C IS FOR CHALK — AND OTHER THOUGHTS ABOUT COMMUNICATING

Chalk on the sidewalk
writin' on the wall
everybody knows it
I love Paul.  ~ Annette With The Afterbeats, "Tall Paul" 

Communicating

First, there were words. Then, there was language.  

Then clay, and papyrus, and paper for recording ideas. Then Johnnes Gutenberg's movable type, and finally the computer. Communication comes in many forms.

Despite using a computer for much of my communication, I still have this fondness for fountain pen, and ink, and paper. It's almost antique, but it is what I like.

And I recall even more simple communication form — chalk on sidewalks.  "Johnny Loves Sue." Or  Hopscotch Designs — the perennial children's game. An invitation to play, perhaps.

I recall a couple of other uses of chalk on sidewalks. 

One was during the rise of the "Occupy" movement a year ago. Chalk messages on sidewalks were easy ways to tell the world about why Occupations were taking place. Some were cryptic; some, more literary.

The other was with the death of Canadian politician Jack Layton.

Layton, the son of a Conservative cabinet minister, had become the leader of the New Democratic Party (NDP) — Canada's Social Democratic political party. A significant political leap.

The federal election of 2011 saw a political transformation. For generations the NDP has been the "Third Party" in Canada, always well behind the Conservatives and the Liberals (the so-called natural governing party).

But when the election was over, the NDP, led by Layton, was the second party, well ahead of the Liberals.

Layton, recently recovered from cancer, and a broken hip, had led his party into new political territory.

But almost immediately after the election, a new cancer invaded Layton's life. And it killed him, less the four months after the election.

When he died, the whole country seemed to go into mourning. The nation had lost a Great Canadian. Layton, despite his Ph.D. in politics, was very much an "ordinary Canadian." He had the "common touch." While people may not have agreed with him, many felt an attachment to Jack Layton.

The Prime Minister even allowed a full state funeral for this political foe.

But aside the formalities, there was an opportunity for Ordinary Canadians to share in the public grief. Sidewalk chalk. On the square before Toronto's city hall. The city hall in which Layton had served as a municipal politician years before. And so the place was slowly covered with heart-felt messages from people, many strangers, who felt a heart-to-heart connection with the amazing politician.

More than Mechanics

The late Roy Currie, veteran broadcaster and teacher of broadcasters put it this way, "First you make sense, then you make sounds." Meaning, have something to say before you say something (or anything). 

At it's heart, communication is the sharing of ideas, a "meeting of meanings" (to quote Reuel Howe, in his book The Miracle of Dialogue). Indeed, the Latin word communicare means "to share."

While we might be caught up in the technology of communication — particularly of television advertising — there is an underlying story that is being told, being shared. 

Blogging the Story

Bloggers are communicators. Pure and simple. But instead of chalk on sidewalks, we use pixels on screens. Pixels on screens tell our stories.

But we still face the question: What are we saying when we blog? What are we sharing? Is it what way we want to share, what we intend to share? Or something else?

Conclusion

What am I communicating with my blog?  Ultimately, that is the question we need to ask ourselves.

The A - Z Challenge offers us a chance to do some analysis of our work, in comparison to the writing of others. Don't ask the question "Am I as good as other writers"? Ask the question "How are other writers telling their stories"? "What can I learn from them"?

IN WHICH BEAR HAS PECULIAR EXPERIENCE IN THE BUSH

As you realize, Bear has been very involved in "Occupy Saskatoon." One of the roughly 2,000 Occupy groups around the world.

Monday night, Bear and other "Occupiers" were at the regular meeting of Saskatoon City Council. We had a chance to chat with Council. And found some fairly enthusiastic response. (Meaning the Mayor, I think, actually had to bite his tongue.)  Truth is, you see, we got "in their face." We did it gently. That's the Canadian way. But I mean, really, when we've exposed the need, and are acting on it (housing homeless people), I think we have every right to speak up.

You already know Occupy Saskatoon had been "occupied" by a bunch of homeless people. So, their welfare and future became an immediate concern. Yes, in Saskatoon one can have a job and be homeless at the same time. Such is the price of rent (unless you want to share your place with rats, cockroaches, and bed bugs).

We weren't there to "fight city hall"; we were there to have a conversation with City Council. After all, we are "Occupy Saskatoon: Join the Conversation." (That's our full title.) Our goal is really to occupy peoples' minds, with questions of fairness, health, reasonable incomes and appropriate living standards for all. And then have a conversation.

But earlier today, we got the word that the City was planning to evict us from our location. It's a city park, with about as much bush as grassland. Great camping site; lots of protection from the elements. The word we received was that the police would be there at 6:00 p.m. for a "conversation." So a whole hockey sock full* of us were there to take on the . . . not police?!

Nope. Nary a constable nor sergeant to be seen. Nor the Inspector (Captain, for you Americans), who had talked with us last week.

Instead, a man from the Salvation Army's centre and a very friendly elected Councillor for the city (who used to be a community organizer in his past life).

Hmmmm. What is this? Two people who like us? Two people who support us? Two people who want to work with us? Wonders never cease!

Turns out that the City doesn't want to evict us; the major concern is for our health and safety. A "Won't you come in out of the cold?" gesture. Which was, obviously, not what we thought we would face.

So we did the very Canadian thing. We stood around the camp fire and had a friendly chat about the whole situation. And discovered some possible solutions. (No, we didn't quite get to singing "Kum by yah"; I left my banjo at home.)

We've agreed we're going to keep framing the conversation in "health and safety" language. Because that's what it is; that's the issue — people's health and safety.

"The System" could end up housing a bunch of Occupiers. Perhaps in the same place, to keep our community together. Which might even give us all some meeting space. I suggested (later) that we should call it "Occupy Saskatoon House." And when it gets too full, because of the extra people who come in, we'll let "the System" find a second house for those who won't fit in the first place.

Who? Me? Subversive? Perish the thought. 

Yes, I know; I should be hibernating. But, uh, well, I'm having way too much fun. We're actually starting to solve an immediate problem. Emphasis on "starting." Nobody has had to admitted defeat. Nobody feels like a loser. It's not "them and us"; it's "us and us." I mean, why quit when you're making progress?

Makes the ol' Bear's heart feel good.
________________________

* That's Canadianism for "a whole lot." Anyone who knows how much protective gear one wears when playing ice hockey, and how big a sock one needs to cover said gear on one's legs — such a person understands entirely. ;))

TELLING IT LIKE IT IS

My blogging Aussie friend, Natalie, raised a good question with me about the "Craziness in Church" post on my Desert Epiphanies blog: "Why can't you post this stuff on your other blog? Was there a reason in particular?" (This, Chrome on the Range, is the "other blog" to which Natalie is referring.)

A good question. As a curious human being, and die-hard journalist, I like good questions.

The short answer is that, if I posted everything here, it would be a real "mish-mash" of stuff. Health and ethics issues. Religious/faith issues. Journalistic/historical/philosophical issues. And the "ordinary stuff of life" issues, which is what I focus on here. People would never know what they're getting when they come on to this blog. Better to give people options of what they want to follow, and considering this my "home base," from which they can move, if they want.

That's my inclination. Do others among you have any observations? I would very much like to know. That would be helpful. Really.

I WRITE THE STORIES (4)

Back a while ago on this blog, in posts "And Where to Begin" (April 13th) and "Done the Deed" (April 16th), I shamelessly let you into my personal struggles to make sense out of something, and share my thoughts with the world. That's what we journalists try to do. Sometimes we do it well; sometimes, not so well. You readers get to be the judges.

I promised that, after it was published in the newspaper for which it was written, I would blog it (in a revised form). I have done that. It is on the blog which I use for ethical and journalistic writing, the one called "Bears Noting." You'll find the story as "Newspapers, R.I.P.??" Should you desire to comment, I'd be pleased to hear from you on either site.

In other news, a cheeky, chattery red squirrel has returned. As with the Dark-eyed Juncos this poses a dilemma. Is the squirrel part of the clean-up committee, or another mouth to feed? Such a deep, existential question is too much for the Bear tonight -- I can bearly get my brain to focus on it.

So, be cool, but stay warm.

THE GLOBAL, BLOGGING VILLAGE and ITS IMPORTANCE

A delightful soul calling herself "A Woman of No Importance" had some thoughtful ideas to share. And where thoughtful ideas are shared, and the Rob-bear comes across them, well, . . .

She began by sharing thanks for those who had expressed concern about hurting friends. then she observed:

The world is getting smaller and smaller, mes bloggy chums, supported by our love and growing friendship and admiration shown and shared across our blogs, writings, and feelings, (Oh, my male followers are slipping away, whooooosh, there they go.)

My response was to assure her this is one male reader, was "bearing" with her and wasn't "slipping away, whooooosh," when she talked about "the global village," as per Marshall McLuhan -- to whom I referred in my post "I WRITE THE STORIES (2)." In his Understanding Media, McLuhan observes "the globe has contracted, spatially, into a single large village." (xii)

So the "Woman" is right on: "Indeed, the world is getting smaller and smaller, mes bloggy chums, supported by our love and growing friendship and admiration shown and shared across our blogs, writings, and feelings." Our global villageness is expressed in our concern for things like Grizz's mishap and the far more serious accident of Braja, her husband, Jahnu and their driver. (The Grizz is the Woman's son.)

In our "global village" live no more than a wire apart. It's as easy as leaning your head over the back fence and chatting up your neighbour.

Any woman -- any person -- who recognizes these very important realities is not "of no importance."