest in the judicial system (how can a defense lawyer defend a creature like this fairly?) and the workings of the dark hearts and minds of the person who would carry out such carnage on innocent people. What compels a person to behave in such an inhuman way? Or is it 'inhuman'? What about all the other mass killings that are going on in this world (the bombings, the slaughter of innocents in far away countries like Africa, Iraq, Afghanistan...all in the name of 'war' the thousands of innocent victims of juntas and military regimes ) Also, because it is a historic criminal case in Canada, the most extensive and costliest investigation ever carried out. And it all began because the police wouldn't pay attention to the pleas of families who were searching for missing women...not until sixty of them were gone off the face of the earth. So this case is memorable and from it perhaps some good will come and we will learn a tragic lesson.

THE 11 HOUR INTERROGATION: (more about the Pigtown trial. Jan 26/07)
There were a lot of details revealed today that were much too disturbing to report here. In the interrogation Pickton eventually came close to admitting his guilt. When asked how many women he had killed, he said "You're making me more of a mass killer than I am." When the interrogator told him that investigators has found a large amount of evidence, he said "I made my own grave now I'm gonna sleep in it."
"What about the families of the missing women?" the interrogator asked.
"That's not my problem," Pig Man replied. "Shit happens!"
The interrogator did bring up the possibility that others were involved, Pig Man's brother, a woman friend and the Hells Angels. This fits the rumours that have been going around since the beginning. It's going to be very interesting to see if anyone else is going to be incriminated.
I have to ask, "How do people like that sleep at night?"

Tonight on the TV news they did a sketch of one of the youngest victims, Andrea J. a pretty blonde woman who was only 26. Her doctors said how she was on the road to kicking her drug habit. They described her as 'child-like and hopeful.' They were certain she was going to make it and get off the street. Then she disappeared. Her remains were found on Pig Man's farm.

“YOU’RE A BIG MEDIA CELEBRITY!” Friday, Jan 26
Besides the more than 300 media people who are covering the Pig Farmer's trial, an on-line news service www.Orato.com has hired two former sex-trade workers to write their own impressions and to tell their own stories. These are women who worked the same streets downtown as the victims. So far the media has shown restraint in dealing with the grieving families and have written and broadcast respectful insights into the livesof the missing women. As you get to know more about them, hear their stories and the memoires of their families, it has put a real and tragic face on the victims.

As details of the trial come out, sex-trade workers are turning to each other for support and a drop-in centre downtown is offering them counselling and emotional support.

WHO IS THIS PIG MAN?
They say he sits slouced on a chair, displaying few emotions, yawning, sighing and looking at the floor when not egnaged. Family members of the women say they feel sick to their stomachs to hear him speak and watch hm in the courtroom. He has maintained his innocence in spite of damning statements made to the interrogator's, other statements made by a couple of his friends, and the girsly evidence they've found on his farm.

Teams of forensic specialists, anthropologists, entomologists and blood-splatter experts and the best police in the province have worked on the case for the last five years. When Piggy was told this he didn't seem impressed.
At one point in the interview he blubbers and cries and says "I'm sorry ...if I can take my life for any one of thes people..." Yet he steadfastly maintains his innocence even when shown the photos of his blood-splattered hom and gory stains on his bed.
"I'm tellin' you the honest truth," he says. "I don't know nothin' about this." He is incredulous when told he's in the papers, a media celebrity.
"You're a big media celebrity ...like Osama bin Laden! Everybody knows who you are," the interrogator tells him.
"Shit!" says the Pig Man.

"He harms himself who does harm to another, and the evil plan is most harmful to the planner."
Hesiod l 265

"I'M A BAD DUDE!"

"I'm a bad dude" is an understatement. This case truly is "the heart of darkness". These women, helpless, lost, drug addicted and desperate were lured to the pig farm and slaughtered.
We have to remember them. We see them every day walking the streets of the downtown east side. How did they get there? Where did they come from? Who are they? I know of people who knew them. I know of girls who might have become his victims. Being a woman, though more fortunate than they were, I know how vulnerable they were.

Two young women who I've known since birth, could have easily ended up on Piggy's farm. Both were seduced into drugs when still in their young teens and before they knew it were lost in that deadly maze of addiction. It was a long, desperate struggle, heartbreaking and sometimes hopeless, but their families would not give up hope. Finally, with help of support groups like Narcotics Anonymous and rehab, one of them has been 'clean' now for six years. The other, weaned off the methadone program, is with a partner and just had a baby. It can be done, but it's along, hard struggle. And the problem is, there aren't enough detox centres or rehab shelters for these women. There isn't even enough safe affordable housing for them to help them get off the street. So a man comes along (often a 'john') offers them drugs, money, who knows what else? And off they go with him...never to be seen alive again.
Remember these women. They might have been your sisters, mothers, daughters, friends...

More about Pigtown Jan 25/07
In court today, more of the video interrogation. Pickton said: "I should be on death row. I'm finished, finished. I'm dead."
More of the interviews with the pig farmer with the police interrogator. And it included a cryptic quote from a friend of his who said Pickton had told him
"A good way to kill prostitutes is with windshield wiper fluid."
The missing women, 26 of whom he is accused of killing, left collectively 100 children behind as well as grieving families and friends. Marnie Frey was murdered on her birthday. Serena A. was also killed around her birthday.
One of the girls was very young, very hopeful...None of them deserved to die this way.
If there's one thing that has been brought forward in the public eye it is the problems in the Downtown East Side. And yet nothing much is being done to improve the situation there, providing housing, safety on the streets, detox centres. The street women of the DTES are discriminated against. This is why 60 of them went missing before anything was done to find them. By then, for most, it was too late.
As one said tonight on the TV news:
"We all live, breath and want like everyone else." To me, that was the most poignant and powerful statement.

WHAT WENT ON AT PIGGY'S PALACE?

The gruesome details of what went on at the pig farm are starting to be revealed but what else when on there? What exactly was happening at the Piggy's Palace where these pig farmers entertained women and bikers and who-knows-who else? I doubt it was just a friendly neighbourhood get-together with roast pig and kegs of beer. At this point we can only speculate from the disturbing evidence that has been unearthed on the farm. Imaginations run rampant. Rumours sprout like poison mushrooms in manure. It's all beyond comprehension.
But now the trial has begun and the truth will be revealed, no matter how nasty it is.

MONDAY, Jan 22/07
THE TRIAL BEGINS
The trial of the infamous pig farmer starts today after a five year wait. He's on trial now for murder in the deaths of six of the 60 woman who have gone missing from this area since the late '70's. In addition to these six charges, there are another 20 which will be tried separately. He's been in prison the last five years while the pig farm which he operated along with his brother was scoured, literally no stone left unturned, for evidence. The 30 acre or so farmland was completely dug up and investigated by archaeologists specializing in bone fragments. Hundreds of DNA samples were collected. So far only the 26 have been identified. It may come out in the trial that there are many others.

Piggy and his brother ran a party house at the time called Piggy's Palace. It was frequented by bikers (Hells Angels etc)He frequented the downtown east side trolling for street women who were invited to the farm. At the time the case first broke (after years of the police ignoring how many women were going missing) the first thing they checked were the chippers. Get the drift? Remember the movie "Fargo"? Next were the rumours that they had been filming snuff films there. So you can imagine how horrendous the evidence is going to be. Counsellors have been set up in the courthouse to deal with the aftermath of the gruesome evidence that is going to be presented.

Meanwhile the city has been flooded by media from all around the world as this is going to be the most sensational trial in Canada's history. You can find daily updates and details on
www.cbc.ca
or at www.vancouversun.com

Counsellors have also been provided in the downtown area frequented by sex trade workers who might be approached by the media.
These women were mostly addicts and left behind families and children who grieve for them. Unfortunately, some of the family members have been subpoenaed to appear as witnesses and this has created a huge problem for those who have waited all this time for closure because they won't be allowed to attend the court sessions.
Hundreds of people have showed up outside the courtroom waiting to get in, swarming the grieving family members.

At one time I wanted to be a crime reporter, and when I worked for the Van. Sun after high school, one of the women reporters wanted to train me for her desk job. But the city editor wouldn't hear of an 18 year old preacher's daughter working on the crime reports. Instead I ended up being a news librarian in charge of the crime files. I guess that's why I'm always fascinated (though horrified) by these kinds of stories.

Some facts: They built a special courtroom for this trial. The public gallery is separated from the rest of the room by a bullet-proof glass. Pickton sits behind it. Yesterday there were a number of people (especially family members) who left the gallery when the gruesome evidence was given. They've been interviewing them about their thoughts/reactions, and also showing video clips of the various women who were victims. A couple of them left behind beautiful young daughters who have been raised by their grandmas. It's very sad to hear the families and friends talk about them. They were unfortunate women who fell into the sex trade because of drugs. This monster lured them to his farm with promises of a party and good times. He was taped by an undercover person in his cell, bragging about it, how he intended to make it a round 50 but messed up, so only managed to kill 49. There are so far 26 actualy charges, there were other remains found on the farm that matched the dna of a skull found elsewhere, so I think that charge was stayed. The evidence so far has been pretty graphic: severed heads, and body parts found in a freezer; bone fragments discovered at the farm as well as two other locations, on property owned by the pig farmer and his brother. One of the women's body parts were found in the pig sty. It is generally believed that he killed them, butchered them, and put them through the chipper, then ploughed the remains into the earth. The whole 30-odd acres of the farm have been searched, by police, forensic scientists, and archaeologists expert in identifying bones. It has been a five year investigation and the trial is expected to take at least a year.

WHO IS THIS GUY? AND WHO ARE THE WOMEN?

Looking back in my earliest diary, from 1947, when I was barely a teen ager, I had this fascination with crime involving murder cases. I recall when we first moved to the Coast when I was twelve, I was horrified to read about hangings that took place in a prison not far away. I made notation in my diary about a certain case where two young men had been hung for killing a policeman. "I feel very sad," I wrote. I remember the pall that used to fall over the city whenever an execution was to take place. Now we don't have capital punishment, and I don't agree with it because who knows how many innocent people were punished before we had DNA testing? But there are certain individuals that the tax-payers are paying to support who I wonder about...such as the notorious Clifford Olson who killed children and sits in prison mocking his victim's families. Why did he deserve to live?

WHO IS THIS GUY? Robert "Willie" Pickton (57)
He calls himself "The Pig Man". He bragged about how one day he killed 35 pigs and how good he was at the job.
He is now accused of killing 26 women who's remains have been found on his pig farm.

SOME BACKGROUND ABOUT THE CASE
By the Fall of 2001 there were 45 women officially listed as missing from the Downtown East Side of Vancouver. The investigation was hampered by police infighting, inexperience, under-resourcing and mistakes. By Feb. 2002, after a lot of public pressure and a shake-up in the police dept. the police raided the farm and laid the first of 26 charges.
Now, five years later and an extensive investigation that has/will cost millions, the day of reckoning has come. This crime trial has made news all over the world and 350 representatives of the world's press have descended on the city. Some of the details are so gruesome both TV and newspapers are posting warnings before revealing them so viewers/readers have a choice of watching/reading. Some of the media's websites are posting stories about how to deal with the disturbing elements of the story.
Due to the huge anticipated volume of people interested in attending the trial, the courthouse will have an overflow room. No bags or electronic devices are allowed in either courtroom (except for media who are allowed to record the testimonies). Everyone entering will pass through a metal detector and through two security screenings.
The second day of the trial (and today) the jury saw a videotape of Pickton being interrogated by police. He, of course, claims no knowledge of even knowing the missing women, in spite of evidence found right in the trailer where he lived!

WHO ARE THE FIRST SIX OF THE WOMEN HE IS CHARGED WITH MURDERING?
Sereena Abotsway (30)
Mona Wilson (26)
Andrea Joesbury (23)
Brenda Wolfe (30)
Marnie Frey (30?)
Georgina Papin.(37)

Each of them left behind caring families and friends. Why did they deserve to die?
As one of the grieving fathers said: "These are our sisters, our daughters, our mothers, all human beings -- all great people"
Note: There had been 60 women listed as missing, but several eventually surfaced. Pickton will be tried on the remaining 20 charges after the first trial is over which is expected to take up to a year.

THE TRIAL BEGINS

After five years of intensive investigation, the trial of the pig farmer has begun. The press has issued plenty of warnings about the content of the news and put up banners (on TV and in the newspapers) alerting people of the disturbing contents. A lot of people I've spoken to don't want to hear it. But in a way I think it's important to know the truth. More important, we must not forget the victims or their families. Counsellors have been provided at the court for the familes and viewers and in the downtown area for the sex-trade workers who will definitely be affected. Already there has been evidence described that is so horrifying I won't repeat it here. What interests me is the judicial system and how this is going to affect the jurors and families, because the reckon this trial is going to last a whole year! (And this is only the first six of 26 charges!)
MONDAY, Jan 22/07
THE PIG FARMER’S TRIAL BEGINS
The trial of the infamous pig farmer starts today after a five year wait. He's on trial now for murder in the deaths of six of the 60 woman who have gone missing from this area since the late '70's. In addition to these six charges, there are another 20 which will be tried separately. He's been in prison the last five years while the pig farm which he operated along with his brother was scoured, literally no stone left unturned, for evidence. The 30 acre or so farmland was completely dug up and investigated by archaeologists specializing in bone fragments. Hundreds of DNA samples were collected. So far only the 26 have been identified. It may come out in the trial that there are many others.

Piggy and his brother ran a party house at the time called Piggy's Palace. It was frequented by bikers (Hells Angels etc)He frequented the downtown east side trolling for street women who were invited to the farm. At the time the case first broke (after years of the police ignoring how many women were going missing) the first thing they checked were the chippers. Get the drift? Remember the movie "Fargo"? Next were the rumours that they had been filming snuff films there. So you can imagine how horrendous the evidence is going to be. Counsellors have been set up in the courthouse to deal with the aftermath of the gruesome evidence that is going to be presented.

Meanwhile the city has been flooded by media from all around the world as this is going to be the most sensational trial in Canada's history. You can find daily updates and details on
www.cbc.ca or at www.vancouversun.com
Counsellors have also been provided in the downtown area frequented by sex trade workers who might be approached by the media.
These women were mostly addicts and left behind families and children who grieve for them. Unfortunately, some of the family members have been subpoenaed to appear as witnesses and this has created a huge problem for those who have waited all this time for closure because they won't be allowed to attend the court sessions.

On the news just now, hundreds of people outside the courtroom waiting to get in and swarming the family members.
At one time I wanted to be a crime reporter, and when I worked for the Van. Sun after high school, one of the women reporters wanted to train me for her desk job. But the city editor wouldn't hear of an 18 year old preacher's daughter working on the crime reports. Instead I ended up being a news librarian in charge of the crime files. I guess that's why I'm always fascinated (though horrified) by these kinds of stories.

MONDAY, Jan 22
10.30 pm
Well they said it would be shocking and it was. And this was just the preliminary hearing of a trial that is expected to take up to a year. There is major TV coverage which includes interviews with the victim's families (two left behind beautiful young daughters). Quite a crowd showed up for the first day.
What was revealed was pretty gruesome: severed heads and body parts found in a freezer; bone fragments and pieces of limbs found in the field; personal belongings of the victims. And yet the guy of course pleads 'not guilty'.
It's almost surreal. like watching parts of a CSI segment or something. But it's real. And it happened right here near our beautiful city.

WHAT HAPPENED AT THE PIG FARM?

Back in 2000 an alarming number of women were going missing from the Downtown East Side of my city. Nothing much was being done to locate them in spite of requests by anxious relatives and friends. By 2001 there were a total of 60 women on the list. All of them were sex-trade workers with addiction problems. All of them had left behind families, children and friends who worried over their fate. It wasn't until 2002 that an investigation began at a pig farm on the outskirts of town where two brothers were known to have a place called "Piggy Palace" where they often entertained the likes of Hells Angels and other folk, including a lot of women who came from the Downtown area. Finally, armed with a search warrent, and looking for fire arms, the police descended on the farm. Much to their horror, they found more than firearms. They found the remains of a number of women. And so the five year long investigation began.

When I first began working in a newspaper editorial office after highschool, I wanted to be a crime reporter and investigative journalist. Instead I ended up in the news library in charge of the crime and bio files. Now I'm a travel journalist and historical fiction writer, but my interest in the judicial system and the criminal mind still draws me to cases like this, gruesome as they are, so horrifying you can't imagine how a human being could behave in such a dispicable way.

I started making notes about this case on my other on-line journal back in 2002 and decided to post them here along with updates as the trial has now began for the man who calls hims "The Pig Man", Robert "Willie" Pickton. He is charged with 26 counts of murder, six of which are being tried now and the rest later.

FRIDAY MIDNIGHT, Oct 4/02
It seems the brothers who owned the Pig Farm have been selling topsoil.
Of course the farm is now under a massive investigation, every inch of soil there being inspected for possible bone fragments of the missing women.
Now it is reported that soil from this very killing fields has been sold around the Lower Mainland to unsuspecting people for use in landscaping.
Tonight on the news it was reported that the police are concentrating an investigation at a local Indian Reserve where apparantly a load of this soil had been delivered. How ironic that a large number of the missing women happened to be aboriginal women.
The Chief of that particular reserve now has to make a decision to have the areas dug up and searched by one of the investigative teams. This, of course, may be a long procedure and will involve having a large area of ground being dug up. Quite a dilemma.
But how creepy it is, to know that the soil in your gardens or lawns that you bought from said Pig Farm may contain the remains of missing women. And as the Chief said, they owe it to the families who are still waiting to hear if the remains of their loved ones are recovered so they can get some closure.
This is shaping up to be one of the most hideous murder cases in Canadian history. What next? everyone is asking.
And now Mr. Piggy's lawyer is threatening to quit because he says they need a team of at least six lawyer to deal with the case. Piggy claims to be broke. And they want the government to chip in for the legal costs. What next is right!
More as the case unfolds. Incredible, isn't it?

THURSDAY, March 11/04
After seeing "Monster" last night, I'm still thinking about it. An excellent movie. Intense and compelling and such a story! The script was excellent, not overly graphic, but showing how this abused woman became such a 'monster' so you could have some compassion for her and for a couple of her hapless victims.
Meanwhile more horrifying events are unfolding right here in my city in relation to the infamous "Pig Farm" and disappearance of over 60 Downtown East Side street women. There have been over 15 charges laid so far in the case. The culprit is the Pig Farmer, a sleezy red-haired creep named "Willie".
For anyone not up on this story, which is likely the worst case of serial
killing in Canadian history: They've been investigating over a year now with a team of archaeologists sifting through soils from the farm. It became clear early on (from the first week or two) that there was a sinister, evil thing happening out there when the police started checking the equipment such as the meat grinder and chipper, then investigating meat-packing plants where he might have sold his pork.
So now it is headlines that they are warning anyone who got meat off this farm for the last couple of years (it wasn't commercially sold, but given to friends, associates etc) that the meat might be contaminated by human flesh. Meaning?..you guessed it...how he disposed of the bodies. This is possible one of the grossest cases ever to surface in some time. And there will undoubted be more to come as the rumours are rampant about
'snuff killings' and implications that biker gangs were often 'entertained' on his property.
The investigation has brought a lot more focus on the precarious life of hookers. In another recent case some supposedly 'ordinary' Joe with a wife and kid got arrested for a long series of serious assaults on street workers and in the investigation they found videos of him involved in sexual activity with young girls in Asian countries. And this guy was supposed to be an accredited member of one of those international aid programs who help needy kids in foreign countries.
As in the case of some of Aileen's
victims in "Monster" you cannot feel sympathy for some of the men she attacked as she had been horribly abused since her childhood. Such a tragic story with tragic consequences. Just like the hideous events at the Pig Farm.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY!

Baby Alexandrea on her first birthday.

JANUARY 4, 2007

Today is my beautiful daughter's birthday. I wish she was here so I could give her a big hug. But wherever she is, I hope she celebrates and has a great day.



Here's a photo of her at her very first birthday. She loved it when we sang "Happy Birthday" to her. After that every time I went to the piano she would say "Hap Bungdee". At first we didn't know what she meant, til it dawned on me, she wanted me to play and sing "Happy Birthday!"

So, Hap Bungdee, Baby. Enjoy your day and I wish you happiness and good health for the coming new year. You are my treasure. I love you! MOM

ENDING THE YEAR 2006

Baby Alex, New Year's Eve '64

SATURDAY, Dec 30/06

Here it is, almost New Years Eve, the end of another year. For me, it was a year of adventure and travel which have provided me with many wonderful memories. I'm still relishing the memories of Chile, spending time with Cecilia and Mommy in Santiago, wishing I was still there or at least had stayed a longer time. Yesterday I got the slides and they nearly all turned out, so reviewing them took me back there, walking the Barrios with Patrick, visiting the Poet's houses, riding through the Andes by bus. I can hardly wait now to get the print photos!



This week I started writing again, finishing up more work on "Shadow of the Lion", which is my #1 priority for the New Year. I got so far behind in my writing schedule what with moving, house guests and travel, so now I must get caught up. And oh! the need for exercise and diet!

So, aside from the usual 'resolutions', these are simpley MUST DO's. It's all a matter of health and well-being.



My last two days of 2006 will be spend relaxing and hopefully visiting with friends (will the girls really come to collect those Christmas gifts their mother sent from Chile?). The New Years Eve gala at the Cottage (where Steve's band is playing) has narrowed down to maybe just Cher and myself, unless the Havana Buddy recovers from his toothache. Other friends from the States can't come now as Cor. is sick. But Cher and I are bound to have fun anyway!



So, spending the day in reflection and nostalgia, and looking ahead to 2007 -- more travel? (Yes, Venice and Greece in May); lots of writing? (Yes, I must finish the novel!) and all the other good things that come with having a lot of wonderful friends and a loving family.



HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

CHRISTMAS SURPRISES!

SATURDAY, DEC. 23/06

Yesterday I had the best Christmas 'gift' of all: a surprise visit from my daughter and grandson. We hadn't expected to see either of them as whenever Mike flies up from California to visit his mom, he goes straight to the Interior. But his flight had been cancelled so he had to come in via Vancouver and my daughter drove down to meet him. So we all had an impromptu lunch together at my son's apartment. And though the visit was short, it was certainly sweet and meant a lot to all of us to be together for a rare family reunion.

My grandson Mike is 21 now, and a fine young man with aspirations to study abroad and a taste for travel adventures like his "Nanny". I hope he follows his dreams to see the world.

And to help convince him that studying in Australia would be a fine idea, I gave him a very nice book about Australia for a Christmas gift. I hope he enjoys it.

Here's a picture of Mike the first Christmas I got to meet him when I flew home from Greece when he was not quite 10 months old. He's a tall handsome young man now, as tall as my son.

But it's still so nice to hear him call me "Nanny"!

IT'S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas around my place. I've finished the decorating and wrapped the gifts which are all on the window seat under the little gold tree. My place looks very festive. I even decorated the plants with lights and baubles.

This is a photo of my and my little sister Jeannie, taken in Lloydminster Sask. when I was about five years old. I like the snow. We always had so much fun as children playing in it. When we lived in Saskachewan there was lots of snow every winter. I learned to skate when I was five and once I slipped on an ice patch and broke my elbow. We used to make snow forts and snowmen.

Where I live now is mostly rain, although while I was away in Chile they had a huge snowfall here. It caused a lot of havoc for pedestrians and cars and the weight of the snowfall caused trees to break which made quite a mess out of people's houses and cars. The snow was gone by the time I got home, but it would be rather nice to have a little for Christmas. However, the weatherman is forcasting mostly strong winds and more rain. I'm dreaming of a White Christmas.....

THE PEREGRINATIO (PILGRIMAGE)

I am told that the Latin word for a journey is "peregrinatio" (pilgrimage) and yes, this trip I'm about to embark in is very much a 'pilgrimage'. A sentimental journey, for sure. First, it's a trip to the beloved homelands of two of my dearest friends: Anibal's Chile and Roberto's Argentina. Secondly, it's a pilgrimage to the homes of the Poet, Pablo Neruda, whose writing I so admire (thanks to Anibal who introduced me to Neruda ) Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971. He died in Santiago Chile twelve days after the murder of President Salvador Allende, 1973.

I learned all about Chile, in particular those difficult times of the junta when Anibal was forced to flee. I also learned about Argentina from my soul-brother Roberto, who was also forced to flee his homeland during the junta there in 1978.

And so now, in their memory, I journey south to the land of the towering Andes. What a thrill and more so, what a privilege. How fortunate I am, that through my friendship with Anibal I also became a friend of his daughters (who live here) and his wife who I will visit in Chile.

I expect there will be a number of emotional moments during this journey. I have bought a little white candle embedded with tiny shells to light for him. I hope that Cecilia will take me to all the places he told me about, show me Anibal's Santiago, where he always longed to be.

I won't have time to get to Buenos Aires on this trip, but we plan to cross the border to Mendoza at the foothills of the Andes, in Argentina's wine country. And because Roberto was such a lover of fine wine, I will certainly be tipping a glass or two or three in his memory.

"Farewell, but you will be
with me, you will go within
a drop of blood circulating in my veins
or outside, a kiss that burns my face
or a belt of fire at my waist.
My sweet, accept
the great love that came out of my life
and that in you found no territory
like the explorer lost
in the isles of bread and honey.
I found you after
the storm, the rain washed the air
and in the water
your sweet feet gleamed like fishes."

from "LETTER ON THE ROAD" by Pablo Neruda

SCATTERED PETALS

"After loving you so much,
can I forget you for eternity,
and have no other choice?"
Robert Traill Spence Lowell 1917-1977 (Obit 1973)

Remembering Anibal...

This week, one year ago, was his final struggle and each day I am remembering the details of that difficult time. While I wrote the blog on Nostalgia, he was very much on my mind, and that bolero tune we sometimes danced to kept going around in my head. Then while I was writing my travel blog about Chile the other day, something else happened that made me know his spirit is very close by...

On my dresser below the window I have a miniature ceramic bench that Cecilia, his wife, gave me which he kept in his bedroom. Beside it is his picture and the poem he wrote while he was in the hospital "I am not going to die..." Next to that is a slender glass vase containing a dried red rose he gave me one night at the Latin Quarter.

As I was sitting at the computer reading through my Chile blog ("A Sentimental Journey") the other day, suddenly there was a whooshing sound. A breeze had blown up through the slightly opened window above and two of the petals from the dried rose blew down and settled on the ceramic bench. In that instant I knew it was a 'message' of sorts from him.

Perhaps it was imagination, just the wind through the window ... Still, I could feel his presence, as if he was trying to speak to me.

This will be a week of deep nostalgia, remembering...I can still envision those scenes in his bedroom...so tragic...etched forever in my memory.

I'll phone the girls this week. I know they'll be thinking of their Dad. Iva says he often visits her too. I'll tell her about the scattered petals. She'll understand.

THE NIGHT VISITORS

WEDNESDAY, Oct 18/06

Last night, just as I was ready to sleep, two night visitors came. I had come home from my class and relaxed awhile watching the news and funny John Stewart's Daily Show, treated myself to a couple of cups of hot chocolate laced with some brandy. In this relaxed state of mind I went to bed, tired from my busy day and evening of instructing a novel writing class.

Just as I dozed off (I don't think I was really asleep, but on the brink), something - was it a presence? - startled me and I opened my eyes. I clearly saw two women standing by my bed. It scared me for a minute and I cried out, then blinked my eyes a few times but of course the vision disappeared. I couldn't get back to sleep. I felt scared at first, then settled a little when I thought of who those two women might be. I'd been thinking a lot about my Mom lately, and also on the weekend my friend Paula and I had been talking about her Mom who was one of my best friends who passed away several years ago. I wondered, seriously, if the two women who had visited me in the night might have been them. I know I'd been thinking how my Mom would have loved this apartment and been so pleased to see me living here. Mom and Doreen were friends too, so perhaps they came together, their spirits, to check in on me. I'd like to think so. And after I had that thought firmly in my head I was able to sleep again, in fact I slept soundly enough that I didn't wake up til late this morning!

When I was a teenager I had a similar experience one night, except the night visitors were two men: One was thin and tall, wearing an overcoat and fedora hat, the other smaller and Chinese. The stood by my bed and just smiled at me. I was scared stiff and never forgot the incident. A number of years later, when I was living with some other people in a house after I'd split with my husband, a girl came to stay with us who later became one of my best friends, Susan. One night we were talking about strange dreams and other psychic phenomena and she related a story of her night visitors. It was almost exactly the same two men who had appeared at my bedside. Who where they? Guardian angels? We've often discussed this and wondered. It was so real it seemed for sure they were there, those night spirits. But why had they come?

This weekend when my friend Cor was visiting with her little doggie Napoleon, the dog kept frisking about yapping at something unseen. She teased that there was a ghost around in the apartment and that her dog could sense it. I wonder...At first we considered it may have been the spirit of the deceased man who used to live here. Now I wonder if it was really the spirit of my Mom!

MORE ABOUT THE NEIGHBOURHOOD

TUESDAY, October 3/06
As the days go by I remember more and more about this neighbourhood. We first came to Vancouver in 1947 and I enrolled in Templeton Junior High (at that time it was just grades 7 - 9 although now it goes to senior levels and nodays, unlike then, there is an excellent creative and drama program at the school.) That school terrified me, a shy little small-town girl from Ontario and the Prairies. It was then the largest school in the West, a rambling grey stucco building that to me was like a prison. I had to walk quite a distance to get there every morning as we lived outside of the area. It was early October when I started going there and the class had already started to study French which may as well have been Martian to me. I never did catch up and was totally daunted by everything, especially Math and Science. Even back then I dreamed only of becoming a writer and my parents were often called to the principal's office and scolded about my lack of interest in subjects that would have got me A's instead of C's.

At that time, before the clean-air policies that we have now, a lot of people burned sawdust, wood and coal to heat their houses and living on the Coast there were dense pea-soup fogs.
Some mornings, walking to school, the fog was so thick you couldn't read the street signs, so more often than not I'd miss the crossing and therefore be late for school. I was always getting caught by the monitors who were stationed at a table near the entrance and I'd get ticketed (detentions) for being late. Besides that, I have always been slightly dislexic when it comes to numbers and I could never remember the combination lock numbers on my locker so again, I'd be late for class. I wasn't a worldly city kid then. My class mates mostly intimidated me. There were a lot of rough kids at that school and every day there were fights in the school yard, taunts, bullying. I was often bullied myself because I was the Preacher's Kid, rather timid, and not as stylish as my peers. (My mom was an expert seamstress and made most of my clothes. And being a pastor Dad didn't earn much income so my parents couldn't afford to buy me tailor-made skirts and cashmere sweaters. Looking back though, I was pretty well dressed thanks to Mom who was very stylish herself.)

A few years ago I went back to that school for a reunion and felt the same oppressive feelings I recall having as a kid. Funny how those memories linger. I have much better memories of my high school, Britannia, which is near the Drive.

Another thing I remember, walking down Nanaimo Street...There used to be a street-car running down there and at the corner of Kitchener St. where I'd turn down to walk to school, there was always this funny Downs Syndrome guy who lived nearby with his elderly mother.
He had a conductor's cap and a ticket punch and the street-car conductors used to let him ride up and down the line punching passenger's tickets. Sometimes he'd stand in the road and direct traffic. Nowdays he'd be run over! Later they removed the street-cars and eventually along East Hastings became the route of the fabled Number 14 bus which has been made famous with a play by the same name.

Not too far away is the Pacific National Exhibition grounds where they hold an exhibition every year. It was mainly Playland back then, where we'd hang out to go ice skating or roller skating. And there was an excellent ride called the Shoot the Shute, a boat-like cart that was towed up to the top of a runway and then flew down spalshing into a water-filled tub at the bottom. That was my favorite ride other than the merry-go-round which has now been restored and resides at the Burnaby Heritage Park. (And yes, you can still ride it for a loonie! (that's a Can. dollar!)
My friends and I loved it when the P.N.E. was on and we especially liked sneaking into the side shows. By the time we were about 16 I think we'd got over the Italian phase and were into American sailors. I have a couple of photos of myself taken at the P.N.E. with some sailor I'd met (attracted mainly by the uniform!). I'm sure our mothers were at home wringing their hands and turning prematurely grey wondering what their girls were up to!

Later, I heard some of the old famous jazz musicians play there at the Gardens and sometimes we'd attend dances there. By the late 50's and 60's there were concerts by musicians like "Little Richard" and "Fats Domino" and once I even went to see Frank Sinatra in concert. Then, by the 70's when I'd returned to Vancouver from Alberta and was single again, there were all the great Blues and Rock shows including Elton John, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin. We went to all of them!

My more recent memories of this area, besides the four years I worked as head supervisor of the St. David's Preschool in the 70's, when I was a single mom trying to support two young teens, was the year I arrived back home after living in Greece in 1987. I had come home under duress -- partly due to family committments and partly because after five years there I was 'Greeked out' in particular because I'd had a very sad, wrenching breakpup with my Greek boyfriend. I was only back a month, on a one-way ticket, before I realized I had made a mistake. I moved into an apartment just down the hill from where I am now and tried to sort out my shattered life. Eventually I got a job in Chinatown as an E.S.L. teacher for an all Chinese daycare. This turned into a very interesting, though not very profitable situation and a year later I quit and went back to Greece again for six months.

One nice memories of living on Cambridge St. at that time was riding my bike to work every day. I recalled that this weekend when I took my bike out for a spin along the same route. I also recalled, in passing by a deserted old moving/storage building, that for a brief period when I was expecting my first child, I worked there as a file clerk. It's right down by the docks and I recall being nauseated by the smells so my Mom picked me up every day and drove me home for lunch as the only thing I could stomach was poached eggs on toast.

It's been interesting exploring this old neighbourhood. I'm feeling quite at home here and every day a new memory emerges, nearly all of them pleasant. It's nice to be back!

EXPLORING MY NEW NEIGHBOURHOOD

SATURDAY, SEPT. 30/06

Well, it's not really a 'new' neighbourhood I'm living in as this part of town was once my teen-age stomping grounds. But it's 'new' for me now, living on the north side of Hastings Street in a beautiful bright, clean, quiet apartment. I'm having an enjoyable time 'exploring' the 'hood and reminiscing as I take trips down memory lane.

When we were teens we hung out on The Drag, which is what we called East Hastings Street. (It isn't too far from The Drive, which is the area I just moved from). At that time, there were lots of Italian immigrants who had moved here after the war and settled in this neighbourhood, opening shops and planting beautiful gardens in their back yards. There would be knots of handsome dark-haired boys on the corners and my girlfriends and I were totally entranced.

There was a coffee shop on Hastings called "The Jolly Joan". It's still there but now it's called "The Master Chef". It used to be owned by the mother of one of my friends. It's small, and there were booths on the side and a big juke box. All the kids gathered there to drink cokes and eat burgers and listen to the current hit tunes on the juke box. My girlfriend R. and I were both short-sighted and heaven forbid being seen wearing glasses. So we'd stand outside the window and both of us would squint -- I could see if I pulled the corners of my eyes and she'd peer through the small space made by her closed fist, and we'd figure out where everyone was sitting before we went in. That was the cafe where I met my first love, Jimmy, the young man I later wrote my play "The Street" about. He used to drive an old grey Chev and we kids would pile into it and drive around.

There are still some of the same shops on the street that existed back then including some Italian delis and one particular barber shop that used to be called "Nick's". I have to laugh every time I pass there. Nick was this smooth sauve Italian with Brill-creme slicked black hair. He used to stand in front of his shop and make passes at us girls, sometimes getting pretty fresh with us. These days it would be called 'sexual harassment'. One October day (it must have been around Hallowe'en) we'd pretty well got fed up with his advances so we decided to take revenge. In those days we wore long navy-blue overcoats. We set out with bars of Ivory Soap and wrote all over the barber shop windows "This guy ought to be D-peed" and other stuff. Then we went back to the Jolly Joan and were sitting in a booth drinking coke when a police officer came in. (I think in those days there were beat cops). He asked us why we had 'done it' and ordered us to go with him to clean off the graffiti. We played innocent, pretended we didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"You wrote on the windows with soap!" he said. We denied it. Then, looking down we saw that the fronts of our navy-blue coats were covered with white soap flakes! The cafe owner stepped in then and defended our actions. She told the cop about the harassment we'd had from the barber and that he deserved to be 'punished' for what he'd been doing to us girls. In the end, the cop didn't make us go and wash the windows off. And the next morning when I was riding the bus to work, when the bus stopped at the light right in front of the barber shop I saw Nick out there with a pail and rag washing the graffiti off the windows. He never bothered us again!

There used to be a movie theatre on the corner where we'd go on weekends. I had my first 'date' there when I was in Junior High. During the movie the boy held my hand and kissed me. I was so embarassed I wouldn't go to school the next day as I didn't want to face him in class!
There was also a bowling alley across the street where my girlfriend met her future husband who worked there as a pin-boy.

My first job directing a pre-school was in this neighbourhood back in the early '70's. I spent four pleasant years as head supervisor of the St. David's Preschool which still exists. I left there because I was going on a trip to Europe -- the one that would take me to Turkey to be with my beautiful love, Hakki. I had met him while I worked at that preschool when he was here on a ship. I enjoyed that pre-school and have a lot of happy memories of times there. When I left the parents cried and presented me with a gold locket. Inside the locket I put some violets that Hakki gave me when I was in Istanbul. I still have it, and all those wonderful memories.

So every day when I go out browsing around my new 'hood, I am reminded of the past, and the good times my friends and I had. I think I'll start going to the water-fit over at the junior high which I attended when I first moved here from Ontario. I never cared for that school which was overwhelming and very prison-like to me, a small-town girl. And they didn't have the swimming pool back then. But now it's conveniently near at hand so I think I'll start going there instead of the other pool on the Drive.

I'm still close to the Drive though, and as that's where my social life is centered, it's nice to know I can walk over there or have a choice of buses to take. And the taxi fare isn't too expensive for those nights that I stay out too late to bus it home.

Yes, I'm very happy to be back here in this neighbouhood. My life once again has come full-circle and I hope I can stay here for a long, long time.

WHERE WERE YOU ON 9/11?

SEPTEMBER 11, 2006

Five years ago our world changed forever. Where were you on September 11, 2001?
I remember being woken up very early by my friend who said "Turn on the TV. Something terrible is happening in New York!" I tuned in just after the first plane had hit the tower and watched in horror the events unfold. It seemed unreal, like I was watching a disaster movie, not something that was actually happening. Later when I got the bus to work everyone seemed frozen in shock. Nobody was talking. It was all too unbelievable. All through the day, whenever we could at the daycare we checked to see what else was unfolding. Not only the two planes that hit the World Trade Centre towers, but one had dive-bombed into the Pentagon and another was taken down in a field killing all on board in spite of the valiant attempts by passengers to stop the terrorists. For days the pictures played and replayed and those images are now indelible in everyone's mind. I especially remember (still with horror) the couple, hand-in-hand plunging head first down from the top floors, the people waving white flags, the sight of those tall buildings crumbling like sand castles. Unbelievable!

That night I saw my friend Anibal. He too was stunned. But he also told me that it was a particular shock to him because on exactly that date in 1973 he recalled walking to work and seeing the war planes bomb the communications towers in Santiago Chile. They also bombed the Presidential Palace, killing Salvadore Allende, the socialist president who had been elected in a democratic vote by the people. Those planes were CIA/US sponsored war planes and Santiago was under seige by the military. As a result of the coup thousands of Chileans were raped, tortured, and murdered. My friend Anibal was on Pinochet's 'hit-list' and somehow managed to escape with his family to Argentina. I didn't know about 9/11 in Chile until that day and from then on I read all I could, watched videos, and got educated about what the U.S. role was in that military coup that resulted in so many deaths, family tragedies, and people like Anibal having to be exiled for years from the country they loved.

I grew up during the second World War as well, when thousands of people were killed every day and watched, horrified, the mushroom cloud rising over Hiroshima the day the Americans dropped the atom bomb.

War is a terrible thing. And this is the new 'war' -- terrorism. Those events that happened on September 11, 2001 have changed our world forever and changed the lives of those people who live in New York City.

I just experienced my third visit to that fabulous city. I noticed the change, not only in the security, the safeness, the cleanness of the City, but in the people. They seem quieter, kinder, more patient. I felt safe and happy there and felt it was a privilege to visit once again.
I had thought to go to Ground Zero, but decided not to because the City was filling up with others who had come specifically for the commemoration services and we knew that it would be very crowded at the site, and best left to those who had come to mourn loved ones or to pay their respects to those who died trying to save lives. Instead, we went on the round Manhattan boat cruise, and viewed Ground Zero from the River -- that huge gap between the skyscrapers.
When I first came to New York in 1968 they were just starting to build the World Trade Centre towers. I remember asking what the construction was. The next time I visited, the towers were there, rising like two massive glass sentinals overlooking the City. Now they are gone and that day will stay indelible in our minds. Those who died there will never be forgotten.
And we who live will carry on, try some way to find Peace in our World. Whatever happens, we must not let these evil terrorists defeat us or take away our freedom.

ON THE MOVE!

MONDAY, August 18/06

On Friday evening I got a peek at my new apartment. I met with my 'landlords', Jeni and Joe, for my very first viewing. (Til then I'd only seen Joe's apt. on the 3rd floor of the condo building.) Jeni brought along a bottle of champagne to celebrate the handing over of the keys!

My new home is on the fourth floor, S.W. corner with a balcony view overlooking pleasant neighbourhood gardens, west view of the city skyline and north view of the mountains. I can just visualize me sitting out there doing all my writing and perhaps painting too. The apartment is full of light, enhanced by skylights in the kitchen and bathroom. Everything is newly painted in a shell white with off-white carpeting. There's a built-in window seat by the bay window and in the bedroom, a built in dresser (all white, which will match my other bedroom furniture). My Moroccon-colored saffron and blue wicker pieces and my wicker couch with the burgundy Turkish patterened cushions are going to look splendid in the living room!

The kitchen is far more spacious than the one I have and has the window opening to pass through to the dining area or use as a counter with bar-stools. There are all the appliances, including dish-washer, microwave, and in the laundry room a washer-dryer. What luxury!
There's lots of shelf and cupboard and storage space too. I won't have junk crowded all around me like I've had in this old place that didn't even have a basement storage. I even have my own parking space in the secure underground parking (where I'll leave my bike as I have no car!).

I won't officially move til Sept 17 because of this up-and-coming trip to New York. But I am already starting to take a few small boxes over there and as soon as my friends with cars are available I'll start moving stuff by the car-load.

Tomorrow is the arbitration meeting regarding these current landlords, the Dragon Lady and the Pussy Cat, and I'm not looking forward to it except to make sure their dishonesty is made known to the arbitrator. And also to make sure they don't pull off any funny business and try to cheat me out of money like they did with my friend Sofie.

I know the new place will be much more condusive to creativity, with far less disruptions, no daily visits from the cops because of problems caused by the people in the apartment block across the street, no obnoxious neighbours and mostly reliable and kind landlords who are friends of mine. Everyone is so happy that I have found a comfortable and beautiful place to live. (No more cockroaches, mice and stinky hallways!) I know I'm going to be very happy there!

BLOGGING

SATURDAY, August 5.

Some people on this blogspot have been writing memes on the subject of "Blogging" so I thought I'd join in, just for fun.

When did you start blogging and why?
I started keeping an on-line journal (public) about six years ago on a site called www.rememory.com
I have always kept a written journal (for more personal and day-to-day writings) but rememory also had a contest section where you could enter little stories and win points for so-called prizes. That's what got me started writing my Memoirs. I've tried a couple of other on-line diaries but I always returned to rememory until finally one day it disappeared. Then it was recommended I try blogspot.com. So that's how I got here. Meanwhile, rememory resurfaced and I sometimes still write there too, although most of the familiar on-line friends there seem to have vanished. Now I'm meeting a new set of on-line friends and readers!

What don't you talk about?
On rememory I started a collection of memoirs called "Confessions of a Black Sheep". I think I have about twenty-five of them so far. These are sometimes 'intimate' stories of adventures in my life, but I don't always write the racy details. You'll have to read between the lines for that!
I don't think my kids would like me broadcasting all the naughty bits. In fact, when I wrote the series called "The Shipping News" I didn't go into explicit details about some of the escapades my friends and I had during those days when we were 'wharf rats' partying on Greek ships (my introduction to Greece and Greek men. Humahuma!) My girlfriends were disappointed and said they were too 'tame', those stories, and they wanted me to add in the details. I haven't done so as yet. I also like to rant now and then but I'm careful where I do it as I don't want to offend people by sounding 'racist' or whatever (because I'm not, but at times people (like my landlords) just infuriate me and I totally disagree with their policies and/or politics -- such as Bush and his gang including our Canadian Prime Minister and Tony "the Puppet" Blair. )

Are you and your blogger persona the same people?
Pretty well. Besides rememory.com I have three different blogs here on blogspot.com. One is "Living the Writer's Life" and that's focused mainly on me as a writer. "Conversations With Myself" is a place for trivia and ranting.
"Travel Through History" is my travel blog which I've found very useful as I am a travel journalist and I am inclined to add a lot of preliminary info and details to my travel blogs which I can use later in stories. My 'rememory.com' journal is also a place to discuss daily events and issues that are of interest or concern and I write in it mainly just for fun or to vent.

How do you use blogging to build friendships?
I met a lot of interesting people on rememory.com and a couple of them still message me regularly. There was a woman I met there who used to correspond with me regulalry, also exchange personal phone calls and snail mail. She was a writer too, and a very sweet person. One day she disappeared for awhile and when I phoned her it turned out she'd had a stroke. (She was under a great deal of personal pressure in her marriage and that must have brought it on as she was only in her 40's.) We had a few correspondences after that but I believe her motor skills and perhaps her memory were damaged. Then she disappeared altogether. I haven't heard from her since and wonder if she had another stroke and/or died.
Very sad, as I enjoyed her friendship. Since I've been writing on blogspot, especialy "Living the Writer's Life" I've connected with several other writers and this is a valuable connection for me.

How would you describe your writing style?
In my rememory journals, and Conversations With Myself, I write in a more casual style, more in the way I talk to my pals, with idioms and slang etc. On Living the Writer's Life I plan out the entries and use appropriate quotes, sometimes segments of my work-in-progress. I refer students in the writing classes that I instruct to this blog as there are usually some tips for writers along with stories of my own journey as a writer. My main genre is historical fiction, though I'm also a travel journalist and playwright. I think Living the Writer's Life reflects this 'voice'. Travel Through History is set up not only for the reader's interest but for my own information as I am a published travel journalist and use the information I have recorded there later on when I want to write a travel article about my adventures. It's also an easier way to keep my friends at home informed when I'm on the road, than trying to send everything over e-mail.

I believe Blogs are an important part of a writer's life as well as a way to motive writing and record aspects of your life. And it's fun sharing these stories and making connections with your readers.

As for my blog name: It's not totally an alias. And in fact I plan to use it for my historical fiction pen-name. "Wynn" is a Welsh name and a sort of short-form of my first name "Winifred" (not the one I go by) and "Bexton" is my mother's Saxon-sounding surname. "Ruthaki" is a Greek diminutive of my given name. And I'm also known sometimes as "Ruthita"

RETALIATING

"The pen is mightier than the sword."
Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Baron Lytton 1803-1873 "Richelieu" 1839 Act II, sc ii

(Yes, that's the same guy who penned the now-famous first line "It was a dark and stormy night.")

I've always found it easier to compose the written word rather than the spoken, although I am known as having the "gift of the gab" too. But when I'm angry and really upset, it's sometimes hard to say exactly the right thing, especially when I am livid like I was over getting the eviction notice. It took me a few days to calm down, and by then I'd picked up the forms for filing for an arbitration. Once I got them, I focused on what I wanted to say about these sleazy landlords, and to provide proof and contact numbers of a couple of other evictees -- tenants, like me, who had been long-term residents in good standing, who were kicked out on the pretence that the landlord (or family members) were going to move into their suites. They're using the same scam to evict me when it's pretty clear they are hoping to re-rent for more money. However, I've got all my facts and figures straight now and they aren't going to get away with it if they try. So I had two pages of comments about them on the arbitration papers which I filed the next day and picked up yesterday with a copy to serve the landlords.

Meanwhile, I have already found myself an absolutely beautiful suite to rent and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get it as it's a friend's suite. A bit expensive, but in doing my research I realize this is now the going rate. (Of course the landlords want to kick me out so they can up the rent!) So...it was with great glee today that I served the papers. At first I was a bit worried as they are illusive people. I know they live in the building, but not exactly sure which suite. The address they gave on the eviction notice as the 'address where they can be "contacted and documents served" is a non-existing suite number, just a mail box. But I did my sleuthing work today. Thought I caught the husband in the garden but he'd disappeared by the time I got downstairs. Next, we listened for the garage doors to open (easy, as they are just below my balcony). I had earlier checked the underground parking and noted that theirs is one of the only vehicles parked down there amongst the piles of discarded furniture, boxes and old mattrasses. (They people have turned this building into a pig-sty!) So I rushed downstairs to the basement and caught the whole gang of them coming in with their groceries. They looked surprised to see me. Heehee. I just smiled sweetly and handed Pussy Cat the envelope.
"Here, this is for you!" I said, and rushed back up the stairs.

I'm certain when they read the copy of what I wrote to the arbitrator they are going to be furious (too bad! It's all the truth!) and I am now looking forward to my day in tenants' 'court' to see what bold-faced lies they try and tell the adjudicator. (I was there with Sofie when they evicted her and it was sickening to hear Pussy Cat, putting on her sweet innocent face, insisting that she was going to move into the suite. She never did, of course, so Sofie was awarded an extra two months rent.) I'm hoping this is what will happen next and I have two other tenants who have promised to keep me informed.

In the meantime, I'm now looking forward to vacating this place. Although the rent is going to be somewhat higher than I had hoped to pay, the new suite has many amenities besides being in a secure and well-kept building. I just couldn't consider moving into another cheap place which would likely be infested with roaches and mice and rowdy neighbours and nasty landlords. Been there, done that! Now it's time for some luxury in my life! So by mid September I hope to be out of here!

A RANT ABOUT WAR

"It is easier to make war than peace." Georges Clemenceau 1841-1929 "Speech" 1919

I am not, nor will I ever be, a supporter of Israeli policies regarding the Palestinians. And this new war they have provoked, though it seems six-of-one-half-a-dozen-of-the-other is, as usual, only serving to harm and kill thousands of innocents as well as displacing the Lebanese (a lot of them Canadians) from their homes and families. This is wrong!

I am currently involved in a 'war' of my own, as of Sunday night when I was rudely disturbed after spending a peaceful and happy day, by the Dragon Lady and Pussy Cat, her ever-so-sweet and two-faced daughters who served me with an eviction notice. There reasons? Dragon Lady wants my suite. I was livid and let them know as much. This is not the first time these devious avaricious bitches have served eviction notices on long-term residents of this building. This time, it happened to be my turn. It should have been no surprise as ever since I first laid eyes on that weasely little woman I knew she was greedily eyeing my apartment.

I first met Dragon Lady in the spring of 2004 when my then landlord (another smooth, sly Chinese man) was touring groups through the building -- mainly requesting a peek at my suite because he said it was the nicest -- pretending they were people from the bank coming to take a look as he was supposedly applying for a mortagage loan. I noted immediately how she kept coming back to greedily eye my suite, and I instantly got bad vibes from her.
They proved to be Liars, all of them!

Following this, there was a brazen daylight robbery on the third floor. Three suites were broken into and a great many items stolem. The landlord was in the building as was another Chinese man on the roof. There were no signs of forced entry. When the manager was informed of the thefts he shrugged it off. A week later we get a notice that he'd sold the building. The Dragon Lady was the new owner and the first thing she did was evict three tenants, one of them a long-term tenant (over 20 yrs) and one of those who had been robbed, on the pretext that family members were moving into their suites. (They never did!) Neither Dragon Lady or her husband speak a word of English so from then on we were dealing with her two young college-student children, Pussy Cat and her equally sly brother. It was all trouble from the word 'go' and has never let up, ending with me being served with this eviction notice.

So, I'm off to 'war' armed with a request for arbitration and twelve pages of recorded complaints and letters from 2004 til now which I have against the managers (most of them never resolved). I will not go quietly from my home. Except for 1 year when I moved out to share an apartment with a friend (bad idea!) I have lived here since 1994. And because I know it is their usual tactics, to oust the long-term residence (except for a Korean family, all were Caucasians and replaced by more Chinese) or to vacate and up the rent because these are dishonest people who have no scruples or ethics are are greedy as sin.

If this sounds faintly racist, well perhaps it is, but with just cause. Yes, I do have lots of other Chinese friends and in fact worked for a year in a Chinese daycare Centre. But these are likely mainland China people who come here thinking they can bend the laws and do as they please -- anything to make a buck. I doubt they are even good Buddhists or they would know that this kind of behavior will provoke bad karma.

Anyway, no matter what I intend to come out a winner and thankfully I have lots of backing from friends. And, in the long-run, no matter what the outcome, I know I'll be better off away from this toxic situation which has been brewing for the last two years. Just the sound of that woman's voice turns my stomach and the sight of her makes me cringe. Evil and nasty is the best word for it. So, I'm going to get my mojo working and put out the Evil Eye. It is I who will be the winner in the end, because harming innocent people can only result in downfall of the perpetrators.

MORE ABOUT THOSE INDELIBLE DESIGNS

"WHERE TATTOO HORROR STORIES COME TO DIE"
That's the title of a news article I happen to run across yesterday. Reminded me of the blog I just wrote questioning the sensibility of tattoos -- mainly those massive body-covering ones that I'm seeing so often these days.

Well, for the record, here's what a local doctor has to say. He's a specialist in eliminating body art and sees up to 30 patients every day who want their tattoos removed. Several examples are given of the various people and types of tattoos he's been asked to eliminate which included one about a man who was brought in by his irate wife after he'd gone to Las Vegas and returned with a tattoo of a breastacious woman on each arm. The laser doctor also tells of a local gigolo who tattoos his name on the butts of his women conquests. Sort of a 'brand', like you'd brand a calf. What happened with a heart encircling dear old "Mom" that men (usually sailors) used to sport once upon a time before tattooing became 'fashionable'.

It costs a lot of money to remove unwanted body art and takes several treatments over a period of over six months to get rid of them. Usually it costs ten times what the tattoos cost and could run as high as $37,000 to get large tattoos removed. Patients are put under a local anesthetic and a laser is used to break down the ink after which the body's white blood cells disposes of it.

Sometimes it isn't successful. Johnny Depp simply altered "Winona Forever" to read "Wino Forever" when he split from the actress some years ago. Angelina Jolie was left with an ugly smudge when she tried to have Billy Bob's name erased from her arm.

Still want to go under the needle just for the sake of a current fad?

THE ILLUSTRATED LADIES

Tattoo (Tahitian 'tatau 1769) an indelible mark or figure fixed upon the body by insertion of
pigment under the skin.

Summer's here and it's beach time again. With everyone wearing scantier clothing I've been noticing the large number of people who are sporting tattoos. A few years ago it was mostly ankle or upper arm tattoos or small illustrations but it's kind of shocked me this summer to note the number of young women who have their entire arms and upper torsos and legs covered with illustrations. I can't help wondering if they've given any thought to the future. In observing the changes in my own body over the years, the loose flesh, sagging muscles, I can't imagine how hideous these tattoos are going to look in twenty or thirty years.

Twenty or so years ago when tattoos were usually only a guy thing, my beautiful young daughter came home one day with a rose tattoo over her breast. I have to admit it was tastefully done and at least in a location that could be easily covered if necessary. Shortly after though she announced she was getting a second tattoo and that was probably the one time I begged her not to. Of course her retort was "It's my body and I'll do what I like" so she did, and came home with a small unicorn on her upper shoulder. It turned into somewhat of an embarassement though when she was invited to be a bridesmaid at her friend's wedding and realized her tattoos would be visible. She also felt embarassed about having her Grandpa, a Baptist minister, see them. Some time later, a friend's young daughter was remarking over these tattoos and I heard my daughter say "Don't ever get a tattoo, Tay. You'll be sorry because you can't remove them." Sure enough several years after that she had to pay a lot of money to have the unicorn redyed as she was unable to remove it and it had faded into an ugly mess.
Nowdays those little tattoos of hers are pretty insignificant when you see the massive illustrations some of these gals are sporting. Most of them are not attractive, some are black dye and rather ugly and even the coloured illustrations, when they cover the entire arm to the wrist are excessive, in my opinion. I think it's a turn-off even to see men so heavily tattooed.

I recall noting on a trip to Morocco a few years ago, that the married Berber women have a line tattooed down the centre of their face from brow to chin. I suppose women in our culture would think that simple 'mark' to denote 'married' is barbaric. To the Berber women it's probably considered beautiful. In the Arabic and Indian cultures henna markings are fashionable and some of them I've seen on the hands and feet of women are quite gorgeous. But they're not permanent and are usually part of the marriage rites or other ceremonies.

A woman I know went and got a ladybug tattooed on her ankle as a 70th birthday present from her daughter. I thought that was a rather sweet idea, even considered getting the star of Macedonia tattooed on my ankle or shoulder. But somehow this summer, observing all these illustrated women I'm getting turned off the idea of permanently marking myself.

Remember that movie "The Illustrated Man"? Every tattoo on his body told a story of some adventure he'd had in his lifetime. I wonder what significance some of these massive tattooes have for the young women who are sporting them? I wonder, in a few years, if they will regret having them?