On being ... an interest rekindled

By Ingrid Sapona 

The first 25 years of my life were consumed with formal education. Over the years since then, I’ve taken a few “continuing education” courses. They were offered by local colleges and universities but were mainly aimed at people who just had an interest in a particular field. The continuing ed courses were formal, classroom-based instruction with homework, though it was basically just to give students feedback. 

At some point, however, I kind of lost interest in continuing ed courses. Though I sometimes check to see what’s being offered, I always seem to find a reason not to sign up. For example, there have been courses I was interested in, but they had a prerequisite that I wasn’t interested in taking. Sometimes I vetoed courses because the fee seemed high, considering my interest was more curiosity than the desire to drink deep of the fountain of knowledge (apologies to Mr. Pope). And if I’m being honest, the idea of committing to showing up in a classroom for weeks on end is generally unappealing to me. 

A half-dozen years ago someone from my sail club mentioned an organization that offered “university-level lecture series” aimed at seniors seeking intellectual stimulation. Though I looked into it then, I wasn’t interested in attending the lectures at a nearby senior centre. 

During Covid, in person lectures had to stop, but the organization moved them to Zoom. That appealed to me. When they offered a series on music in movies, I figured I’d give them a try. I won’t bore you with the details, but the long and the short of it was I didn’t enjoy the course at all. In fairness, I hadn’t paid that close attention to the description. I didn’t realize the focus was pre-1970 films, so no music by John Williams or Hans Zimmer or any other composer I knew. The instructor was knowledgeable and enthusiastic but … well, my mistake. 

After Covid restrictions were lifted, the organization continued offering courses via Zoom. Given my earlier disappointment, I paid more attention to the titles and descriptions. For a long while, none of the topics appealed to. Then, last year one title caught my eye – Espionage: The Second Oldest Profession. A sucker for clever titles, I registered. I enjoyed the course thoroughly, but for reasons that were unexpected. We didn’t learn much about the craft of espionage, which is what I thought we’d hear about. But we did learn a lot of history. Indeed, what was most striking was how the instructor used the lens of spy craft to teach history. What a great idea! 

The next series I signed up for was about how the study of anatomy influenced medicine, religion, and art. Half way through I felt frustrated because it seemed more focused on religion than art. But even so, I had to admit I learned a lot about the Catholic religion. And, the last couple lectures did tie it all together. The instructor’s passion definitely brought the information to life in a way a textbook never could. 

Because of these experiences, I’m way more open to topics I might not have been interested in before. Sure, I still gravitate toward things I have a native interest in. But now I also consider whether a lecture series might fill in particular gaps (or sometimes gaping holes) in my knowledge. As well, there are some series that intrigue me just because I wouldn’t have imagined a course could be created around that topic. For example, if you were to ask me if I’m interested in a series on Ballets Russes, the answer is no. But the lecturer has designed a course framed around the machinations of a master impresario (The Master Impresario: Sergei Diaghilev & Ballets Russes). Intriguing, don’t you think? And, because the courses are reasonably priced, even if I learn just one thing per lecture, I figure I’m ahead of the game. (In a course on famous Toronto architects, for example, I learned what fritted glass is. If nothing else, I’m sure that’ll be useful in a future crossword!) 

I’ve always believed in lifelong learning, but I had definitely lost interest in pursuing it. These lectures have rekindled my willingness to partake in structured learning. How lucky that there are organizations that present thoughtfully and creatively crafted lectures by passionate experts. All you have to do is enroll and then be open to catching some of the lecturer’s enthusiasm.   

© 2025 Ingrid Sapona

On being … a lasting impression

By Ingrid Sapona 

As adults, we move in a lot of different circles – professional, social, within family groups, etc. We often cultivate a profile within certain groups. For example, in their professional life, some work at being seen for their expertise, or for being reliable, or thorough, or good at putting people together. In other settings, while we might not intentionally cultivate a reputation, we may end up with one. For example, in my family, I tend to stay in touch with folks and so I’m kind of known as the one to ask what the cousins are up to. And sometimes people remember us for the things we enjoy. For example, if someone’s invited you to dinner and you know they’re a chocoholic, choosing what to bring as a thank you is a no-brainer. 

I was reminded this past week of how we end up being thought of – and remembered – when I read the obituary of a former work colleague. Besides being saddened to learn of her death at just 73, the notice was a beautiful summary of the many different things she was known for. Her impressive professional accomplishments were mentioned, but her many passions – the things I think she thought of as defining her – took centre stage. While some of our work colleagues might have been surprised to read of her passion for pie baking, I wasn’t. I fondly remember discussions we had about whether the perfect peach pie is double crust or lattice-topped. 

Word of her passing also brought to mind a comment she made to me when we first met. It was an offhand comment that made me feel I might not fit in to the department we worked in. Given that we got along professionally and socially after that, I don’t think her intention was to make me feel wary. Indeed, I doubt she would have even remembered saying it – and yet it’s something I’d never forgotten. It’s funny the things that stick with us. 

A few days ago, I got a snail mail birthday card from an out-of-town friend. It featured a tongue-in-cheek commentary about marking birthdays – it was a hoot. In the card she wished me well and added that every day she thinks of me as she tries to master my “shoe/sock balancing routine”. I honestly had NO idea what she was talking about. Not only that, she mentioned that she still envies my “quick work of that trick”. What trick, I thought. 

We were university roommates and so I scoured my memory bank to think of what she might possibly be referring to. Absolutely nothing came to mind. The more I re-read the card, the more convinced I was that she must have been thinking of someone else. Still, it bothered me because I wondered if I was oblivious to impressions I leave or if she was just mistaken. 

Finally, I decided to email her to ask. I confessed I had no idea what she was talking about. She responded promptly. It turns out, it wasn’t some long-ago deed – it was from the last time I visited her. She explained that as I was putting on my sneakers (which I’d left near the door) I did one shoe at a time, balancing on the opposite leg as I tied the laces. 

She explained in her email: “You were like a stork balancing yourself while putting on the shoes. Kinda … Zen. I recall offering you a chair, but you were about keeping/retaining your balance while doing this daily task.” Ahhh… that makes sense. Balance has always been something I’ve worked to maintain and I imagine we talked about that as I was getting ready to leave. 

These two odd anecdotes drove home to me the idea that human interactions are rather unpredictable. Sometimes we work at honing a reputation and making an impression and then other times we say or do something that seems quite incidental to us but that leaves a lasting impression on others. Given this, I guess the best we can hope is that others will accept us for who we are.   

© 2025 Ingrid Sapona

 

 

On being … out of practice

By Ingrid Sapona 

One of the things I’ve been thinking about this week is the idea that something that was second nature can be hard to get back to if you’ve been away. As I’m sure you’ll realize in short order, one of the things I’m referring to is getting back to writing this column. 

Being surprised at being out of practice came to mind the other day on a walk. During Covid, when everything – including the gym in my condo – was closed, I got in the habit of taking long walks. (Like many, I bought into the 10,000 steps idea.) I’ve continued with them and I especially like early morning walks because that means that by 9 or 9:30, I feel I’ve accomplished something for the day. 

The other morning the sky was blue, the sidewalks looked dry, and Google told me the temperature was something like 22℉. Perfect, I thought, as I hit play on the audiobook on my phone and slipped it into my jacket pocket. Heading out the door, the nip in the air made me pull my zipper up as far as it would go and tuck my gloves into my sleeves. I was engrossed in the story I was listening to but about 5 minutes into the walk I thought, “Holy … it’s cold out here”! As is my usual, I didn’t have a hat or scarf with me and my jacket, though down, was light and short. I quickly realized it was the wind that I hadn’t accounted for. Though I wasn’t that far from home, I wasn’t about to turn around. I told myself that it was probably just a wind tunnel effect and that as soon as I turned the corner, it would be better. 

The wind never died and it was a darned cold walk. When I got home, I had a cup of tea and chided myself for forgetting what winter is like. A good reminder to check the wind chill, not just the temperature! A couple days later it was snowing and I had to go out. As I was getting ready, I realized I was a bit nervous, wondering if I had forgotten how to drive in snow. I’m relieved to report that I didn’t re-live the spin-out I did during my first Buffalo blizzard when I was 17 years old! So, I think I’ve now reacquainted myself with what it takes to get through winter in a northern clime. 

As far as getting back into writing the column after a lovely holiday where the worries of the world seemed far away, I truly am at a loss. Though I do comment on world events from time-to-time, On being… it’s not meant to be about politics. And yet, I feel so preoccupied with worry and fear about what’s going on, I find there’s little else on my mind. And based on conversations with friends and acquaintances, it seems I’m not alone. 

It's also true that I can’t bring myself to write about what’s unfolding as a result of Trump’s re-election because I fear I have a more negative outlook than many. I don’t have a reserve of optimism, either deep or shallow. (Yes, there’s always the judiciary… but what happens when court orders are ignored?) To the extent any readers feel democracy will win out, all I can say is I have no deeper hope than that you – and Martin Luther King – are right about the arc of the moral universe and the way it bends. 

Hopefully in the coming few weeks I’ll return to reflecting on more personal things and I’ll be able to write a proper On being… In the meanwhile, check the wind chill before you go out, and dress appropriately. 

© 2025 Ingrid Sapona

On being … that time of year

By Ingrid Sapona 

It’s that time of the year when the only thing I’m aware of is the warmth of the sun, the feel of the sand between my toes, and the taste of salt around the rim of my drink. 

I’ll be back at On being… mid-February. Until then, stay well. 

© 2025 Ingrid Sapona

On being … the 2024 Alpha List

By Ingrid Sapona 

How it can be the end of the year already is beyond me – but here we are. And so, here’s my annual review of some of the words, expressions, and phenomenon that hit my radar during the year. I’ll be interested to hear how many of these things you might have noticed – and what other things were remarkable to you but that aren’t included here.  

A is for assortative mating – this phrase came up in an opinion piece about soon-to-be vice president J.D. Vance – author of The Hillbilly Elegy, and his wife, Usha Chilukuri Vance. Assortative mating is the process by which people of similar backgrounds, such as educational attainment or financial means, select a partner. Given how Mr. Vance is so anti-elite, funny that he would have met his wife at Yale Law School, the kind of elite place folks like him are quick to condemn.  and

B is for border – Vivek Ramaswamy was recently in Vermont and he discovered that the Canada/U.S. border is WIDE OPEN! Who knew??  I wonder if anyone’s told him that – in fact – it’s the LONGEST undefended border in the world. Horrors! 

C is for civic pollution – that’s the noise you hear from people using speakers on their cellphones and tablets with no headphones (to the annoyance of those within earshot).  

D is for doxing – this is the public release(typically on-line) of identifiable information (for example, a home address or phone number) about a person usually with the intent of exposing them or punishing them. This disturbing trend is often accompanied by threats of violence. See the entry for the letters I and R. 

E is for evangelical – for a long while I was puzzled about how it is that Trump appeals to evangelicals. I always associated evangelicalism with religion but a Washington Post opinion piece helped me understand that in the age of Trump, the definition of evangelical has changed. Now, it seems, evangelicalism has become about shared political convictions – not religious convictions  

F is for frociaggine – that’s a term Pope Francis used in a meeting with priests in June. The term is considered by many to be an offensive slur against gays. But, in a move of empowerment, the gay community of Rome decided to adopt the word as the slogan of 2024 Pride. Great way of changing the narrative! 

G is for gender affirming care – this phrase has become a loaded term in both the U.S. and Canada. I wonder how many people who throw it around have a good idea of what gender affirming care is. Here’s a link to an informative article I read this year about what it is and the types of things professionals assess in providing it.  

H is for hurkle-durkle – this fun-to-say phrase was trending in social media earlier this year. Apparently, it’s a Scottish colloquialism meaning “to lie in bed or lounge about when one should be up and about”.  

I is for intimidation – this was the first entry I wrote on this alphabetical list – it related  to bomb threats that were made to eight state capital buildings on Jan. 3, 2024! Well, I’m sad to say that intimidation has taken quite a variety of forms throughout the year and is on an upward trend. Trump’s declarations about his intention to impose 25% tariffs on goods from it trading partners Canada and Mexico and his assertions about taking back the Panama Canal are just a few examples of the word in action.   

J is for journalists – 2024 has been a deadly year for journalists around the world. The figures vary, but they’re all disturbing. According to the UN, at least 68 journalists and media workers died doing their jobs this year. Of those, 42 were killed in conflict zones and 18 of those were in Palestine. The International Federations of Journalists reports that as of Dec. 10, 2024 worldwide 104 journalists were killed.  

K is for kaffiyeh – those of us old enough to remember Yasser Arafat know the kaffiyeh as the headscarf he wore. In 2024 it became the symbol of protests on campuses and beyond.  

L is for LISDIN – A friend of mine is a stickler about people mis-using the term acronym, so I don’t dare refer to LISDIN as an acronym (at this point). It’s a term I first noticed in an opinion piece by the survivor of a gunshot wound. It stands for: Life Is Short, Do It Now. Personally, I’m pulling for LISDIN to become an acronym (BOGO and FOMO have pretty much become acronyms, after all). Acronym or not, LISDIN is a sentiment I think more of us should live by.  

M is for mercurial – this is how Reuters described Elon Musk in a June article about his $56 Billion pay package from Tesla. When I read the Reuters article I had to look up the word because I thought of it more like the Shakespeare character Puck. Well, it turns out the definition includes thievishness. Wow, so the term is apt for Musk! 

N is for nativist – the politer word for racist these days.  

O is for opioid – Trump’s team thinks the solution to the opioid crisis is a border wall because they think that would cut off supply. If solving addiction problems is just about cutting off supply, then we could probably deal with food addiction and obesity by limiting the supply of food – no need for Ozempic. 

P is for Prevalence Inflation Theory – this is a term coined by some research psychologists. The theory basically is that too much news and discussion about mental health in children and adolescence can have negative consequences. The researchers say that while mental health awareness campaigns help some young people identify disorders that need treatment, over reporting of mild or transient symptoms might create the message that teenagers are vulnerable. I should note that the article also pointed out that this view remains a minority view among specialists in adolescent mental health. 

Q is for qualified – Trump’s proposed candidates for high-level posts re-define what constitutes being qualified. I guess Roget’s Thesaurus will be adding the word “qualified” as a synonym for friends of Trump. 

R is for rage and retribution – these emotions are certainly not new but in 2024 they clearly became normalized. They’ve also been supercharged thanks to social media. The results? Well, see letters D and I… 

S is for SneakerCon – that’s the name of the “convention” at which Trump introduced Trump Sneakers. A more appropriate name there never was…  

T is for tradwife – the term is short form for “traditional wife”. It popped up a few years ago and was attributed to women who believe their place is in the home and so they were choosing to take a “traditional role” in their marriage. Funny enough, in a not-so-traditional way, they went out of their way to post about it on social media. Anyway, this year the notion of tradwife took off among certain men. Indeed, in a commencement speech in May the Kansas City Chiefs’ place kicker attributed his success to the fact that he married a woman who embraced one of the most important titles of all: homemaker. 

U is for Ukraine – my hope is that at this time next year Ukraine will still be a country. These days, nothing is certain… 

V is for victim agnostic – this is a concept that explained why the U.S. warned Russia about a possible attack at a venue (Crocus Concert Hall). It will be interesting to see whether the new administration continues to apply a victim agnostic approach.  

W is for word salad – a common criticism of Kamala Harris. Meanwhile, Trump’s rambling incoherency on the campaign trail was described simply as the “weave”.  

X is for King Frederik X of Denmark – Before his coronation the King joked on social media about his “Musk-y moniker” saying that he would henceforth be known as “King Frederik X (formerly Twitter)”. What’s not to like about a King like that??  

Y is for yelling – though one of the dictionary definitions of yelling is to cheer and shout, these days yelling is more about anger and outrage. It’s also the default method many people use to express their views (and to intimidate). 

Z is for Zelenskyy – I realize this is the third year in a row that I’ve chosen Zelenskyy for the letter Z. It may seem like a lazy choice, but given that the war is over 1000 days old, how can the plight of Zelenskyy and his countrymen not be recognized. 

So, a random list for sure, though I fear that a handful of the items foreshadow what 2025 might bring. One thing I’ve learned the older I get is that about the best we can do is to take life one day at a time (and if you’re so inclined, pray a bit). 

Happy New Year! I hope to see you here (if not in person) in 2025. Thank you for reading. 

© 2024 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... insufficiently self-sufficient?

By Ingrid Sapona 

Unexplained water on the floor near one of my toilets has been of concern and puzzlement. About eight months ago I stepped on the bathmat by the toilet and my sock immediately felt wet. When I bent down to feel the memory foam bath mat, I realized it was totally soaked. I dried the floor and tried to figure out where the water came from. I checked all the things one would normally check and I could find no obvious source for water. 

I then laid paper towels around the base of the toilet and continually (ok, maybe obsessively) monitored them for moisture. Three or four days passed and there was no wetness. Strange… The only thing I could think of was perhaps I had knocked over the toilet brush holder and perhaps it had water in it and I didn’t even realize it until the mat had absorbed the spill. Anyway, the floor remained dry and eventually I put the bath mat back and relaxed a bit. 

Because I got a new toilet when I did the en suite renovation in September, I had the plumber move the old toilet into the guest bathroom. (It’s taller than the original one that was in there.) I used the guest bathroom during the en suite renovation and all was well. 

Then, about a month ago I happened to be putting something in the guest bathroom and I noticed that the bath mat near the toilet looked darker than usual. With a bit of trepidation, I stepped onto it and my sock got soaked. Ugh… What now? 

I knew that when the plumber moved the old toilet, he used a new seal gasket, which explains why there wasn’t a visible pool of water. (In fact, he didn’t use a wax one, he used one that’s more durable.) So, as with the incident back in March, it seems there must be a trickle that’s unnoticeable but that the memory foam absorbs over time. 

I called the contractor to give him a heads up that there was maybe something wrong with the toilet that had been moved. He had me check the typical possibilities (condensation, dripping from the water line, etc.) and I assured him there was no obvious moisture. Ironically, he had been here the day before because he was finishing some grouting in the en suite. He said that, in fact, he had poured a bucket of water down that toilet and flushed it and it seemed fine. Though he didn’t think he had spilled any water, at least that was a possible explanation. I said I’d monitor it. After a few days with all the paper towels still dry, I put the bath mat back and (again) breathed a sigh of relief.  

Well, one day this week the bath mat was soaked again. This time the contractor came over to see for himself. I took some solace in watching him checking all the things I had checked and – like me – he was stumped. He didn’t have time or the equipment with him to disconnect the toilet but his best guess is that the water shutoff valve or the hose is the cause of the ever-so-slow dripping. He put down some new paper towels and said we should wait to see. 

I told him I’d just as soon get a new one. I pointed out that it’s happened three times now in two different locations (which is why I don’t think it’s the water shutoff valve) and that I find it worrisome – and stressful – to just wait. He indicated that if he were me, he’d wait because even a new toilet can be defective. I appreciated his looking out for my wallet – not to mention not adding unnecessarily to landfills – but I don’t want to take the chance. He relented, saying he’ll come install it Monday. 

The next day, as I was waiting for Home Depot to deliver the new toilet, I noticed the paper towels were wet! At that point I turned off the water to the toilet, as I don’t need any more proof that there’s a problem. When the contractor comes on Monday, I truly hope that whatever the problem is it will be obvious – but I doubt it will be. 

I have a strong need to feel self-sufficient and this whole toilet thing has really challenged me on that front. Making matters worse is that there are all sorts of YouTube videos – and believe me I’ve watched many – that explain that toilets are so straightforward that only a few things that can cause problems. And of course, they make it look like all you need is a wee bit of strength and nerve and you should be able to tackle the job yourself. 

Though I know that when the contractor comes on Monday, part of me will feel like a wimpy female because maybe a guy would have waited. But I think at the end of the day there are two things that will help me salvage a bit of self-respect: first, I’m mature enough to admit when a task is beyond my ability, and second, I’ve worked hard all these years so at least I’m in the position where I can afford to buy a new toilet and to pay someone to install it. Here’s to a dry bathroom this Christmas! 

Happy Holidays to you and yours… 

© 2024 Ingrid Sapona

On being ... relatable

By Ingrid Sapona 

More than I care to admit, I find myself in conversations or situations where I feel that I’m just different from everyone else. Sometimes it has to do with “shared experiences” that I’ve not shared. For example, I’ve never been married – so I’ve never had a wedding. It’s not the being single part that makes me feel removed. It’s the way so many women go on-and-on about weddings, starting with descriptions of their hunt for their dream dress. (How else do you explain shows like Say Yes to the Dress.) The fact is, I never dreamt about my wedding or envisioned myself in a certain kind of gown (mermaid or otherwise). 

Then there are the assumptions about what girls read growing up. No Little Women or Pride and Prejudice for me. My passing knowledge of such stories came from movies. And, even after becoming familiar with them, I never saw myself in any of the characters, much less the stodgy manners of the day. 

The same with the topic of kids. When it comes up (and it does throughout one’s life – not just during the child bearing years) all I can say is that I really never gave it a thought. I wasn’t passionately in favour OR opposed – I just figured I’d see what happens. The response I get when I speak about what must sound to others as a laissez-faire outlook has definitely made me feel I’m out of step with the mainstream. Doesn’t bother me, mind you, but it often seems to provoke skepticism. 

And then there are the conversations where someone says, “Well, we’ve all been there before…” and then others around are all nodding their heads in agreement. Honestly, even when I’m with a group of people I have something in common with – say we’ve all practiced law or are all sailors, or whatever – I often find myself silently thinking, “Um, no, I can’t relate to that.” Maybe I’m not alone in thinking that, but it sure feels that way. 

Conclusions media types often draw regarding events is another area where I often find myself scratching my head thinking, “That’s not how I see it”. The very first example of this that I remember goes back to the 2004 U.S. presidential race. That year Dr. Howard Dean, who was the governor of Vermont, was seeking the Democratic nomination. Initially he was a long-shot, but he became the top fundraiser and a front-runner. He finished in third place in the Iowa caucus, however, which was clearly a disappointment to him and his supporters. But what ended up costing him the most that night was a very hoarse “Yeah!” he shouted at the end of a speech. I remembered seeing that and thinking, “Oh, the poor guy sounds so hoarse and looks so tired”. Well, the next day the media buzz was far more negative. The media branded it “the Dean scream” and it became the “gaffe” that some think cost him the election. I didn’t see the incident that way at all! 

Indeed, the flip side of feeling so different is that I am loath to generalize. For example, from time-to-time one of my sisters will ask me, “So how do Canadians feel about [fill in the blank]?” I’m always stymied by such queries. The best I can offer is a vague response. I explain some of the different viewpoints that I’ve heard, rather than assuming my fellow Canadians’ reactions are all similar. 

Since few weeks go by without my coming across something that makes me shake my head at how little I feel I have common with others, I’m accustomed to it. But the other day I experienced just the opposite – I read something that I could totally relate to. It was among a batch of funnies a friend emailed me. Though there were lots of jokes and cartoons in the email that made me laugh, one hit squarely on a behaviour of mine that I’ve never thought others might relate to. Here’s the humorous statement that took me aback: 

"One thing no one ever talks about when it comes to being an adult is how much time we debate keeping a carboard box because it’s, you know … a really good box." 

I so saw myself in that, as I have long known I’ve got a box fetish. But, it’s not something that comes up often in conversation, so I’ve always assumed it’s not a common attraction. Anyway, reading that joke made me realize there must be others out there that are at least a little like me, which was a delight! 

Though it may sound like a leap, this revelation made me think about trying to focus a bit more on things I might have in common with others, rather than just noticing the differences. Who knows, if we all tried that, the effort might be a small step toward combating polarization. Certainly couldn’t hurt, I figure… 

© 2024 Ingrid Sapona

On being … collateral damage

By Ingrid Sapona 

With On being… I aim to write about feelings and reactions to an incident or event that I think others might also feel or be able to relate to in some way. I try not to write about politics because the column isn’t meant as a wider social commentary. Avoiding writing about politics has been especially challenging this year, as there’s been an extraordinary amount of turmoil around the world. 

That said, it’s impossible to ignore the overwhelming sadness – and anger – that I’ve felt the past few years as millions of people have become collateral damage in political battles they have no direct control over. Pictures and stories about the plight of innocents literally caught in the crossfire in the middle east, in Ukraine, in Sudan, and other war-torn regions are the most obvious – and heinous – examples of collateral damage. (Not to mention the fact that those surviving such conflicts have no place to call home any more.) 

For those of us lucky enough to not live in fear of a bomb dropping on us or our loved ones at any moment, it’s important to have perspective and to not catastrophize over the results of an election. But just the same, damage to economic interests and rights that result from political decisions others take is very definitely a form of collateral damage. Indeed, a recent article about what might happen if Trump’s planned tariffs trigger a trade war noted that Ontario’s premier fears the people of Ontario would be collateral damage. Sadly, taking a page out of Trump’s handbook, the Ontario premier’s response is to urge the Canadian government to seek a bilateral trade deal with the U.S., rather than worry about a trilateral trade deal that includes Mexico. (Maybe the premier figures Mexico will be collateral damage under the incoming U.S. administration’s trade policy anyway, so elbows up – let’s only look out for Ontarians.) 

The title on a recent opinion piece in the Washington Post sums up the way many outside the U.S. view the election results: “Americans ordered up Donald Trump. The world will foot the bill.” Though that piece focuses on trade and immigration, mention of “the world” is a nice segue to yet another aspect of collateral damage the election of Trump will inflict: damage to mother earth. The trajectory the climate is on is in need of a course correction but not of the kind that’s likely to result from policies like “drill baby drill” and doing away with environmental regulations. Putting economic interests ahead of efforts to limit climate change is perhaps the hardest thing for me to fathom. The collateral damage caused by not working to solve climate change transcends both physical borders and generations. Shortsighted does begin to express the concerns even childless women like me have about what we’re leaving future generations. 

Usually by the time I sit down to write On being… I’ve figured out a few ways of coping with the particular matter I’m writing about. But I’ve not come up with any great ideas about how to staunch the fears I have of the – shall we say ripple effects (perhaps a less charged term than collateral damage) – of the U.S. election results. I have decided to limit my diet of news (there are only so many balaclava-clad folks waving Nazi flags I can see, or hate-motivated tweets and texts that I can hear about). But that’s really just something I can do to help my sanity. 

As for combating the powerless I feel to effect broad changes, I’ve decided that focusing on doing little things to help others is better than doing nothing. I figure just being kinder and more generous with people we cross paths with is a good start. Such action may not change others’ lives, but it may remind us of our shared humanity, which seems to me a necessary first step that could lead to bigger changes. 

What about you? What are your coping strategies in light of the political situation(s) around the world? If you have any insights (other than of the “this too shall pass” variety), please share them… 

© 2024 Ingrid Sapona