In it, I questioned all the pink ribbons being slapped on everything from cell phones to chocolate bars; and wondered out loud about corporate profit-teering from an illness that is hurting so many of us. I didn’t have any easy answers, and instead decided that rather than promote one of the many pink campaigns landing in my email box from PR firms to share some tips for early prevention.

With the Susan G. Komen Foundation in hot water, the issue of pink-washing is top of mind with many bloggers. For me, with a good friend preparing for chemo, cancer has been on my mind daily. So when I came across Annie’s most excellent post at PhD in Parenting titled “Cancer Sucks, Pink is Profitable, and Cures are Magically Blameless,” I had to share it with you.

She starts her post by admitting “that I haven’t always questioned pink washing as carefully as I should in the past.” This, I’m sure, we can all admit to. It feels good to buy pink … to feel like we’re contributing to a worthy and important cause.

However, she concludes, with the help of a documentary titled Pink Ribbons Inc., that pink is only profitable if it focuses on finding a cure–not prevention. Her words:

The bulk of breast cancer research money in past years has gone into researching a cure. In the movie, they note that only 3 to 5 percent of funds go towards prevention of breast cancer.  In Canada, around 6.5 percent of money raised goes towards research into risk factors and risk reduction. Why is the number so low?

• Is it because the prospect of a cure generates hope and therefore attracts more research dollars?
• Is it because the focus on the cure doesn’t upset any corporate sponsors that may be contributing to the cause?
• Is it because preventing cancer may dry up the enormous cash cow that pink ribbon campaigns have become?

And yet, more than anything, we need to find out why cancer rates are high and what we can do as a society in terms of prevention.

This image is not from a real campaign but illustrates an all-too-familiar corporate dichotomy. Image source.

Let’s demand accountability in exchange for our donation dollars.

To read more on this issue, please check out Annie’s post in full here, as well as by visiting Breast Cancer Action.

Edited to add: No, I’m not being a spoil-sport when I don’t play along with your “what colour” bra are you wearing meme on Facebook. It’s a f*cking terrible idea, people! (And you know I rarely swear on this blog, so I’m pretty serious here.) Please read this post at Toddler Planet to understand why. 

And another thing I’d like to add as well: As one reader as been so good as to share, the Komen story has evolved since I wrote this post. There’s a lot I didn’t know about this organization. You can learn more by reading this post by Jessica Gottlieb. I warn you though, it might make you feel like vomiting.

Liam Neeson in the film The Grey. Photo credit.

It’s old fashioned and sexist to believe that men should all be strong and brave, just as it would be to believe that all women should be nurturing and gentle. But the news has been filled with stories of weak, dishonourable men as of late. And it is making me long for a time (fictional or not) for when “men were men.”

First there is the Penn State football scandal in which assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky repeatedly abused young boys. On several occasions, according to this report posted today, Sandusky was caught in the middle of abusing a child:

• In the fall of 2000, a janitor named James Calhoun witnesses Sandusky pinning a young boy up against a wall and abusing him. He does not pull Sandusky off the child and get the child to safety.
• In this same year, another employee, Ronald Petrosky, is cleaning the showers and comes across Sandusky abusing another young boy. Again, another man witnesses a man abusing a child and does not intervene and get the child to safety.
• In 2002, a graduate assistant to the team, Mike McQueary, comes across Sandusky sodomizing a young boy. Yet again, another a grown man does not intervene and get the child to safety.

I like to think that if I had been in the position of any of the three men above that I would run up screaming and yelling and try to push Sandusky away from the child. I also strongly believe that the men I know best would rather risk a black eye and upsetting an influential sports figure on campus, than live with knowing that they walked away from a child who desperately needed help. It’s one thing to hear of suspected abuse, but to witness it in the act not intervene? I simply can’t understand this.

Next, we have Captain Schettino of the Costa Concordia. His ship goes down, and rather than working to organize a rescue, he jumps overboard and saves himself. From a lifeboat, he watches the passengers frantically trying to escape while a Coast Guard captain urges him to go back on board to assist with the rescue. The entire conversation between Schettino and the Coast Guard is recorded and you can hear the captain’s weak excuses for not going back and the Guard finally demanding that he do — ” Get back aboard, damn it!” – to no avail. There are 11 passengers confirmed dead, and another 23 still unaccounted for.

And last but not least, the major news from yesterday was the guilty verdict in the Shafia case. Three members of the family, including the father, are charged with killing four members of the family – three sisters and the father’s second wife. Again, we have a man, Mohammad Shafia, putting his own needs first.

In the Penn State case, it would seem that the men did nothing so that they could avoid ruffling the feathers of a popular football team’s leadership, while in the Costa Concordia situation, Schettino feared for his own life and ran for shelter rather than to fulfill his duty as captain. Then, with Shafia, he is so focused on his own “honour” and reputation, he murders his own flesh and blood. Rather than re-examine his own values and do the hard work of bridging a compromise with his daughters, he decided to just make the “problem” go away.

I know there are plenty of honourable men – and women — in our society today. They quietly do hard, brave work every day. But the spate of recent media stories has really had me feeling sick to my stomach.

I love the arts and I’m pretty much up for seeing any kind of performance. But this ballet did interest me in particular because, according to reviews, it was not your standard traditional ballet. So much so, that it was cautioned that this ballet is not intended for young children. Since I have an ongoing connection with Canada’s National Arts Centre, I got in touch and asked about tickets and doing a giveaway on the Coffee with Julie blog.

Last night, Hubby and I picked up our gifted tickets and attending the opening night of Svengali in Ottawa. Normally, I would bring a girlfriend to a ballet because Hubby has a tendency to fall asleep in any warm, dark room. But I thought he might enjoy this one, and it was a good excuse for a date night. I won’t go into the plot of the performance since other reviews (links included throughout this post) already do that, and will instead simply focus on our experience.

A Visual Turn-On

As it turns out, I was right. We both enjoyed the show immensely. To borrow the words of CBC art critic Robert Enright, it was a “visual turn-on.”

Svengali exerting his powers, played by Harrison James. Photo credit: Bruce Monk.

The choreography struck me as very unique, and in many instances, so emotionally moving. I lack the words to adequately describe this, without just sounding silly. But as example, in the car on the way home, Hubby pointed out a movement in particular where the dancers were fluttering their hands behind their backs. It sounds simple, right? But the way it was pulled off, combined with the music, was so effective. Here, Alison Mayes, an art critic with the Winnipeg Free Press, describes another series of powerful movements:

“In one poignant moment, Trilby (Amanda Green), the female star, has just become the toast of the town, showered with glitter and flowers. As soon as she’s out of the spotlight, she slumps and the bouquet slips to the floor — a snapshot of emptiness that speaks of manipulated stars like Michael Jackson.“

These kinds of poignant moments were brought to life through clever choreography throughout the night. I was particularly touched by one scene where men are coming up to Trilby, the central female character, and embracing her while a split second later, pushing her away to the floor like garbage.

Another photo of Svengali and Trilby, played by Amanda Green, an absolutely beautiful dancer. 

As much as Hubby and I were both mesmerized by the choreography, Paula Citron, an art critic with the Globe and Mail, panned it harshly. Her chief complaint seems to be how unrecognizable this rendition of Svengali is to its original tale, published in 1894. Since neither of us had ever read that book, this did not affect us in the least. However, she also notes:

“A major weakness in Godden’s production lies in the fact that Svengali’s hypnotic powers and charisma are practically invisible, rendering James about as threatening as a Boy Scout.”

She’s got a point here. I’m not sure if this is the fault of the choreography or the choice of James to play Svengali — who is a talented dancer but he does not bring an intimating physicality to the role — or both. Citron also feels that the archetypes and symbolism fall “flatter than a pancake.” And she may even have a point here as well.

But, again, this did not interfere with our enjoyment. It was a visual delight, from start to finish, and the plot was more of secondary consideration to us when all was said and done.

Even the costumes were captivating. Act III was an absolute highlight, with its glamorous and sexually alluring skin-coloured costumes.  (I tried to find a photograph for you, but I couldn’t.)

Unnecessary Distractions

As I’ve tried to explain above, any failures in the plot were of no real consequence to our overall enjoyment. But there were a minor few elements that I thought distracting, even bizarre.

• The opening music was from the birth scene in in the cult film “2001: A Space Odyssey.” I actually thought it was the Star Wars music at first. All in all, it seemed like a bizarre choice. Either too obvious or not obvious enough to be a tongue-in-cheek reference. Especially since no other pop culture music references were made in the rest of the performance.
• In a powerful scene where Svengali is destroying her metaphorical “hearts,” a large garbage can is pulled onto the stage. On it were bright white letters reading “GLASS.” Everything else was a metaphor … the paper hearts, etc, and here they write GLASS? Again, bizarre. Unnecessary and distracting.

And completely out of the control of the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, but:

• A woman stood in the aisle next to my seat and alternated between standing up and sitting down on the carpet. I’m assuming she had a bad back, but it was annoying. I noticed an employee crouching down to speak with her, but that didn’t seem to change anything and she stayed put.
• For the love of gawd, the National Arts Centre needs to do something about the women’s bathrooms. There are simply not enough stalls! There is nothing less elegant than a bunch of elegantly dressed woman waiting in a long line down a hallway to use the facilities. This taxpayer begs you to please funnel any public grant funds to building more women’s washrooms!

Should you rush out and get tickets?

If you have any interest in dance, I would highly recommend it. If you only have a passing interest in dance, but are looking for a nice date — hit Le Cafe and then the show, for a great evening. If you don’t enjoy dance performances at all and have a weak bladder, you might want to just take a pass.

The show is running in Ottawa at the NAC from January 26-28th, so you’ll need to act quick if you’d like to go. I checked ticket availability today and although the orchestra level looks mainly sold-out, there are many other seats still up for grabs. Prices range from $55-85 and you can buy them online by clicking here.

I don’t know about you, but I just love poking around people’s bookshelves and knowing what people have cracked open and set their minds to. So I thought I’d return the favour, so to speak.

This month, I will update my widget to show the following books that are currently sitting bedside — some waiting patiently, some already started.

The Meaning of Children by Beverly Akerman

I wasn’t sure what to make of this book when I first heard the title and saw the cover. I thought perhaps it was a non-fiction piece when Annie from PhD in Parenting suggested a few of us head out to the author’s reading when Akerman, a Canadian writer, was in town. But it is actually a collection of 14 short stories — each unique in its own tale and perspective. Katherine Hewitt of the Globe and Mail sums it up nicely: “Each story is an independent experiment, with varying results. But the sum of its parts is positive.” I really enjoyed this book. If you like short story collections a la Alice Munro style, I think you will too.

Enchantment, by Guy Kawasaki

I picked up Enchantment to participate in the Business Book Club that Karen at The Media Mesh started up. I haven’t started the book yet, but I’m really interested to participate as soon as I can get it read. Mostly, I’ve been wanting to read it because I admire everything that Kawasaki has achieved — he founded Alltop.com, held a key role at Apple, and is the author of 10 books. Not too shabby, eh? The book has become a sort of touch point in marketing circles, and I’d like to understand all the buzz.

The Hundred Dresses, by Eleanor Estes

I was inspired by a recent post by Andrea on her blog A Peek Inside the Fishbowl to start up a Mother-Daughter Book Club. I reached out to a few girlfriends who had daughters the same age as Stella and shared the idea and they immediately jumped on board. For our first book, one of my friends suggested The Hundred Dresses because, although it was originally written in 1944, it touches on the timely topic of bullying.

One Day, by David Nicolls

I had started to read the book Sarah’s Key but was really finding the material too emotionally disturbing, so I reached out to my Twitter folks for a “light reading” suggestion. I can’t quite remember who suggested this One Day, but I picked it up and couldn’t put it back down. It seems I was not the only one who read it compulsively, as this NY Times review attests, and now it is being made into a movie with Anne Hathaway. It is an interesting take on the classic Ross-Rachel long suffering, unrequited love story.

The Wealthy Barber Returns, by David Chilton

If you’re of my vintage, you’ll recall the original Wealthy Barber book, which was released in 1989 and was a hit with its story-telling format for finance lessons. I recall this book, handed to me by my parents I think, as a welcoming way of learning about managing your own personal finances. I’m about 3/4 through this book of Chilton’s and I’m finding it just “okay.” I suppose if I was a young person who was just starting out and needed to learn the basics, I’d appreciate it far more. But as it is, I am not gleaning much in the way of new insight and his jokey humour is starting to wear on me. However, Chilton’s approachable style to finance remains a breath of fresh air, and I’m definitely getting some good reminder notes.

Okay, so let’s be real … I have way more books than this stacked up high, teetering away on my bedside table (it’s a bit of a “problem,” says Hubby), but I am going to take a rest here. So tell me, what’s on your shelf?

January 2011: The new year started on a very high note when I found out that Coffee with Julie had placed 2nd and 3rd in two Canadian Weblog Awards. Then I started a thread of posts on over-consumption (I had so many other posts I wanted to write about on this topic, but never seemed to find the time to piece them together), that included a fabulous guest post by Pam Dillon. By mid-month, I had already faltered on some of my New Year’s resolutions. And finally, I gave up all pretenses of not being a social media geek and instead proudly announced this with a new piece of jewelry. In total, I wrote 12 posts that month.

February 2011: My grandmother turned 87 in this month, and I wrote about the passage of time. The nostalgic themes continued with a post on my first kiss, and a few other ramblings. In total, I wrote 7 posts in February.

March 2011: In this month, I had my first piece published in Parent & Child magazine and it was based on a birthday post from Coffee with Julie. I also shared a really spooky ghost story and jumped on the bandwagon to comment on “The Tiger Mom” concept embraced by Amy Chua. In total, I wrote 9 posts.

April 2011: This was a busy time for our family because we were getting the house that we’d lived in for 14 years ready for sale. I wrote a semi-pathetic sort of rambling letter to my blog explaining my lack of posts. And we were all quite shaken from witnessing our neighbour’s house go up in flames. In total, I wrote 8 posts.

May 2011: This was a fun month because I was given the opportunity to attend Blog World & New Media Expo in New York City for my work. I didn’t write much about it but did manage to share the trip via tweets. But my absolute favourite post from this month was “A conversation about Twitter and DH.” I wrote a total of 5 published posts and 1 still in draft titled “Misery thy name is OUTDOOR bootcamp.” (Related: I quit Bootcamp in May.)

June 2011: With the end of the school year came the bi-annual conundrum of what kind of teacher gift is appropriate (if any). I also wrote about QR codes and LinkedIn, but in the background we had sold our home — the first home and the only one our children had known — and I had anxiety about change on the mind. Oh, and Stella got a buckle fracture on her arm from rough-housing around outside. In total, I wrote 9 posts and 2 additional posts are still sitting there in draft format (poor neglected things!).

With each year, time passes more quickly. And that’s why this blog is so special to me … it is a chronicle of my life and looking back through the first 6 months of 2011 has brought back all sorts of great memories. Tomorrow, I’ll look at the final 6 months of 2011. Thanks for joining me on this trip down memory lane! Happy New Year to us All! xox

“Svengali: A person who manipulates or exerts excessive control over another.”

The origin of the word we know commonly know as “svengali” is actually from a novel published in 1894 by George Du Maurier. In it, a singer named Trilby is captured by an unsuccessful musician, Svengali. Svengali manages to live a life of luxury by keeping Trilby under hypnosis, performing concert performances and living as his slave.

In 1931, this same plot line was adapted for film and now The Royal Winnipeg Ballet is bringing its world-premiere adaptation to Ottawa, at Canada’s National Arts Centre from January 26-28th. So far, the reviews have been glowing.

I’m really looking forward to seeing it, and I’d like to give you the chance to come along too.

This giveaway is for:

- Two orchestra-level tickets to see Svengali at the NAC on Friday, January 27, 2011 at 8 pm

To enter to win:

- Make sure you’re available to attend the show on this day and time

- Leave a current email address when you comment so that I can reach you if you win

- For one entry: simply leave a comment below

- For one extra entry: tweet the following: “I entered to win tkts to @CanadasNAC with @coffeewithjulie. U can 2!  http://bit.ly/uXIG2m #RWBSvengali”

  Photo: Amanda Greeen, playing Trilby, in RWB’s Svengali.

Please note that I’ve read this ballet is not intended for children and contains “adult themes.” The draw will take place on Sunday, January 15th at 8 pm. Good luck!

p.s. If you’ve never been to a ballet and you’re not sure if you’d enjoy it, I found this article — “The Body’s Possibilities,” by Alicia Mosier — helped re-spark my own interest in this form of dance.

Edited to add on January 16th: AND THE WINNER IS!  memyselfsarah – Congrats! I will email you with the details. Let us know how you enjoy the show!

After making my first visit to the largest Ikea in Canada, I find this rather perplexing since I would much rather shop at my local Walmart than my new, huge, local Ikea, that’s for sure. Perhaps it’s that Ikea, with its design aesthetic and clever ads, is just more trendy and easier to like? More, how shall we say … yuppie.

I’m sure there are lots of sophisticated reasons for hating Walmart more than Ikea, but really, I think we’ve all probably been too gentle on our Swedish friend. Both pay their employees low wages, both have a significant impact on landscape due to the sheer size of their stores, both list China as a major supplier, and both encourage mass consumption.

But let’s put aside the “big perspective,” for a moment and let me rant, as an individual, about how irksome my recent shopping experience was at Ikea.

1. Reserved Parking for Hybrid Vehicles: As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a whole bunch of available parking spots right near the front. I assumed these spots were reserved for drivers with disabilities. But nooooo … these were for hybrid vehicles. Ha! Who does Ikea think its target market really is? The people shopping at Ikea are driving in from the suburbs in their mini-vans and SUVs or hitching a ride with their roommate in a beat-up second-hand car. Silly Ikea. Those hybrid car owners are strolling about their local, gentrified neighbourhood boutiques. So, there they sat — all these prime parking spots — empty.

2. No Windows: Enclosed spaces are not for humans. They might be necessary for transporting humans — like elevators or airplanes — but they are generally unpleasant. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be building codes for bedrooms to have windows, or office designs built around windows. Windows are pleasant. There are no windows where the products are in Ikea stores. It’s the same premise that casinos use, which helps people lose track of time and spend more money. Ikea’s funneling system (see #3) seems to magnify the effect that no windows has upon me.

3. The Lab Rat Syndrome: All Ikeas are built to push consumers past every single one of their wares. It is a single funnel that you are extruded through like an object or animal …. or, well, worse. The smaller Ikea we had in Ottawa did this of course, but its scale was so much smaller that it was merely irksome. On this more massive, larger scale? We moved between feeling like cattle being prodded through to the slaughterhouse to lab rats being observed from up high as we muddled through a maze. It felt uncomfortable. Too controlled. I had to fight an overwhelming sensation to run madly screaming, “Help! Where’s the exit?!”

4. Enviro-Cool: It seems that Ikea has jumped on the enviro-cool wagon. I’m all for enviro-friendly, but enviro-cool is just grating. Take the hybrid parking noted above. This is touted as one of their many eco-friendly features. But who are they kidding? All Ikea furniture is destined for the landfill — it cannot be passed down from generation to generation, heck, it can’t even be used second-hand because it won’t last long enough for that! Another stat used in virtually every press release and blog post that I read noted that this Ottawa Ikea store was 40% more efficient than its last store. Sure, that’s great … but if it really wanted to be enviro-friendly, it wouldn’t be the 18 times larger than the arena at ScotiaBank Place! The size is just crazy big. Too big, in fact, to be enjoyable (see #3).

Photography credit: Julie Oliver, Ottawa Citizen.

5. The Ottawa Sky-Line: Anyone who has recently driven eastward from Kanata on the Queensway on the way home from work has wondered: “Huh? What is that large light?” Only to find that it is the new, huge electronic billboard on the side of the Ikea building. Change to the horizon and our day-to-day landscape is inevitable, but this one is so ugly that it’s hard not to feel a little put out by it.

So there we have it: why I did not enjoy shopping in the new and “improved” Ottawa Ikea. In this case, I didn’t find bigger to be better. You? Love or hate, share your tales in the comments below.

Granted, there were always far more books than art. Much of the artwork that we had on the walls when I was a kid was of his own creation. He’s a very talented painter. But as time went on, and the house filled with more children, he had much less time to devote to his painting. But the books, they were always there. My dad always — always — has at least one book on the go.

I’m not sure where he acquired this taste for books and art. He grew up in a house with little money, and although both his parents were literate, I don’t recall a lot of books in my grandparents’ home. (Although I do recall with great fondness how my grandfather would pull you over to share an article from the newspaper. It made me feel special that he wanted to share it with me.) As for art, well … there was a massive velvet matador rug hanging on a wall. Let’s just leave it at that.

As for where I acquired this somewhat irrational need, especially in this day of e-readers, to surround myself with pretty paper bound together … I place the blame squarely on my father’s shoulders. I must have observed him with his nose in a book so many countless times that I concluded books were like a magical spell to which one happily surrendered themselves. In fact, as of late, I have joined the crowds on pinterest (an online bulletin board that allows you to pin up items that you find of interest and enjoy a voyeuristic tour of the pin boards of others), and I have a board titled “Books are little lovers.” Because, really, besides a book, what could hold a person’s attention with such force other than a new lover?

It will come as no surprise to you then that when I took my recent trip to New York City, beautiful book stores were visited. One of these was in a Brooklyn neighbourhood called Williamsburg. Home to artists and indie bands, and more recently, a gentrified collection of boutiques and shops, my friend Kerry and I were staying in a nearby area of Brooklyn and we toured over to Williamsburg on foot.

As soon as you walk in, your heartbeat slows and you melt into the vibe of Spoonbill & Sugartown Booksellers.

First opened in 1999, this bookstore specializes in both new and used books — contemporary art, design, architecture, photography, philosophy, and literature. Although I could spend an entire day in practically any bookstore, I know for certain that I could have spent at least two days in this one. Which is saying quite a bit since they are open from 10 am to 10 pm every day of the week!

Needless to say, I did not leave empty-handed. For Hubby, I found this really interesting used book titled The places of houses: Three architects suggest ways to build and inhabit houses.

Published in 1974, the authors believe that there are three elements fundamental to a successful house: rooms to live in, machines that serve life, and the dreams of the inhabitants. As someone who pours his soul into everything he builds, I really thought he’d enjoy this book.

I also picked up a book for my three-year-old son Max. Impossible to resist, I am a Bunny is a recreation of an original Golden book first published in 1963.

I loved the large images, with simple text. There’s much more to this book that I love, but I just don’t have the right words to describe it. And Max, as I suspected, adores it too.

Now, do I need to admit that I also treated myself to a book? Well of course, mes amis! It was “Month of Me,” wasn’t it? So, the book that I picked up for myself has a NYC beat to it. Titled Netherland, the publisher description reads:

“Unexpectedly finding himself marooned among the strange occupants of New York’s Chelsea Hotel, feeling lost in the country he has come to regard as home, Hans van den Brock begins an unlikely friendship with Chuck Ramkissoon, a charming Trinidadian who introduces Hands to an “other” America populated by immigrants and strivers of every race and nationality.”

I wish I could say I’ve read it. But for now, it sits prettily on the mighty stack of books by my bed. I have a lot of books waiting to be read. They are all so lovely;  just having them around makes me happy.

Disclosure: if you click on one of the book images above, the links are what are called “affiliate” links. What this means is that if you buy a book from one of my links, I will receive a 4% commission from the total price of the sale. So, if you are going to buy one of these books, please use my links because I will get rich if you do. Rich! Rich, I tell ya!

I have a treat for one of you: A $50 gift certificate from my BFF (aka Mark’s, remember?) … and just in time for the season change! (Yes, because I do still need to convince myself that I don’t hate winter. Cozy, cute winter clothes will help, right?)

I love online shopping (here’s a list of my favourite spots for getting errands done) and clothes shopping in increasingly joining my ever-expanding group of things that I never had to enter a mall for ever again. I think the only thing I still actually enjoy shopping for in person is shoes and books, and even those I still buy online sometimes too.

Anyhow, I digress. My point was that Mark’s has been working on creating a better online shopping experience on their website. It launched TODAY, and they’re really excited about it and would like you to take a look. In exchange for doing so, one of you will win a $50 gift certificate.

I’ve taken a good poke around the site and I’ve decided that if I was given $50 to spend at Mark’s, I would pick this:

This is the Denver Hayes Soft Draft Cardigan, and it’s priced at $33.74. With my left-over money, I would also add this to my shopping bag:

Mark’s calls these “Home Socks” which seems just perfect, because when I get home from the office I do love to put on big fluffy socks instead of slippers. These socks are priced at $14.99.

That brings my total to $48.73. And shipping is free until the end of the year anywhere in Canada!

I’d definitely be happy with the above selections. But I do think that, although they’ve made great strides in the right direction (such as adding customer review options, and cleaning up the design), Mark’s still needs to work on increasing the online inventory in the days ahead if they want to provide a true shopping experience. And I am hopeful that they will. (Especially so that I can add them to my list of faves!).

So, now it’s your turn. If you won the $50, what would you spend it on?

To enter this giveaway:

• Simply browse through the Mark’s website enter your selection(s) in the comments section below.
• I will do a draw using random.org in one week’s time (November 9th).

But I heard him. And I thought he was wrong. That he was transposing his own experience as a young gay man in the 1980s to that of today’s teenagers. That today’s youth have it so much better. That the world is so much more aware, more accepting, and less closeted.

After all, when I grew up in the 1980s, you’d be forgiven for thinking that there was not a single gay person in the entire high school. (Which, of course there were. These young people were not just in the closet, they were forced there and kept behind doors with lock and key.) Whereas when my younger siblings were in high school a decade later, there were openly gay students and an LGBT group that regularly met at school.

And the theatre piece we’d just seen, the Tony-award winning play The Normal Heart, was about a time even before mine. It told of a tight-knit group of friends working to refuse to let doctors, politicians and the press bury the truth of the then unspoken AIDS epidemic, more than a quarter of a century ago.

This man was speaking to his friend, an older woman, and he was seething. He said, “Things haven’t changed. After all this, after everything we’ve been through, things still haven’t changed.”

I hadn’t really thought about this man since I saw that performance, many months ago. But today, I have. And I’ve been thinking that he’s right.

How else can we explain the death of Jamie Hubley, a 15-year-old Canadian boy who lived in my city, and who committed suicide after public taunting at school for being gay and unsuccessful treatment for depression? It seems that “difference” is still not considered “normal.”

Of course, even in my school days, difference was taunted. Whether it was the colour of your skin, the way you talked, the freckles on your face, or the clothes you wore, if you were different, you could get eaten alive at school. Conformity was everywhere. It protected you, kept you under the radar. I blended in. I got along okay. But I remember the others who didn’t. It wasn’t pretty. Like Rick Mercer says in this video, school was a prison for these kids.

But why are children in groups so vicious? And what makes us this way? It seems that bullying has existed in school since the beginning of time. Literature from all time periods notes this kind of behaviour among children.

How can we consider ourselves evolved as a species when our young people are tearing each other apart like animals? Think I’m exaggerating? Jamie Hubley had batteries stuffed down his throat by a gang of fellow students who didn’t like his choice to figure skate rather than play hockey. How does this make any sense? What does it matter to them what type of skating he wants to do.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I’m raising more questions than answers. When am I going to wrap this up with a nice closing and some calls for action that will make a difference?

But I can’t. I’m now that man outside the theatre, seething with frustration, with tears in my eyes. How can we make sure that there are no more families like the Hubleys, left only with questions rather than their much-loved child.

There’s no such things as normal hearts. Just hearts. And they all hurt just the same when they’re clawed at.