Theresa and I just arrived home from Florida the night before and the next morning we were standing in our driveway talking to some neighbours. Grace our amazing neighbour arrived home from her work at the local school as a crossing guard. She crossed the street and as she approached us I could see she was clearly upset. We gave her a hug and she looked us in the eye and asked if we heard of the terrible tragic event in the states. We said no and she blurted out the sad and tragic news of the pillage in the elementary school where 20 young, Innocent children were butchered.
Her eyes were filled with tears as she is a mother to nearly 700 kids at her school and the thought that this crime could be committed against Innocent kids was unspeakable. She turned and left expressing what justice would be for the man who committed this act.
Theresa and I were in shock and emotion welled up in my body and I was absolutely wordless. For the whole day I had these re occurring feelings and I was unable to write a blog to express my feelings. There are no words to express one's emotional response to such a tragic event. There are no answers to make you feel better. There is no way you can expect justice to be done as the man killed himself.
A nation weeps for the children, the families and everyone in the community will be in shock for years and the world has witnesed another tragic event which will leave so many unanswered questions. People will cry out to ban guns but the guns did not kill by themselves, it was the man who killed. The USA has a problem with it's constitution and the National Rifle Association in regard to its right to bear arms. Guns are so available it is easy to carry out these mass killings almost at will.
These mass killings have become so regular both here and in Canada and the USA that we wonder why. In Canada we used to have a program for treating people with mental issues. Today in Canada the majority of homeless people suffer from treatable medical conditions. We closed nearly all our facilities which used to care for these sick people but a number of years ago we turned them out on the street. The treatment now is for these people to report every so often to receive their drugs and goodbye.
Until we are able to identify, treat and care for people with mental issues which make them dangerous to themselves and the public, these tragic events will be a regular news item.
Showing posts with label tragedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tragedy. Show all posts
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
West Virginia
The tragedy at the coal mine in West Virginia tears at the heart strings of all people but particularly to those who are able to understand coal mining. Our family members were brought to Canada to toil in the coal pits of Cape Breton. Many like my father went down the pit at the tender age of 11 or twelve. Boy helpers they were called and being taken out of school in the seventh grade to help your father for a dollar a day was no way to start your life.
Mines were unsafe and the companies that owned the coal rights were often from off shore, in our case from England. Working twelve hours a day to pay the company store was no better than indentured slavery. Working conditions were harsh and dangerous. Many miners were killed annually but many more were injured and maimed. Nearly every miner had scars to prove or remind them of an accident.
My father had a dangerous job as a loader and later a chuck drawer. Coal dust was polluting the miners lungs and the disease of black lung ended many lives at an early age. When you heard that steam whistle blow and heard the ambulance rush down Pitt Street you wondered who was injured. As a young person I remember the town standing still for a moment when that whistle blew.
The tears and sorrow suffered by the families of miners cannot be imagined if you never lived it. In our town the main mine was called Princess Colliery but the company called it # 1. It was the largest submarine coal mine in North America and operated for a hundred years. During the war there were 1,000 men working there. I do not know the exact number of miners involved in accidents causing death but there were many.
There was a short story written about the price of coal and we studied it in grade school to help us understand our fathers job as a miner. The price of coal was paid by the blood of the miners. The miners knew the risks and the danger but there were no other jobs so my great grandfather, my grandfather and my father all worked in the pit. Back in the old country they were miners as well.
Miners and their families belong to a special clan and come together during times of pain and suffering. Funerals for the dead miners draw the whole town together in silent mourning. After every accident there is the usual investigation and the companies are found to be in violation of the codes but in the long run little is done. There is a strong code but it is not enforced. Inspectors are not permitted to shut the mine down while the company is in violation of the code so we will have many more terrible incidents like this latest but they are not accidents but preventable incidents.
My heart goes out to this little West Virginia town and I sadly remember my life as a coal miners son. My father vowed none of his sons would go down to work in the pit and none of us did. Dad broke the cycle by helping us to get an education.
Mines were unsafe and the companies that owned the coal rights were often from off shore, in our case from England. Working twelve hours a day to pay the company store was no better than indentured slavery. Working conditions were harsh and dangerous. Many miners were killed annually but many more were injured and maimed. Nearly every miner had scars to prove or remind them of an accident.
My father had a dangerous job as a loader and later a chuck drawer. Coal dust was polluting the miners lungs and the disease of black lung ended many lives at an early age. When you heard that steam whistle blow and heard the ambulance rush down Pitt Street you wondered who was injured. As a young person I remember the town standing still for a moment when that whistle blew.
The tears and sorrow suffered by the families of miners cannot be imagined if you never lived it. In our town the main mine was called Princess Colliery but the company called it # 1. It was the largest submarine coal mine in North America and operated for a hundred years. During the war there were 1,000 men working there. I do not know the exact number of miners involved in accidents causing death but there were many.
There was a short story written about the price of coal and we studied it in grade school to help us understand our fathers job as a miner. The price of coal was paid by the blood of the miners. The miners knew the risks and the danger but there were no other jobs so my great grandfather, my grandfather and my father all worked in the pit. Back in the old country they were miners as well.
Miners and their families belong to a special clan and come together during times of pain and suffering. Funerals for the dead miners draw the whole town together in silent mourning. After every accident there is the usual investigation and the companies are found to be in violation of the codes but in the long run little is done. There is a strong code but it is not enforced. Inspectors are not permitted to shut the mine down while the company is in violation of the code so we will have many more terrible incidents like this latest but they are not accidents but preventable incidents.
My heart goes out to this little West Virginia town and I sadly remember my life as a coal miners son. My father vowed none of his sons would go down to work in the pit and none of us did. Dad broke the cycle by helping us to get an education.
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