Auckland skyline with Sky Tower

Classic Auckland building engulfed by office tower

Old Auckland harbour lighthouse, now automated.

          Some of the best views of Auckland are from the water.
          One of the first things we learned on our harbour tour is that one in every five New Zealanders has a boat. One in every three has access to a boat.
          It is enough to make a Miramichier weep to see pilings and piers that stay in the water all year with boats removed only for cleaning.

          The harbour was especially busy because our tour took place on February 6. That is NZ Treaty Day, the national equivalent of our Canada Day. It marks the anniversary of the signing of the treaty that was to govern relations between the Maori tribes and the British.

Knowing the European tradition of dealings with aboriginal groups, perhaps you will not be astonished to learn that the treaty was written in English and Maori with the English version giving the British considerably better terms.

Miramichi style salute

Even so, Treaty Day is a national holiday. A  sailboat-load of boisterous young men saluted our passing tour boat with the universal sign of adolescent respect – several full moons.

Kiwis are like Miramichiers in other respects as well. When a Japanese firm won the contract to widen the harbour bridge, adding a lane of traffic to each side, the Kiwis promptly labeled them the “Nipon Clip-ons.”

Americas the odd ones?

          As the tour boat roamed out of the harbour and back, I was puzzled that the buoys seemed backwards. The captain told me that red, right, returning is the rule only in North America. He said everyone else in the world keeps green on the right returning.

          Nav lights are consistent, thank goodness. In New Zealand, there is still a little red port left in the glass.

          In addition to all the historic points in the harbour, there are several huge marinas, one with 1,800 berths.

          There is an upscale shopping, dining and residential basin that was the marina for the syndicates competing to take the Americas Cup back from New Zealand. It gives one an idea of just what a huge money deal Americas Cup competition is. Each syndicate had huge buildings and office suites.

          Tourists can now have a sail on an early version of the NZ champion.

More bits

          Fuel costs about $1.65 to $1.70 NZ. I think that is about $1.27 Cdn or so depending on the current exchange rate.

          It doesn’t seem to bother anyone much. Most cars are about the same size as ours although you don’t see nearly as many half=tons or SUVs. I  saw only one Hummer.

          One idea I noticed that I haven’t seen in Canada is mobile self-storage units. They seem to be about the size of the individual units Brian Bowes has about the Miramichi but they are on wheels. The unit comes to you for loading and, I suppose, can stay on your property or go back to a central storage park.

          One of the things that makes Auckland, and other New Zealand communities so attractive is that, for whatever reason, they have not torn down all their classic buildings and replaced them with concrete canyons.

          The older buildings also seem to last better. I assume that is because of the clement weather. In our part of the world, water soaks into limestone, freezes and pops off another layer from time to time.

          The architecture in New Zealand seems more imaginative too. I don’t know if weather has anything to do with that.

          In downtown Auckland, there is one modern, tall building that has incorporated what appears to be an entire older, classic building within it. It is very attractive.

No fat Kiwis

          One thing that is immediately obvious and, for me personally, somewhat mortifying, is that there seem to be almost no fat New Zealanders.

          The climate undoubtedly gets some of the credit. They seem not only not fat but fit. A TV station is running a series about the negative aspects of the fact that Kiwis eat more red meat than almost anyone else but it doesn’t seem to be doing tremendous harm to their appearance.

          I wonder what effect a lengthy sojourn here would have on me?

Rose Garden Park in Auckland has 5,000 different roses . . . . and a beach. That’s Michelle on her first New Zealand beach.

                               On our first full day in the country, we spent the morning planning our North Island itinerary with Allyson at the iSite NZ tourism office. The offices are more like travel agencies. They recommend and book tours, accommodations, transportation and auto rentals and give advice. They take immediate payment for whatever they book and issue vouchers.

                               The only trouble we had was convincing
Allyson that, while exploring and learning are important parts of our trip, we want free time for beach combing and relaxing.

                               It is a great service. I don’t know how the private travel agencies feel about it.

                               That afternoon, I watched the Superbowl and Michelle explored for business products and services she needs to conduct business from the bottom of the world.

                               The following day we took an Auckland city, hop-on, hop-off, bus tour. It gave us an idea of the areas and attractions where we would like spend more time. After the first circuit, we got off at the inner-city, upscale community of Parnell for lunch.

                               Our waitress, Bryanna, was a Canadian from Orillia. She’s working her way around the world. An agreement between New Zealand, Australia and Canada, allows our young people between 18 and 25 to visit the other countries and work for a year without going through a complicated visa process.

                               On our way out of the restaurant, Iguacu, we discovered that it had been chosen the best in the city and the country for 2007. We were not surprised. It was delightful.

                               http://www.iguacu.co.nz/

                               Our lunch there was one of those perfect moments in time. The food, wine, ambience and breeze were perfect. The weather was pleasantly tropical and the music included Sade who is perfect for that climate.

                               Meal prices are about the same as in a Canadian city. With GST included and the Canadian dollar advantage, they are not shocking. Although tipping is not a custom here, it is hard not to leave a little something when service is so often so cheerful and helpful.

                               As we move around the country, we continue to run into more such young women as Bryanna and Canadian ex pats.

Miramichi connection

                               Our first Miramichi connection occurred on the bus onward from Parnell. We heard a woman explaining to someone where New Brunswick is. She turned out to be Brenda nee Butcher, the late Rod Butcher’s sister. Rod was once the news director at Radio Station CFAN.

                               What we have not figured out is how anyone affords the real estate prices. Anything we see we like as much as home seems to be selling for about $1,000,000 to 4,000,000 depending on location.

                               Even with a 20 cent or so break on our dollar, that indicates that New Zealand’s paradise is not undiscovered. I wonder where Shania Twain’s several thousand hectares are?

                               It isn’t really surprising. The country is exactly the gorgeous, green, gentle, paradise of beaches, bays, coves, and exotic flora and fauna I had fantasized about all my life.

No mammals

                               The only mammals native to New Zealand are two kinds of very rare bats. There are no natural predators. There are no snakes, poisonous or otherwise. There is one spider with a venomous bite but it is so shy no one ever sees it.

                               Mankind and his companions from other climes are the only pernicious weeds in the country. Rats, cats, rabbits, possums, sheep and plants have been troublesome.

                               We hopped off the tour bus at Bastion Point Lookout where there is a Maori temple and grounds, and wondrous views. Our next pause was at Rose Park Gardens, where Michelle seized her first chance to get down to a beach and comb.

                               Next we stopped at the top of Mt. Eden, featuring a volcanic crater the Maori called the food bowl. Mt. Eden also offered more panoramic views of the city and environs.

                               There being no heavy industry in New Zealand, and the country being only 11 km wide at Auckland, the city air is fresh and clean.

                               The bus driver told me that the chief source of electricity in the country is hydro electric dams on rivers running down the mountain range formed by the volcanoes that formed the country.

                               The second main energy source is geothermal heat from those same volcanic sources.

                               The next column will deal with healthy Kiwis, boats, litter, water bridges and up island. It just gets better and better.

                                      DAC

          To get to New Zealand, we embarked at Moncton and hopped across the country to Hamilton, Calgary and Vancouver. We arrived at midnight and laid over until the next evening.

          Our hotel was in Richmond, a suburb with a large Chinese population. We learned years ago that a restaurant full of Chinese diners, is a good one.

          The one where we had lunch in Richmond revealed a hypocritical prejudice I had not thought much about before. There was a family of at least three generations of Chinese heritage women at the next table. They made a menu choice that led to the waiter coming to their table with a a noisy plastic tub. He removed the lid to reveal the source of the noise. There was a fish about 18 inches long flopping around inside.

          Apparently I have a squeamish, hypocritical, prejudice against eating food I have actually met at the hour of its death.

Assassin’s choice?

          On the way to  Vancouver we changed planes in Calgary. That gave us a chance to have supper. The restaurant was inside airport security. What reminded us of that was that it was served with a plastic knife. The odd thing was that the fork was metal.

          I have no training in the skills of the assassin but I wonder if James Bond might be able to do a bit of damage with a fork.

Air New Zealand

          Air New Zealand started a flight direct from Vancouver to Auckland November 1, 2007. It is a Boeing 777, a large comfortable aircraft.

          Each seat has its own TV screen and a choice of movies that start when you wish. When crew make an announcement, the movies pauses.

          The food is good and the 13-hour trip was not nearly as grueling as I had expected. Part of the reason for that, although the flight was completely booked, one passenger did not show up and that one was to sit in our row. We had a an extra seat. That was a blessing for me, perhaps even more so for Michelle and might be some consolation to the passenger who didn’t make it if he or she only knew.

Running start

          New Zealand is 17 hours ahead of home, and 13 hours ahead of Vancouver. We crossed the international date line on the way. We left Vancouver Friday evening and, after a 13-hour flight, arrived in
Auckland at shortly after six a.m. Sunday.

          That was, of course, far to early to check into our hotel so we left our bag and walked to the national museum atop the far side of a ravine. It is a young country. Even the first citizens only arrived about 1,000 years ago.

          A wonderful welcoming feature of the museum is a cultural presentation of Maori singing, dancing and co-ordinated movements with strings, balls and sticks that were used for hunting.        

          The demonstration also includes the haka, an intimidating ritual of gestures and shouts used by the Maori to intimidate anyone considering an attack.

          In recent years, the haka has become a pre-game ritual by the legendary New Zealand All Blacks rugby teams for whom it serves the same purpose. 

          The Maori had about 700 peaceful years before the Europeans showed up and began the usual carnage of disease, abuse and robbery. Mind you, the Maori had brought Pacific rats to a country with no land dwelling mammals. The rats and the humans commenced a program of extinctions that goes on to this day.

          We spent the rest of the day getting settled in and beginning the search for reasonable internet connection so Michelle can conduct her business and I can make postings to davidcadogan.ca. Broadband service in our hotel was 68 cents a minute, $40.80 NZ per hour. They do offer a package at $36 per day which, even with a favourable exchange rate is still outrageous. There are also volume limits on megabits transmitted. We found internet cafes with very reasonable $3 per hour rates but have had trouble sending attachments. My thumb drive wouldn’t work with the café computer and Michelle’s beloved Mac will receive but not transmit messages.

          When you see this, you will know we have found a solution.

                                                DAC

On the road – random raves

          Michelle and I are on the road. We’re spending six weeks in New Zealand.

          We are wrestling with internet access, making travel plans on the fly and finding our way in a new country.

          One of the first things we had to do is get adjusted to the time difference. It is 17 hours in the future here. Seven p.m., Atlantic time, for example, is noon the following day here. That is, of course, tremendously significant when the Superbowl is played at noon on Monday.

          I watched in a waterfront bar, O’Doolan’s, with a Kiwi, a Swedish sports medicine student specializing in sailing, a Scot, an Englishman, and a Welshman. For the first time in my life, I was the expert explaining how a defender not getting off the field before the snap could turn a fourth down punt situation into first and 10.

          NFL football was as mystifying to them as cricket is to me. News here is full of reports on matches between England and New Zealand. They are delivered in breathless jargon and I have no idea what they are talking about.

          With regard to the outcome of the game, I was disappointed the Pats didn’t win and have their perfect season.

          However, the Giants were the classy team that played all out in a nothing game to make the Pats earn their perfect regular season. One mistake, an interception Eli Manning threw to Rodney Harrison, was the climactic event of that game.

          Similarly, one mistake, letting Manning escape a sack and complete a miracle pass to Plaxico Burress, was the climactic event of the Superbowl.

          The Pats had several miracles go their way during the season. They came up one short.

          The Giants are deserving champions. They didn’t wear out in the fourth quarter as most of the Pats’ serious challengers had throughout the season.

          Any father cannot help but be thrilled for Archie Manning. Who could imagine having one son lead his team to the Superbowl championship one year and another the next? In  a novel, such a thing would draw nothing but snickers and guffaws from the critics.

If I were home . . .

          Engineers’ games are really fun. Locally, our local regional engineering association built the trebuchet that lobs pumpkins into the river.

          In Grand Falls this month, the engineers are sponsoring an igloo building contest and attempting to build a world record one themselves.

          Haven’t you always wanted to build an igloo?

          I have.

Sex at Vimy

          According to news reports, exhibitionists in Europe have taken to making videos of themselves having sex at famous places. The Vimy memorial in France is among the popular places to make such videos.

          Canadian officials and others have expressed outrage at the idea.

          I can’t reach any actual vets I know to find out how they feel about. Even they cannot know for sure how the dead Vimy commemorates would feel about it.

          My own feeling is that making love is among the main things lost when warriors make what we call “the ultimate sacrifice.” Making love is one of the ultimate expressions of life and love and lusty health.

          It is almost the opposite of death.

          Although we don’t often talk about it, death often inspires arousal in survivors. Death reminds us just how wonderful and precious life is.

          When I die, I don’t want a tombstone in a grave yard. Part of the reason for that is that I would like to have my remains put to whatever use they might be.

          Mainly, though, it is because I would prefer to be classified by a granite bench, on the seashore somewhere, where lovers would come to make out.

          I’m not at all sure we should consider love making at Vimy a desecration. We could choose to consider it the most vivid demonstration of what those unfortunate young men sacrificed for us.

          The worst insult to those who gave us the wonderful opportunities we have had would be not to live life to the fullest. They so much would have loved to have that chance for one more year, one more month, one more day.

                                                DAC

            The Miramichi Regional Hospital Foundation held its annual gala Saturday night. The Rodd Miramichi Inn manager, Jim Gertridge, gave its annual donation of $5,000 which is very, very generous. The Highland Society donated $10,000 which is also amazing.            The gala also honoured the memory of Jack Estey who was a constant supporter, personally and financially, of the foundation.

            The really WOW squared moment, though, was when Dr. Gerard Losier donated $500,000 on behalf of himself and his wife Judy. It was WOW squared because the same couple donated the same amount last year. Such generosity, dedication and commitment are simply unsurpassed.

            Gerard, speaking off the cuff, said he has a vision he is not yet ready to identify but that he intends to do more. He wants the local endowment built to allow the local hospital to acquire more leading edge equipment than will otherwise be available.

            He spoke off the cuff because an injured child required his attention  at the last minute before the gala. He wound up going to the hospital instead of drafting his comments.

            What an honour, privilege and joy it is to have a couple like Dr. Gerard and Judy among us.

            We are indeed fortunate to have them among us to set an example and inspire each of us to do, perhaps, a bit more.

Two wrongs make a stink

          Enterprise Miramichi is moving its offices from the east side of the river to the other to the great disappointment of the members of the Historic Business District members. The Business Improvement Area, like many downtowns is struggling to hold its own and grow.

            The reaction included a motion passed at city council to cut the city’s contribution to the organization from $35,000 to one dollar for the coming year.

            Miramichi Bay du Vin Member of the Legislative Assembly, Bill Fraser, joined in the chorus of criticism.

            Enterprise Miramichi board member Brent Tozer responded with a salvo of his own.

            I have about as much second-hand information as Brent and perhaps almost as much first hand. Until December, I was a partner in Waterfront Place, a commercial building on Water Street constantly looking for tenants. Miramichi Planning District Commission was one of the two other organizations in the same building as Enterprise Miramichi. It moved to Waterfront Place while I was a partner. Community Business Development Corporation Northumberland Inc., signed an agreement to move to Waterfront Place after I was no longer a partner.

            In my opinion, Enterprise Miramichi staff had little interest in trying to work with Historic Business District commercial property owners to achieve a solution. I think the decision to leave was a poor one for a development agency.

            Having said that, I believe city council’s motion to cut financial support was also wrong.

            While I disagree with the directors who made the decision to move, I believe directors have a duty to be directors, not puppets. It is hard enough to get volunteers for community service without expecting them to be simply messengers or rubber stamps.

            There will always be competition among neighbourhoods, landlords and bureaucrats. Each group will hardly ever believe they are treated fairly.

            As long time Boston congressman, Tip O’Neill, said, all politics is local. Usually, the smaller the stakes, the more bitter the battle. People fight hardest over pieces of the shrinking pie.

            The Enterprise Miramichi fiasco is just one more skirmish in a rivalry that goes back generations.

            On we go.

                                                            DAC              

            “Chatelaine” magazine’s February issue contains the results of their first sex survey ever. Almost 4,000 women responded. 53% of them said they want more sex. 5% have at least tried group sex. 20% of them have enjoyed a purely sexual relationship. 69% would rather spend the day at a nude beach than have a root canal dental procedure.

            Winston Churchill said that there are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.

            J J Walker, the skinny “Dyn-O-Mite” character from the TV show “Good Times,” 35 years ago pointed out a much larger problem with such statistics.

            “What good are they?” he demanded. “I don’t need numbers. I need names!”

            As fate would have it, there was a home show in Toronto last weekend while we were there. I pointed out this pathetic failure in the “Chatelaine” survey to a woman in the magazine’s booth.

            To her credit, she, being a marketing type, saw the potential right away. “Sounds like a high power follow up for the March issue!” she exclaimed.

            Shall we hold our breath?

Ahead to the past?

            The first Miramichi city council under Mayor Janice Morrison did something innovative. They hired a city manager. His name was Vachon and his job was to be like the president and general manager of a company.      Council, like a corporate board of directors, would determine policy and initiatives, and consider and approve budgets proposed for the execution of those policies and initiatives.

            The manager would run the show.

            It didn’t last. Councilors didn’t like that they met resistance when they tried to micromanage. Mr. Vachon had signed a personal contract with the city rather than becoming an employee. Somehow this became a scandalous issue as if he could not do his job if he were not personally on the payroll.

            That is extremely odd when you consider that cities hire lawyers, labour negotiators, accounting firms and construction firms to provide professional and specialized services and no on seems to have a problem with that. It seems to work all right for professional sports franchises.

            Well, except for the Toronto Maple Leafs, of course, but they are more a Shakespearian tragedy or a Mel Brooks farce than a sports franchise.

            Managers often set up their own companies to streamline their tax, pension, and benefit management, expenses and incidental income over a career. It has no relevance whatsoever to commitment to the job.

            If there is one dissatisfaction that surfaces over and over in discussions of City of Miramichi council, it is that they can’t resist micromanaging and can’t keep their noses out of any part of any department.

            Council has managers but they don’t really have the authority they should have and, frankly, some of them do not have recognized qualifications to do their jobs. It pains me to say this because I like the ones I know.

            Unfortunately, the city needs fewer department heads we like and more that actually know how to do their jobs and have the clout to fend off unwarranted interference.

            Surely it is time for Miramichi to move ahead to the past and hire a well-qualified, professional, city manager and turn city council into a board of directors rather than a high-school fundraiser carwash committee.

            Candidates are about to come out for the May elections. I’d be curious to know their ideas on the proper role of council.

                                                DAC

            On Saturday, January 19, Frank McKenna celebrated his 60^th birthday.

            His wife and children and Frank’s long-time, top general, Ruth McRea, organized a surprise party for him on Bay Street in Toronto. The party took place in what used to be the Toronto Stock Exchange before it went electronic. It is now known as The Design Exchange.

            The invitation stressed the importance of keeping it a secret. It seemed to work. Frank flushed almost as deeply as he did when CBC News announced they were officially declaring he had won all 58 seats in his first election as Premier of the Province of New Brunswick.

            David Peterson, former premier of Ontario, and political fan of Frank’s said he is one of the many who still hopes that one day Frank will be Prime Minister of Canada. The crowd of at least 300 burst into applause.

            Wallace McCain was another of the speakers paying tribute to Frank. When I lived in Woodstock in the early 1970s, Wallace’s health was a constant concern. He had some condition that was aggravated by stress. Many local people thought he was subject to a lot of stress.

            Saturday night, he looked healthier than I have ever seen him. He was trim and fit and dancing vigourously with his wife, Margaret Norrie McCain.

            She is still just as dynamic. She is promoting and looking for recruits for her efforts in the field of early child development. It is all part of her overall campaign against domestic violence.

            It was quite a shindig. I felt like an impostor. The Sesame Street tune “One of these things is not like the others,” kept running through my head. Many of the folks there could wear more than I’m worth.

            I’ve certainly never been in a room with that much money and power before.

            Just a few of the leaders I recognized there included Donald and David Sobey; Jim Pattison, the BC billionaire; Ron Joyce, the founder of Tim Horton’s; Rt. Hon. Paul Martin, former Prime Minister of Canada; Jim Irving; Hon. Shawn Graham and Roxanne; Robbie Tozer, Joyce and one of their daughters; and Denis Losier, a McKenna minister and now Assumption Life president and CEO.

            There was a tremendous collection of past, present and future bank presidents, national law firm partners, ambassadors, US state governors, political front and back room movers and shakers and corporate leaders. The president of The Gap was there from San Francisco. There were mining and energy company executives.

            Several of Frank’s old team were there including Francis McGuire, Steve McKinnon, Paul and Donna Lordon, Julian Walker, Mike and Mary Bowes, Maura McCluskey and Giorgio Gaudet, the man Frank assigned to make the Rodd Miramichi Inn deal happen here.

            The current Miramichi, Bay du Vin, MLA, Bill Fraser, was there. Rupert Bernard was supposed to be but the Friday storm blocked his flight.

            Those are just a few of the ones I remember.

            It was impressive to see the kind of turnout a party for Frank attracted. It takes a lot of royal jelly to command that kind of attention. People came from all over North America and even Europe to be with him on his birthday.

            Another man with that kind of charisma sent a video greeting that created a hush in the room.

            Former US president, Bill Clinton, said he wished he could be there but his wife had him busy helping her with a project on the weekend.

            He sent his best wishes to Frank and Julie and went on to say that 60 is not old and that he is sure Frank has service yet to give to his country.

            Julie and the children, Toby, James and master of ceremonies, Christine, had fun and were obviously ecstatic to see how their scheme was working. I can’t remember the last time I saw Julie so exuberantly happy. They were obviously thrilled to have pulled off such a great party.

            And it was a great party. There was a great band of the “Blood Sweat and Tears” or “Chicago” type. They played Dire Straits’s “Walk of Life,” of course, as Frank came to the stage. That meant most to the old gang who were there when it was the sound track to Frank’s march to power.

            Frank thanked just about everyone he ever knew especially Julie who, he said, was an amazing performer in Washington making connections as good as and better than he could as Canada’s ambassador. He talked about how he enjoyed his years in politics and confessed that respect and friendships develop with members across the aisle.

            His dedication to his family was celebrated in a slide show projected on the wall showing pictures of him at every stage of fatherhood and grandfatherhood. One, showing him kneeling, hands clasped, saying bedtime prayers with one of the children was one with which many a young father could identify.

            His grandchildren sang a video greeting to him from the Turks and Caicos where Frank and Julie now have a home in addition to the one in Toronto and the one in Cap Pele.

            He has moved up into various superstar leagues since I and many of his early friends and colleagues met him 30 years ago. It was a surprising privilege to have the chance to briefly observe the world he lives in now. At least his early friends and colleagues can say we aren’t surprised. It was obvious early on he had goals and the intelligence and drive to achieve them.It gives us an idea what it might have been like to play peewee hockey with Wayne Gretzky or Bobby  Orr.

            A swelligant, elegant party it was to paraphrase Frank Sinatra and Celeste Holm in “High Society.”

                                    DAC            

Shuck oysters (at least a half dozen per sandwich)

Save or reduce oyster liquor for flavour. I render it down with butter to a brown sauce consistency and pour it on sandwich contents.

Fill a pot with a couple of inches of vegetable oil

Dredge oysters in corn meal, seasoned to taste with garlic powder or garlic salt.

Put just a few (a half dozen or so) at a time into hot oil. They will float to the surface when they are done. Too many at a time cools the oil too much

Spoon them out with a slotted spoon and set on paper towel to drain.

Split a loaf of French bread lengthwise and cut into sandwich size lengths.

Spread bread with butter, mayonnaise or tartar sauce.

Season with salt, pepper and Cajun seasoning if you have it.

Shred lettuce and put a bed of it on bread.

Add fried oysters.

Add a few dabs of Tabasco sauce to taste for heat and to emphasize flavour.

Serve with your choice of pickles and hot sauce.

            The highway accident that claimed the lives of seven high school basketball players and a teacher returning to Bathurst Friday night is a nest of nightmares. The driver, his daughter and two players survived when the team van went out of control on the icy highway and slammed into an oncoming truck.

            Every loving parent’s worst nightmare is the thought of losing a child. Young, healthy people are all beautiful. When accident or war takes even one, we all die a little.

            In a tight little society like a high school, the loss of seven students is akin to the kind of loss classes might have had in WW I or WW II.

            As one of my children pointed out, most healthy young people that age have girlfriends and boyfriends. Most of them will never even have contemplated such a thing.

            The thought of being some part of the cause of such loss is another nightmare. A teacher, coach and volunteer driver who gave of his talent, time and example for decades was at the wheel when the van veered from his control.

            His wife was the adult teacher who died. His daughter was a survivor.

            A lifetime of contribution to young people and the community will have turned from warm memories and laughter to cold ashes and agony for that man.

            Nor can we imagine the horror of the images that will forever haunt the mind of the driver of the truck the van hit.

            Police, emergency response technicians and hospital staff have training for and experience with accidental and violent injury and death but they are no less human than the rest of us. They undoubtedly performed as required at the time. They will suffer a special sense of helplessness. They choose the caring professions to protect and help people. As helpless witnesses to such tragic loss, their very purpose in life is, temporarily at least, made a shambles.

            Sir Francis Bacon, Shakespeare’s contemporary wrote “A man with a wife and children hath given hostages to fortune.”

            John Donne wrote “Do not send to ask for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.”

            Fortune dealt us all a vicious blow on Friday night. We all grieve for the dead, their survivors, their community and ourselves.

            It is, to paraphrase St. John of the Cross, a dark night for our souls.

                                                DAC