January 15, 2016 carnegie newsletter

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15, 2016

NEWSLETTER 401 Main Street, Van 6A 2T7 604.665·2289

CARSN£6I£ COMMUNITY CENJTR£ C£L£BRSA TES 36 YEARSS

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Monday, January 18th I Noon - 2 PM I Complimentary 2nd Floor Concession

2nd

lunch

2:00 PM I Birthday cake and coffee Floor Lounge

Wednesday, January 20th

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The Carnegie Community Centre 36th Anniversary will be celebrated on two days this year. On January we will serve a free lunch beginning at noon and th continuing while quantities last. On January 20 (the actual anniversary date) we will be serving free coffee and cake at 2:00.

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A couple of other little notes.

On January 11th, the free Burrito Dinner for Volunteers will be served. The Centre is closed from 9 am - 12 pm on January zo" for our quarterly Full Staff Meeting.

The Carnegie Community Centre welcomes new staff who have recently joined the team in full time roles & others who have changed roles. To those who have moved on we offer our best wishes and a fond farewell: Sandy MacKeigan, who did programming in Oppenheimer Park for 17 years, has moved to Camegie as the Programmer responsible for Seniors, Recreation and Indigenous Programs. Gloria Tsui, who was Acting Programmer, has moved to the Outreach Team.

Karla Kioepper, originally with the Outreach Team, is the new Programmer at Oppenheimer Park.

Nicole Bird, originally with the kitchen and volunteer program, has become the Community Activity Coordinator for Indigenous Programs, replacing Cody Kenny who moved to Aboriginal Friendship Centre.

Sindy Bruno has succeeded Colleen Gorrie, who retired, as Volunteer Coordinator, & is job sharing with Lisa Lilge for the coming year.

Luke Vasak, who was originally in the Kitchen Program, is now the Assistant Volunteer Coordinator.

Diane Brown has moved into the role of Assistant Kitchen Coordinator and replaced Anthony Zdansky who has moved on to The Gathering Place.

And last but definitely not least, Kazuho Yamamoto, who has worked at Oppenheimer Park for some years has replaced Jason Bouchard as the Community Activity Coordinator responsible for Small Arts Grants.

Jason is moving on to pursue other interests.

On behalf of the Carnegie staff group & the Camegie Community Centre Association we look forward to beginning a new year with these wonderful new team members and wish to express our heartfelt thanks to Colleen Gorrie, Anthony Zdansky & Jason Bouchard who have moved on and left a legacy of commitment and dedication to a 10b well done.

Warm regards, ' Ethel Whitty - Director, Camegie Community Sharon Belli - Assistant Director.

Centre

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Saturday, January 30, 3:00 to 5:00 p.m, Carnegie Community Centre .

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2016

We are collecting stories and memories about Sam into a book. It will be open for your notes, poetry & photos at the Front Desk in Camegie and given to Sam's family on the 30th of January.

-» ...J

Give me your solidarity not your charity

MLA BY·ELECTION: Tuesday February 2 A FEW QUESTIONS

Give me your solidarity, not your charity.

Policy changes, not your cast-off clothes.

by Formerly Homeless Dave

Safe, affordable housing - not a mat on the floor Public transport and health care for all...

Access to higher education based on merit, not money.

Justice for my sisters on the highway of tears and everywhere and all the stolen kids trapped in a system which destroys our youth & those who love them.

Government policies exterminate our wild relatives, all our relations stealing their lives, their homes, for a trophy on the wall, a bounty collected ...

Government policy, it can kill you.

We want healthy, fresh food from the same store you get yours Not the expired, mouldy crap from the food banks we stood in line for hours for in summer sun and winter rain and snow with our bank statements to prove our poverty cause maybe a rich person will wait 2 hours for some old bread they have to be sure we are worthy of it I am your equal though I am poor I am your equal though I am sick Tossing a few bucks at the poverty pimps at Christmas will make you feel real good, but will not change anything.

Your dollars feed the system Which has failed us for decades And made us grovel For our survival.

Me and my kind will still be poor Still be without decent housing Still without decent clothes Still without decent food

So we finally have a by-election to replace Jenny Kwan. What does it mean for the DTES community?

Maybe nothing. One thing is for sure: people should not vote out of habit - that's probably a bad habit. So I have a few suggestions for people to ask the candidates when they come knocking on your door, or to a community centre.(The Liberal candidate has already refused an invitation to the All Candidates Meeting to be held in Carnegie Centre.)

But first the NDP has long not been the party of Tommy Douglas or even more recently the party of Jack Layton. It has shifted to the right under Tom MuIcair as Ed Broadbent first pointed out before he was silenced by the party bigwigs.

In BC the NDP is to the right ofthe Fed NDP--say whAAT? Yes leader John Horgan wavers on the KinderMorgan pipeline. He hedges on the Trans Pacific Partnership (TPP) which is an agreement by Corps and government to place their rules above local, provincial and fed law. In fact MuIcair is against the TPP but Horgan is not. • Ask why is Min for Housing Rich Coleman lobbying Trudeau to not build Social Housing.

Ask where the NDP stands on Social Housing for the DTES. Ask the Greens the same.

Ask them where they stand on the vicious city & VPD sweep of homeless & vulnerable vendors on Hastings Ask them where they stand on the Venture Capital Tech hub opening this November at the old CopShop 312 Main St. Ask them about where they stand on the block busting SequeU38 condos and 10 fancy boutique businesses opening with it. i The candidates: Pete Fry Greens-Melanie Mark NDP , -Gavin Dew Liberals.

Could be you and yours one day Then you'll see Why we need structural change Not spare change.

Roslyn Cassells

December 2015

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I a DTES SMALL ARI S GRANTS

Thank you very much for applying for DTESSmall Arts Grants. We are currently reviewing your application and the result of your application will be notified sometime between late-January and early-February.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contac~ the Coordinator,

Kay.

dtesartsgrants@gmail.com I 604-665-221 3 I vancouverfoundationsmallarts.ca Office Hours in January: Tue, Wed & Fri: 2pm-4pm (subject to change)

ANNOUNCEMENT For the month of February, in the 3rd floor Art Gallery, drawings by Stephen Belkin will be displayed.

The loose theme is "very slow TV." A warning to the sensitive - there will be arrogance.

Rock 'n Roll!

Some people are so special that when you see them there is an excitement that comes upon you; whether it is love or not they make an impact in your life.

Ther~ is a sense of sadness when suddenly they leave your life and leave a void in your heart.

Maria Teixeira

In this universe what you put out you get back in return - We need to be positive through the good & the bad, for as we have a need to be inspired there are others that ~ee~ to be inspired as well.

Maria

'f)-FE CRJo/AÂŁS 2:00

PM Sunday,January

24th, 2016 (CarnegieTheatre)

Blackbird Theatre celebrates its 10th anniversary with a wickedly witty, joyfully irreverent

production

of

Richard Brinsley Sheridan's The Rivals. Directed by Jessie-Award winning Johnna Wright, the comic master piece of love, pride, and other foibles will shift its timeless tale of mistaken identity and overwrought romance from an 18th century setting to 'Downton Abbey'-era Edwardian England.

Its whirlwind plot revolves around the bookishly romantic Lydia Languish, who adores her lover when she thinks he's a poor ensign, but is appalled when he turns out to be a well-connected Captain. Adding to complications,

Lydia finds herself beset on all sides by a retinue of eccentric, bumbling suitors and stymied

at every turn by her over-bearing,

formidable,

and linguistically-challenged

The stellar cast features Gabrielle Rose as the celebrated Mrs. Malaprop Duncan Fraser, Emma

siipp,

aunt, Mrs. Malaprop. and Martin Happer, Scott Bellis,

Luisa Jojic, John Emmet Tracy, Kirk Smith, and Jenny Wasko-Paterson.

Everyone is welcome but seating is limited so please come early!

From the Library Feather Spirit His spirit Light as a feather Shining from his eyes.

He sang a song Of love and compassion With his dear life.

The man In that battered body Dancing Into the Light Of his eternal Freedom.

A poem in memory of Sam

by Karen Thorpe

I've been with the Carnegie Library for almost two years, and met Sam my first week, as he was part of t~e Library and Education committee. I really enjoyed his company - such a gentle, positive spirit. Sometimes he would pop by the library to say hello, or I might join him for lunch in the cafeteria as many people did.

In November for the "Heart of the City" festival the library hosted a fun event at the SBC Restaurant ' (formerly Smilin' Buddha Cabaret) with author, Michael Christie. There was a cool connection since the SBC now has a skateboard ramp inside, and the protagonist in the bo If I Fall, If I Die was a young skateboarder.

It was an eclectic audience, and I was so happy to see Sam arrive for the event. It turned out he had a long history. with the venue as well! The author read a part from his book where the young boy Willmade a refe:ence to Igor Stravinski's "Rite of Spring," one of his mother's favourites. The boy claimed the music sounded like "a heinous multi-car accident, except the! cars are actually made out of orchestral instruments."

The only person who got the reference was Sam who ! ' , I b urst ~ut laughing! It was just such a joyous sound to hear him laugh. That's my favourite memory. RIP Sam. I -Natalie

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If you have yet to make a New Year's resolution, the Carnegie Library offers a simple one that hopefully is easy to attain ... meet someone new! Whether itis via a casual conversation, sharing a table in the cafeteria, volunteering here in the Centre, or reading a biography - you are bound to meet someone new.

The last book I read was a classic, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith, which is essentially the author's memoir of growing up in the early 1900s in the tenements of Brooklyn. "Francie" is eleven yearsold & has a hard-working mother of German descent, a charming yet mostly inebriated father of Irish descent, & a little brother whom she joins in many adventures. It was an easy read since you can't help but root for the girl when faced with judgment from teachers, doctors, charities, for being poor. By the end, I felt like I had a new friend. Here are some titles to get you going: M Train (2015) by Patti Smith. Smith has been a musical icon for decades, ever since her debut album Horses in 1975. This new publication is described as a meditation on life, exploring favourite daily haunts of New York, inspirational artwork like Frida Kahlo, relationships of love and loss.

On the Move, (2015) by Oliver Sacks. The cover of this book is pretty awesome - a vintage photo of Sacks in a leather jacket, posing on a sweet motorcycle. The memoir explores his obsession with motorcycles, his struggles with drug addiction, and his experiences as a neurologist. Full of honesty, humour and energy.

The Pawnbroker's Daughter (2015) by Maxine Kumin, Pulitzer Prize winning poet. This memoir follows Kumin's journey as a child in Philadelphia during the Depression when her father worked as a pawn broker, to her current status as poet, academic and feminist.

For more biographies, we have a display in the library featuring many interesting people.

Your librarian, Natalie

The Quick Nickel You know that local "entertainment weekly" that used to be a hard hitting newspaper, the lefty independent now reduced to a loud mess of advertising held together by the odd decent article? You know the paper I mean. One afternoon it's raining and I'm so bored I've been reduced to reading it cover to cover, advertising included, when my glazed eyeball falls on an ad from a gold and coin dealer full of pretty pictures of estate jools. The raven in me just adores that shiny shit. So I'm idly drooling over an emerald ring and note with sudden surprise they're offering four thousand dollars for a 1921 Canadian nickel. Holy crap!

That's a lot of money for ---- hold the phone: I've got a nickel from the twenties. O.My.Gawd. Starving to death in this shithole SRO and I could be rich rich rich are you kidding me??! Four thousand dollars!!

The question is, if I was a King George V nickel hiding in a scumbag hotel, where the fuck would I be?

And in my mind's eye I get a clear picture of it reposing peacefully in the rubble at the bottom of one of my treasure boxes. Not real treasure, just trinkets that don't mean shit to anyone but you, and the boxes are those old English tins that once held biscuits or toffees or the best Darjeeling tea. The one keeping the nickel safe was an oblong green tin decorated with a bunch of round green musicians gathered around a jolly harpsichordist who bore an unfortunate resemblance to Christy Clark. Poor man. the green tin is?

Living in an SRO means life is an ongoing series o{ compromises, including making furniture out of corrugated boxes filled with the remains of your former life. Mind you, with a bit of imagination a few boxes solidly stuffed with books makes a surprisingly serviceable armchair once you pad it out a bit with an old quilt. And of course the box I'm pretty sure contains the biscuit tin is - where else? -- on the bottom layer. It's as I'm taking the chair apart that visions of sugarplums start dancing the mazurka in my head.

Four thousand dollars! OMG I can buy a decent meal ---no, several decent meals. Decent meals for all my friends! And a new backpack because the current one is held together with duct tape. New socks & undies!

And new boots so my feet stay dry but hey this is Vancouver - it never rains here. OMG I could buy a phone! A laptop --- OMFG I could be in touch with the outside world again! And maybe one of them little

fridges with a freezer so I can stop drinking warm vodka like some kind of barbarian. Cat treats! My poor kitty must be just as bored with dry chow as I am with Cuppa Soop and KD. And maybe a new toque . because the moths appear to love myoId black one as much as I do, the voracious little bastards. And I could buy ... and I could buy ...uh ...oh there's the box ... and sure enough, there's the green tin. All the little bits inside sift loosely as I pick it up, pop the lid on four inches of pretty rubble. Ah. My Terry Fox Marathon ef Hope button --- why was he taken and that other asshole allowed to live? Something very wrong there. MyoId DERA pin; some antique buttons, pretty rocks and seashells and beads. Old marbles and broken bits of jewellery from old boyfriends I can still stand to think about. Chunks of rock crystal and beach glass and semi-precious stones. Coins from my travels and those of friends ...and yes of course: an old King George nickel. There it was, just like I knew. I always know. I can be bloody irritating sometimes.

Good old King George the Fifth and his humourless face. The silver is so weathered the brim of his crown has been worn away leaving a profile that looks a lot like Giger's alien or a Bishop's mitre. On the reverse, 'Canada' wrote proud, arching across the top and bracketed by "5~' and "Cents," embellished with two maple leaves I bounced it in my hand - it was heavy: real nickel? Born in Sudbury, were you? And the date, where's the date??!! !Turning back to the George side I find it, tiny but clear: 1922. *&"'%$#@!

OH for...

Ah well. Maybe it's still worth something? Half, maybe? Two thousand dollars would be a bit of alright, I could live with two grand. But I'm not so dumb as I look; that 1921 nickel was somehow flawed and production probably halted, ensuring its rarity, but mine could still be worth something, you'd think? So I rip the ad out ofthe paper and head out in the rain to the Carnegie free phone.

I tell the woman that answers the phone I have a 1922 King George nickel, could she please let me know what it's worth?

"Nineteen twenty-two? Let me check the catalogue."

She's back in less than a minute and says, "Ten cents."

Even before I manage to hang up the phone I've started laughing.

By Debra McNaught

Coffee "What about your Paramour Du Jour? Do they know about us?" My question hung over our conversation in the air between us like a vengeful Sword of Damocles, like a daemonically possessed Coleridge Albatross, like a... -"Gee, you really know how to put a damper on things, doncha?" said my coffee partner with a rueful smile. "So what if they do know? I don't like Mondays."

"I don't need the added grief right now, that's all," I said mildly, nervously tweaking with the tip of my spoon the original, anonymous, barista artwork gracing the foam surfacing my latte. The last thing I needed was some deranged, irate, wronged lover going apeshit-postal on me now, when I hadn't even filed my taxes yet. You just know it's going to be a bad day when you wake up dead knowing the government is pissed at you, and all because one of your illicit love affairs turned sour.

"Christmas got you down?" Everyone was in hock now because the recent well-intentioned priming of the economy via a "hold-the-line!" low prime lending rate had run dead up against coincidental profit-sapping rock-bottom oil pricing, and right at Christmas time, too. It had been intended as a present for the children, of course: True to form, however, after the idea went south, stiff upper lips abounded all around, mum's the word, and all'o'that.

Nary even a New Year's resolution to "leave the money in the bank account alone" was heard.

"Nah, it's the usual poetic doldrums. I've never been able to shake myself completely free of the idea that poets are merely en effet the descendants of a long line of maiden aunts. How horribly' depressing, and unfortunately for me also, obsessing, prepossessing and regressing." ' "Ah, four mournful mood modifiers. You're in luck: the Chinese associate the number four with death."

Taking a sip, I smiled over my cup with only my eyes. "Again with the bon mot, eh? You always know exactly what to say to me to cheer me up."

Although it's well-known that poets have their own deaths, I was worried that--because of the recent passing of compassion and empathy--even this untouchable idea would soon fall by the wayside, it suddenly proving to be conclusively lucrative that the allure oflurid lucre would lure some poor person so disillusioned by their unmitigated, grinding lot irf life into making happen one less useless poet dispensing careless karmic corruption.

Okay, maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was probably merely my usual midafternoon malaise.

I'd been doodling on a napkin all the while and now scrutinized my scribbling: A rectangle divided in two by a line containing a trapdoor. It was captioned, "Maxwell's monies." On both sides floated dollar signs. One side was labelled, "Clean, cold, hard cash." The other, "Dirty money." The dollar signs were indistinguishable from each other. If I gave some of one type and some of the other to a poor person, would they care if there was a difference?

There was sin in the world before the idea of currency was conceived and real ized. One of these sins is the attitude towards the poor that they are somehow less human as a result of their impoverishment, and are therefore less worthy of the consideration normally accorded to humans. Nothing could be further from the truth.

The truth is--as Mahatma Ghandi observed--that the mark of a civilization is in how it treats its most vulnerable peoples. Jesus the Christ said, "The poor will always be with us," and "Blessed be ye poor, for yours is the Kingdom of Heaven." Obviously, then, the respect of a civilization is pivotally defined by how it treats its poor.

By Rolf Auer

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Curtain Call

Sandra Pronteau Adrienne Mike

Review - "Who Stole the Spirit of the Carnegie - with a Christmas Twist" An original play by Jim Dewar and Adrienne Macallum, Performed on Christmas Eve 2015 This is the third performance of this funny and poignant play; which takes us through the various areas of the Carnegie; as our bumbling hero, Nick Grant, tries to solve his case. Judging by the reactions of the full house audience on Christmas Eve it was a hit!

Being a part of this play from the beginning; way back at the Heart of the City Festival in 2014, I can see how a play goes from the first rewrite into a final production. I learned about the power of community theatre in building connections and friendships. Everybody had tons of fun learning their lines and laughing their heads off at rehearsals.

The actors were not perfect in their lines but they knew how to improvise their scenes anyway and their confidence greatly improved through this process. They were projecting much better and most of them were totally off script this time. I give all the credit to Teresa Vandertuin; whose skill and people skills absolutely rocked throughout the process.

Thanks to all our wonderful And playing various roles: Livingstone, Brenda Prince, guest assistant director and

actors: Narrator: Roger Stewart, Nick Grant: Mike McNeely Joan Morelli, Martin Wong, Paul Decarie, Jim Dewar, Leith Harris, Bill Lim, Robyn JanTse, Gilles Cyrenne and me, Adrienne Macallum. Jean Phillippe Traore was our Mark Oakley helped out with tech.

I really hope we get a chance to put this play on again and get it better next time. Wf!:all had such an awesome time that we can't wait to do it again.

Mike McNeeley,Paul

Nossitti,Joan

Morelli

Jan Tse

Adrienne,

Jim,

Joan

Photos taken by Tom Quirk

The tao of touch What magic does touch create that we crave it so. That babies do not thrive without it. That the nurse who cuts tough nails and sands calluses on the elderly tells me sometimes men weep as she rubs lotion on their feet.

Yet the touch of a stranger the bumping or predatory thrust in the subway is like a slap.

We long for the familiar, the open palm of love, its tender fingers.

It is our hands that tamed cats into pets, not our food.

The widow looks in the mirror thinking, no one will ever touch me again, never. Not hold me.

Not caress the softness of my breasts, my inner thighs, the swell of my belly. Do I still live if no one knows my body?

We touch each other so many ways, in curiosity, in anger, . to command attention, to soothe, to quiet, to rouse, to cure.

Touch is our first language and often, our last as the breath ebbs and a hand closes our eyes.

Marge Piercy

Dear Editor; Here I go, into the fray - If you have a few minutes, I'll give you my two bits worth: abortion.

Everyone has their own unique view on this, as on every other issue. For the sake of simplicity we tend to see two camps: Anti-Abortion and Pro-Choice. The most important thing to know about this division is that they are not opposite. The two camps represent a collision of world-views far more than a difference of basic values. Maureen McCullough, in her recent letter, failed to see the very important distinction here.

Because as poor & working-class women we are very much at risk, much less supported & more controlled

by the decisions of government, medical, & religious institutions, it's vital to know who is on our side.

ANTI-ABORTION ' The Anti-Abortion stance comes out of the long, msogynist history of the Roman Catholic Church (& its offshoots), which has been around and otintluence longer than almost all of the national governments in the world today. The old premise was that women were "the root of all evil" (as the Churchmen had it in Malleus Malefecarum, "Hammer of Witches" 1500).

The Church and the governments it supported worked together to decimate the old native cultures of Europe - religious & otherwise. Sexism may be world-wide in some respects, but for mainstream Canadian culture its roots are this divide & conquer of the peoples of Europe to install not only the disorder of the Christian belief system but the underpinnings of capitalism and the whole "power-over" sickness - obedience to faceless authorities. While removing the local governing systems of the communities, the Church focused its dominating force on women, & whipped up a fury of distrust between the sexes & within these communities, to forestall a united front against the decimation of the native cultures. If you have any European blood in you at all, it is not too late to be enraged by what happened & continues to happen worldwide: the destroying of native eultures, theft and destruction of the lands & the installation of a reality which leads to despair, poverty, suicide, and endless interpersonal violence.

Only the fringes will say today that women are "the root of all evil". But they do say that in every instance women must be an open door for the potential of life to be made real: love of life, the right to life, is what they claim for every human being. Yet the whole world-view of the Christian and Christian-influenced is based on death; on distrust & dislike for this life & this body, with the hope that through stern obedience to a faceless & much-disputed authority, the next life will be better. The focus is not on the here & now, but some version of a patriarchal afterlife. The impulse to defend life doesn't extend nearly as loudly into the anti-nuclear, environmental, or anti-war/anti-imperialist movements, and yet these death-dealing forces are much more a threat to all present & future generations than is access to abortion. The impulse to promote life doesn't extend nearly as effectively to eliminating imprisonment; supporting the healing of those in pain

..

...

i (Whether

mentally, spiritually, or even physically; supportmg I) . . ...; t?e majority \the poor).& co~trollIng the mmonty (the, rich, the ownmg-class), sharing food, water and space. . . ... (land) globally, endmg racism; fostering a truly peace f I· I I& ldwid Th . , u co-existence at every eve wor WI e. at tsn t . .. what the anti abortionists are about, so they cannot b" I·c. " Th .

I . h I . c aim to e pro- he. ey are simp y agamst t e ex.

II f h f d I . ·1 . h te.nsion to a women 0 t at un amenta CIVI ng t: . freedom to govern herself, her life.

PRO-CHOICE: The anti-life attitudes that McCullough attributes to the feminists are indeed within the culture, but they are not at the core of feminist belief. I'm also aware that within Christianity there are many who are truly "pro-life" on all levels (but let them speak for themselves). The half-baked feminism displayed in feminist classics like The Female Eunuch (Germaine Greer) where a good deal of loathing is focused on the reality of woman's body, was & is the result of the internalized self-hate fostered in women through our lives in a woman-hating culture. Those of us who have grown up with the feminist movement (I was b. 1960) continue to be exposed to and formed by soft & hard core misogyny. By "soft" I mean that "God", the politicians and the business controllers are almost all men, and the role models for women have historically been erased from the books, so that we have Joan of Arc & the last Chinese Empress Dowager as the kind of uninviting possibilities to focus - or rather, to deflect our aspirations to greatness. "Hard" misogyny is sexual exploitation, intimidation and control of women's bodies, minds & lives- I'm talking rape, murder, pornography, child-theft; as well as the low-grade browbeating that many women are subjected to on a daily basis. Remember that this is our whole lives I'm talking about; these things don't start when we turn eight- , een. We live and breathe this culture from birth, and through our mothers' bodies from conception.

Feminism is, like all levels oflife, a dynamic changing thing. Class & race realities are very slowly, reluctantly and, through active struggle, being incorporated into what was for a long time a middle class white woman's game. Feminist mothers are in general too frigging busy raising our kids & making ends meet to be loudly vocal & at the forefront of feminist theorizing. But there are millions of us. We do cherish life, as Maureen McCullough has passionately shared.

or not she's a parent, the feeling's the same.) .

Id-vi that trul d nstrates this cherishRecreating a wor -view y emo ing means breaking through the indoctrination of self-Ioath. . . ituality that affi & I·S deeply con109, rediscovering a spm I mns ed with thi bod d thi I·Co It eans renovating all nect Wl s y, an s lie. m I· hi hat be I s whole and of our re anons ps so t we can ourse ve , , .. & str gth i ts over our rights not wastmg our tune en m argumen . & bel· Co At th t· that this inner our perceptions iers, e same une . tak I d th str gth . g of the constrengthenmg es p ace, an e en enm . be 1:1,. ded I at th mrnunity-level nections tween ike-rrun peop e e eo & worldwide, there is the other reality going on - the intimidations & rapes, the destruction of cultures & lands, the institutionalized racism, sexism, ageism, class-hatred. Only at the individual level can it be decided: if! have a kid now, I'll beat her or him to the brink of death, like my mother/father/ lover beat me; or, given the time & support, for healing: if! have a kid now, I can raise him or her to be a freedomfighter, to cherish this earth and her people, to start from the centre in a balanced way and promote life at every level.

Children learn far more from observation than by direct communication: you have to be able to be free and lifeaffirming at home, evenin your worst moments, if you want your kids to act that out on the streets, in future boardrooms (and bedrooms).

A pregnancy can be seen as a knock at the door, where the child might decide at any time not to come through after all (miscarriage, stillbirth, cribdeath). To be pro-choice means that a woman also has the right to choose: a few might lock the door forever (though hysterectomy is not under debate in the same way); many, many more will say, "I'm sorry, I just can't let you through right now. Things are very bad for me.

If you come back in a few years, I think I'll be ready." Or even, "Please. Ask somelxxly else."

If words & words only changed the world, all would already be well. Saying that men, the world, "must" change is not, sadly enough, entirely effective. We can influence others, but we can only change ourselves, & even that can be a long, long process. The argument that the fetus is "not human" is a legal argument, & it is the legal system itself which requires such twisting of the truth in order that a woman's right to choose can be entrenched in law.

Pro-choice balances the ideal & the real worlds. I wouldn't force anyone to have a kid. Nor would I forbid it. Having a child myself, at a point in my life where it is a safe and good choice for both of US, is one of the most cherished, dynamic, and "enriching" aspects of my life.

By JOANNE ARNOTT (Survivor, Mother, Pro-choice)

What scares Saint Minus the most is doing something extremely stupid that would deeply hurt all whom he holds dear, like a wind-up Donald Trump doll that spouts messages like 'Every child should feel privileged to build a wall across the US-Mexico border' the higher the tower the further away from the poor & the cowards' 'being rich is a choice so let the poor die' & other earthly delights from a man who was the model for the Mr. Yuck stickers a sick mind whose idol is George W Bush (this is as scary as scary can COLLABORATIVE be), or teaching future convicts how to build a good " life with their 20-to-life prison terms is this a great Renters' Rights Training world or what "How lovely it can be!!"

Saturday January 16, 11:30am Like understandings melting in the rain rising above rd on Carnegie's 3 floor. your head with a false ceiling of security to/too many TOPIC: How to take a landlord, .people playing god everything coming to you you've to housing Court! (RTB) _earned .. when you're dead you'll see, like one leopard Lunch & coffee provided ~ wearing a down-to-the-waist human-skin coat with matching gloves the animal called man does not need thumbs let alone hands because it is dead as 8 pints of liquid stain this planet every variety of this creature no matter the colour'age'size'alive & even most ofth dead ones bleed, like an episode of the Housewives of Iraq or even Majestic Egypt Saint Minus has had courtside seats to much injustice so much universal defeat like the cr~w of the Shoveboat shoving off & everyone else goes down with the ship (thank you) Now there may be a worse time for everything pull out the courage or a conscience you're either born with or THE BALLAD OF FATHER TIME you're as simple as right or wrong, like a kamikaze Countless Popes=Presidents=Prime Ministers* JBonds pilot's reunion party we have so many special guests Serial Killers *catastrophes & terrorist acts & such I like Robert Oppenheimer' Judy Jetson'that fisherman have lived to see, Saint Minus has been visited by hap Peter who became the pope' AtillaTheHun' John Lenpiness most negligent as pain'anxiety'loss'devastation non'Johnny Rotten'George Orwell'T.S.Eliot homelessnesspeople-selling & so many other afflicClifford Olson'Ronald Reagan'George Bush & sons' tions to maximum degrees, more structures with a the Partridge & Manson families'Cool Hand Luke billion nails go up as affordable housing is destroyed Skywalker'Marlon Brando'Dorian Grey'Edgar Alien What is it with mankind has it no feelings? can it not Poe'every Jane & John Doe'god &Jesus christ&all feel nor see? So many doorfront sleeping quarters am the rats&all the mice and the US/ISIL the scariest I the only saint that's .been there done what can be terrorist group in modern times - Saint Minus will be with no funds this is a true tragedy, confidence & not there to see the right people, get water while others caring run even down the slope of good intentions but get poisoned wine as both heaven & hell are overevil seems to get the most attention, like dumping raw crowded I shall implode at midnight say good-bye as sewage into the Saint Lawrence River we hear 0 these the US tries to squeeze in one more shooting party actions every single year, when loneliness depression some will still wait for their predetermined death, & human indifference are the traits that follow us like Like building Noah's Ark out of toothpicks or putting chains around our throats if help were there it would out an album of black box recordings now this is the be hard to hear, positive feelings melt like what's left true story of life & death I am running as fast as I can of Antarctic ice ...

DTES

-SRO

to catch my very last breath, with fists the size of suns he has watched each & every single soul begin & end so manyu deeds & proverbs undone his memory is longer than any disposable brain-tumour phone that's ringed its last rung another landfill stands as tall as tall can be, he knows that if darkness could open its eyes & see its large body the damage it could do to every living thing that has walked this rock & taken a breath of stale air but its eyes stay closed Father Time knows because he's been there every time for every timeline he has seen what there has been to see He knows full well that most of the people may have seen the world though the world has not seen them now that may sound rather harsh but the truth of any matter is the matter that hurts do not blame this simpleton's pen for it is not the fault of a weak link in an already weakened chain, the Atrocity Exhibition began long before anyone knows as the shortest year gets longer & the longest day gets shorter there was a time when Timex was indestructible but that was quite a while ago I think Father Time as off talking to the Sun about mother nature & her appetite for earthquakes'wildfires'neverending rains, his self-confience is second to none but when you are everything one can be to so many what can you do? I'm trying to nail the last spike in his coffin but he will outlive everyone who tries to bury him, like a happy hour gunshow in the States all rolled into one after they blow out all the candles the hand-held cannons will blow away all in attendance - could you do any better if you were him?

Like exhaust pipedreams or new monopoly pieces like safehouses or terrorist-held hotels he's seen all the heavens & all the hells including angels with 3rd_ degree bums & fa en angels dying of frostbite cut thisman 'who can only watch you help yourself some slack, he may have to watch our ugly antics & witness every mindless & evil act but we could show a little more class & try & build from every unpleasant fact We are talking aboutFather Time; instead of stabbing we could try slapping his never-ending back. We love you Father Time!

By ROBERT McGILLIVRA Y "Unfathomable sea, whose waves are years; oceans of tie, whose waters of deep woe are brackish with the salt of human tears."

-Shelley "The past cannot be cured!" -Queen Elizabeth of Motorhead.

fAKE FkiENOS

.4.RE om Y THERE WHEN THEY

NEED YOUI

fatherless children He called me Madonna, that Sicilian when I was almost 21 and a virgin After my Xmas party at the Commodore and I had had more drinks I was NOT Madonna dropped like a melting ice cream cone Santos appeared to comfort I went back to Halifax Larger but no wiser My son born late a big boy Dr. Reardon not pleased That old "horse doctor" aunt Maggie Jane called him.路 Growing up dear the Nova Scotian woods the boy often disappeared Until dark Preferring the company of nature to mine but not always Escaping from his restraints at 3 He joined our parties My friends horrified at my unnatural behavior His chubby little fingers adept at untying knots Once he escaped to the bowling alley only his diaper & T-shirt The police never ever found him He was never in the middle of Will et Street.

At fourteen he knocked on my door clutching his Snoopy quilt "I'm living with you now," he said And so he did Until he went joy-riding before he learned to drive The beat goes on

(to be cont.)

Wilhelmina

Original Airdate XI -A Soundtrack for Life Like god-fearing people devoting their entire lives to something they fear I'd much rather try to enjoy my short lifetime you are only bought into this world once that's been made clear there's enough evil without compounding it into more, like many kids I got called names & took a few punches but that was no big deal they are either dead or at least in prison now they know how being picked on feels but when I was 13 I heard a sound that knocked my consciousness to the floor, even though I was the only punk in my school taking pot shots became easier because now I knew they were the fools I was freak a piece f work who used nobody else's rules; I had seen a glimpse of the future & it was called Punk Rock the others could listen to their Boz Scaggs*Eagles*Supertramp*Bad Company*Foreigners & all that shit I was cranking up Sex Pistols*Buzz Cocks*David Bowie*X +C*Graham Parker*Siouxie & the Banshees*Magazine*Damned* Clash & so many other awesome sounds I drowned out the other bands this was finally IT I no longer took crap from all those other posers/losers/thug lites & fools, like the worms of endearment I saw crawling through all these other 9 to 5 lifers' eyes I learned how to play guitar & bass 1 could no longer sympathise Ijoined No Exit playing Seattle & Victoria ..well to me it was pretty cool I found true friendship sure there were-jerks but aren't there always a few? Playing so many halls backing up the Subhumans & DOA I got to know Joe Shithead, Wimpy, DaveGregg, Van Tiles, Simon Wilde & so many more backing up the Subhumans on their last show was an honour headlining over The Accused from Seattle in Victoria man did those 400 people roar but in 3 short years we were thru, when TSOL from LA couldn't get across the border to back up DOA we took their place & playing CapiJano College with a jazz fusion band was another night spent with my mind in outer space or playing a packed Smilin' Buddha was godlike to a 17-yearold who had a tab & peope saying good things about how I played but soon that part of life would come crashing down but life is all about crashing down, I met a lot of cool people played places I'd only heard of when you're not even twenty it's fucking great the lesson learned here is not to put all your broken eggs in one plastic bag & maybe most of all make the right mistakes cuz screwing up is life don't let life screw you once you know your rights from your lefts certain

uncertainties will not scrfew you into the abandoned refrigerator playground, Seeing our name up in lights over the Soft Rock Cafe on W 4th with Immoral Majority as support while getting joe & wife Cheryl on the guestlist was the least 1 could do every gig backing up DOA was always packed & almost always in the news but time is so evil so cruel did Jesus and his last Tupperware dinner party feel the way I did or do if only it were the clocks that were wrong, I never asked to outlive so many friends I think of death as the absolute perfection to life at its end but maybe another story ?efore I'm gone ...

By ROBERT

McGILLIVRA Y

DETERMINATION Ever been down 'n out, flat broke, busted & blue? . Howz about buskin' on a grimy street corner amidst pelting rain outside a second-rate liquor store in a high-rent district ~ome,,:,here due south of NoFimCity on a busted up guitar WIth worn out-o-tune strings (& one snaps of course) sitting on a slab of cardboard & strummin~ so~~ down home good old boys country tunes ... Singin somehow makes me feel a bit better for the time being; it ain't goin over quite as.well with the general public, who skitter by at a distan~e trying hard not to ~akf eye contact 'n acting like I might have something or just be contagious - weird or what.

Whatever.. time to move on, cap in hand, No way Not . me I've been down this road before, many times.

I may be cold wet hungry & directionless but I'm far from done. I'm still gonna line-up for handouts, whatever they are. If I don't like 'em I'll pass 'em on or throw it to the birds. More doors slammed in my ~eather-worn weary face but that's okay, 1 can stand It cuz I'm sure as heck used to it. Time keeps rollin' o~ but I got no time for standing around .. otherwise 1 might freeze to death (fat chance that's gonna happen!). I ust keep my motor runnin' hot like I'm on a mission to whoknowswhere but I can still see light at the end of a seemingly endless tunnel. I'm sure I'll hit the end of the line someday but I'm not discouraged _ there'~ no give-up in me: 'I know there's gold in them thar hI.lls/~a~leys al.ong with love, peace & happiness. ' The tnck IS m finding it. It's like a massive treasure h~nt & everybody is entitled to search on their own or WIth others. After all, what have you got to lose? I ask myself & say absolutely nothing!

ROBYN LlVINGSTONE.

~1'!ft

PLEASE WELCOME NICOLE BIRD! We'd like to introduce Nicole Bird, our new Community Activities Coordinator. She works on Tuesdays at the Park and also coordinates cultural sharing programs at the Camegie. Swing by and say hi to Nicole!

WINTER HOURS Tuesday to Saturday, 9:15am - 5:00pm PROGRAM UPDATES OPPEN ARTS STUDIO WORKSHOP THURSDAYS, 1O:30AM - IPM

Oppenheimer

Park NEWS FROM OPPENHEIMER

PARK

In January, we are making a kite! Design your own kite for decorative or recreational purposes. We will try to fly them on the final week in January.(!?!)

Brainstorm Meeting for the 9th Annual Oppenheimer Park Community Art Show THURSDAY, JANUARY 21 ST, 2:30PM - 4:30PM We will be brainstorming the title/theme for the 9th Annual Oppenheimer Park Community Art Show.

What do you feel like expressing? What is important in our community these days? The result of brainstorming sessions will be displayed at the HomeGround Festival 2016 where we will hold a public voting to narrow it down.

OTHER PROGRAMS BOARD GAMES TUESDAYS, 2PM - 4PM Chess, monopoly, crib ... Join us to play in our cozy activity room with a cup of hot chocolate.

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B 4 HUMAN BEINGS Before, 1 am white, red, yellow or black; I am a Human Being.

Before, I am child, youth, adult or senior; Iam a Human Being.

Before, Iam female, male, transgendered or agendered; I am a Human Being.

Before, Iam straight, gay, lesbian or bi; Iam a Human Being.

Before, Iam able, before I am unable; Iam a Human Being.

Before, any mental, spiritual, emotional or physical illness; Iam a Human Being.

Before, any mental, spiritual, emotional or material - lack or wealth; Iam a Human Being.

Before, Iam a consumer; Iam a Human Being.

Earth is the home of human beings - All Human Beings; Iam a Human Being.

Ihave a mind, Ihave a spirit, I have a heart, I have a body; Iam a Human Being.

Ican Be, for Human Dignity.

Ican Be, for Human Equality.

Come and enjoy beautifUl images From Ican Be, for Human Freedom.

Carnegie HiKers' Haven trips From Ican Be, for Human Love. r can Be, for Human Peace.

JUlY 201q.to November 2015.

Because, Iam a Human Being.

ICan Be - For All Human Beings.

Taken by hiker & artist Richard Tylman!

No less, No More.

2:00 PM fridaY, January 2016 BE!

zzoo,

MKGreen

Screen on 2nd floor Lounge

*Voices of the Corridors: Repression of the Self, Repression of a Movement, Oppression of a People* . Exhibition runs: January 8-Feb 21, 2016 In his writings regarding the residue of certain challenging experiences during his youth collective member Bruce Ray calls out the disabling powerof ageism and outlines how childhood traumas are connected to a subversion of curiosity and creativity later on in life.

This generous offering sets the tone for this year's collective show, ~ ices of the Corridors:

Repression of the Self, Repression of a Movement, Oppression of a People, a curated art exhibition in which collective members engage themes regarding contemporary disability and mental health activism by way of their diverse and politicized community-based art practices. With this timely exhibition, collective members present their creative work and criticism in response to their threatened habitat; the autonomous, collectively-held space of the artist-run centre, Gallery Gachet.

Precariously balanced in a neighbourhood undergoing advanced gentrification and predation, Gachet's gallery & studio space has emerged as a symbol of soli-

darity and resistance in the midst of the overwhelming social, cultural and political pressures of our seething metropolis. Embodying the spirit of the Mad Pride movement, which Gachet member Karen Ward says empowers its members to "talk back, fight back, make art" this exhibition reveals a resilient & thriving community that is kept in obscurity by forces that are out of its contro!'

It is a collective declaration in line with Gachet's overall mission to eliminate discrimination against people marginalized as a result of their mental health, trauma and/or abuse experiences.

Salon Shop . The Salon Shop is Gachet's micro-exhibition space & shop that features artwork of local community members, as well as Gachet volunteer, associate and collective members.

Currently featured are two of Gallery Gachet's most recent additions to our Collective core, Andy Morning Star and Stella Castel!.

We invite you to enjoy a sampling of their art and welcome them as Gallery Gachet Collective Members

February 3, 4 and 5

Sign

ypto Volunteer

The Aura of Her Wings Do you ever think about what it would be like to see yourself from another person's point of view? Would you see yourself as a creation of beauty? Or would you see yourself as a collection of flaws? It is difficult to imagine how other people see you. It might be easier to compare yourself to another living creature. To develop this idea further, think about where you would find yourself in your most natural environment. Many people find it hard to see themselves as others might see them because they live every single day picking at every flaw they can find and always trying to change themselves. But is changing really

~~~~~

.

When you approach me, you come across a tall First Nation lady with a skip to her step and a smile on her face disguised as a wall. You would see that she is the kind of girl to put a smile on anyone's face by simply flashing a smile, although she has yet to learn to love herself. A large amount of empathy creates a caring friend wanting the best for everyone else. She is filled with so much knowledge but why does she let herself fall? Is she too busy carrying sacks of garbage belonging to everyone she cares about as she dispossesses everyone's worries and pain but her own? Maybe she finds joy in seeing other people happy. Because every time she hears someone laugh and sees a wave of someone's aura beam around the room, she feels happy and warm inside. And every time she sees someone cry or suffering, she hurts inside and the thought of what other people go through is unbearable. She carries enough knowledge to know that when she falls down she can always pick herself up. She struggles in and out with addictions and seems to always be self destructive. She wants good but something inside is tying her down. Trauma is her enemy and she is constantly running from it. She gives into anything that makes her feel distance from the world because that second world in her mind feels safe and in her world she cannot be touched and as long as she can't feel she isn't afraid. In her mind she's fine but everyone who cares for her is begging her to realize that she is better than the drugs and better than the life she lives. She is capable of going far and living life to the fullest but once you taste escape it's a struggle to live without it.

What a butterfly this girl is. Her personality blossoms & floats around pollinating everyone's inner self, encouraging growth.

With the stages in her life she has been a caterpillar wanting to taste, touch and see everything not knowing that she is going to become a beautiful butterfly. She is currently staged as a cocoon. She rubs her wings in the cocoon because she needs the nutrients given. Everyone sees this as a struggle. As they try to help her break free, they have no idea that in all reality they are damaging her more than they are helping. Without the struggle she won't I~arn and if they break her free and she is not ready, she cannot fly. She does not know but one day she will break out an9 fly through life without the safety of her cocoon. She will succeed and although butterflies are known to not be able to fly when it rains, she will fly and yes her wings will become heavy but she will learn to stop, shake off the water and continue to fly breaking through the pain because it's just a little bit of water. Once broken free, she will no longer be scared. She will no longer be held back by the trauma because she'll be reborn.

Finding her is a task because she is stuck in another world in her head. If you want to find her, you may not find her somewhere you would like to see her. She stays places where her decisions are tempered with escapes from reality and what in her mind is living. The life of drugs isn't always her place of escape. From time to time she replaces her addictions from selfharming to something less damaging. She is currently stuck between drugs and rugby. You'll either find her stuck in the loop or hidden from everyone but her team. She's in love with rugby but it is hard for her to let go of the addictions. She knows the right side is rugby. But she has become so attached to substances that she feels anxious to the thought of cutting it out completely. She has gone a year without but during that time she lost herself in a pool of depression. A lot of her uses are her way of socializing. She is definitely a social butterfly. When at school it is not hard to find her. She is always socializing with everyone, floating from class to class and never hard to miss because when socializing, her true colours show. She is never affected by the dark moments because she picks up the vibes from everyone else. When she makes someone happy, she will be happy and if she makes someone hurt, she hurts with them. If you ever see this butterfly flying around town, know that she is not as bad as she looks and not as perfect as she seems. She struggles but one day she will succeed and grow her colours. She'll have a new view on life and ditch her addictions because the sun will shine on her wings and dry up the water.

It may scar but she will look at them as memories and a lesson showing her where she once was and that the pain wasn't all worth it. Her wings are her aura and they will shine bright red, green and indigo. That is the future I look forward to.

Nakol Qelhmin

FREE-

~

Carnegiec -iC(RfBWSLETTER 401 Main Slreel, Vancouver V6A ID

604-665-2289

THIS NEWSLEITER IS A PUBLICATION OF THE CARNEGIE COMMUNITY CENTRE ASSOCIATION Articles represent the views of individual contributors and not of the Association,

.' We acknowledge that Carnegie Community Centre, and :: this Newsletter, are occurring on Coast Salish Territory.

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"Never doubt that a small group ofthoughtful committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." -Margaret Meade

WANTED Artwork for the Camegie Newsletter •

• • • • • •

Small illustrations to accompany articles and poetry.

Cover art - Max size: 17cm(6 %')wide x 15cm(6')high.

Subject matter pertaining to issues relevant to the Downtown Eastside, but all work considered.

Black & White printing only., Size restrictions apply (Le. if your piece is too large, il will be reduced and/or cropped to fit).

All artists will receive credit for their work.

Originals will be returned to the artist after being copied for publication.

Remuneration: Carnegie Volunteer Tickets Please make submissions to Paul Taylor, Editor.

The editor can edit for clarity, format & brevity, but not at the expense of the writer's message.

Next issue: SUBMISSION

:.::.:..·;~~:~·:~~.":C'';;;::.·:':;':':::-:;:::.:::':·;·::-·;;··:;' .~--

Philippines Immigration Canada and Agency Officer Digna Y. de Castro ADMINISTRATOR

dignadecastro36@gmail.com 778.710.2489

WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUcn01'l • AIDS •

POVERTY

HOMELESSNESS VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN

DEADLINE

ABORIGiNAl GENOCIDE

THURSDAY,JANUARY2mh

•

·TOTAlITARIAN CAPlTAUSM IGNORANCE and SUSTAIMED FEAR

2016DONATIONS: Sheila 8,-$150 Robert McG,-$60 Elsie McG.-$100 In m,mory 01 Sarn Snobelen: Anonymous -$100 )

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