The recent lapse of posts is a result of my increased hours at the office. The darkness keeps me there, knowing there is nothing I could be doing outside other than running or walking in the rain. So I stay later, and come in earlier. The only time I go outside during daylight is to get lunch. This darkness drives people into hibernation in Vancouver. RIght now, across Vancouver, thousands of people are curling up on their couches to watch movies and get stoned.

My younger brother has been barely turned on a computer yet he has a more advanced presence than I do. Typically done with much less effort than it seems.

Last week my mom sent me my high school alumni newsletter, Loyola Today. The front page revealed that my grade 7 (or secondary one, as we called it) English teacher had been murdered by gunmen in Jamaica. HIs name was Martin Royackers, SJ. I went to a Jesuit all-boys Catholic school. The Jesuits were the renegades and mercenaries of the Catholic church. It was founded by a warrior, and his tradition carried through into more than a few of my teachers. Our principal went down to Nicaragua, in the darkest days of it civil war, for 10 months. His mission was to work with the local villages to help them protect themselves against the CIA sponsored death squads, or as Ronald Reagan euphemistically called them, The Freedom Fighters. In a civil war between a recently disposed corrupt family dynasty and a socialist revolutionary, dirt poor villagers had nothing to gain from either side, their lot was going to remain miserable regardless of who was in power; all they could offer was free food and hiding. However, his duties often found him involved in confrontations from both the Contras and Sandinistas.
Father Brennan had spent years in the Phillipines, organizing villagers against onother US backed family dynasty. One of his better stories is how he was late for work one day and had to run to the village church, from his shanty some 5 minutes by foot. He was forced to take a long detour through a swamp due to the poison spitting frogs that were blocking the path. The delay saved his life; when he arrived 17 vilagers lay slain in front of the church, shot by Marcos' soldiers.

Royackers was a tough but fair man who did not suffer fools gladly. He could recognize even a trace of effort and skill. But for those who showed neither, he had nothing but contempt, and he rode your ass until you were on your way out.