Stop Signs and Literacy

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It should be quite simple. The big red octagon with the four large white letters spelling S-T-O-P. Even for a driver with severe dyslexia, the visual clue alone should do the trick. When we get our driver’s licence we are all taught to come to a full, complete stop at that Big Red 8 sided Sign. We are taught to stop completely being able to fully see the stop line, to  check left, right, left again for vehicles, and to scan for pedestrians before proceeding.

We are also taught that failure to stop completely, if observed by an attentive police officer, is worthy of a $110.00 fine and 3 demerit points. A reasonable deterrent considering we are now sharing the roads with 10 year olds cruising on electric scooters at 25 klicks. We will discuss Parental Literacy in another post. Back to Stop Sign literacy. If we can’t stop at a Stop sign properly, we should turn in our car keys.

First, there is no such thing as a “rolling stop” often used as an excuse by illiterate drivers in a hurry. Still the same fine for failing to come to a full, complete STOP at the big red sign. Having pulled bodies from cars at the scenes of failure to stop fully completely, I have absolutely no patience with people who fail to stop in my child filled neighbourhood in Bolton.

Let me recount a recent incident with a resident driver who I will refer to as Simple Simon. I was just leaving my local Fortinos the other evening, when a vehicle cruised right through the stop sign at the street I was about to enter. I slammed on my brakes and hit the horn. I was fearful that their brakes had failed. The vehicle turned right, right down my street and sped away, As it did so, the male driver waved to me to follow. It was then I noticed he had a birth defect, only one finger on his hand.

Fearful for his safety I followed him home to advise him of my concern. His family must also have been concerned, because they all came out to greet me when I pulled up beside his home. I noticed that they also had the same genetic disposition to only having one finger on their right hands, which they proudly displayed. When I explained that I was concerned that the vehicle’s brakes had failed and I wanted to make sure the driver got home safely, I was told to pleasure myself. It was then that I realized the whole family was illiterate. I also noticed that they were all heavily tattooed.

Ah, perhaps new immigrants from the indigenous population of New Zealand. Although they looked a lot like the cast from Sons of Anarchy. I should have been more sensitive. Special needs and adjusting to our North American customs.

I wished them a nice day, and drove off as hey all rushed out into the street and saluted me as best they could with only one finger. I drove home slowly, realizing that we must do more to educate new immigrants to our driving rules that keep our communities safe. But also recognizing the reality that if you are illiterate, perhaps you shouldn’t be given a driver’s licence. The way I see it.

The First Time

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On the weekend of August 8, 2026, I had the pleasure of introducing thirteen children to their first overnight camping experience.  It took place at Quarry Lake near Caledon Village. It was their first time overnight away from home, their first campfire under the stars, their first sunset and sunrise ceremonies. And it was perfect.

It all began when I took out a Dog Park membership at the Canadian Cross-training Club run by former Olympic coach Barrie Shepley. Thanks to the foresight of the James Dick family to share in his vision, Barrie established a successful private beach park on their spring fed Quarry Lake near Caledon Village. The south east side of this area is still a working gravel business, but it only compliments the beauty of the C3 site. Barrie’s wife, the late Caron Shepley, had dedicated a section of the beach as a fenced off dog park and that was the only section of the property that I knew.

My dog, Chase, refers to it as the Dog Beach Spaw, but to me it was a touch of paradise in the middle of Caledon. If you stand on the high point of the dog park outside the beach area and look North West, you could easily be in a Muskoka resort. During the day, the human beach area is filled with families playing, marathon swimmers training, and paddle boarders cruising the far shores. Beyond that are the forest trails used by walkers, runners and bikers. In the distance is a clear view of a meadow just begging for a tent and a campfire.

I had worked with Barrie in a previous life, and he was well aware of my background as an outdoor educator. He approached me one morning as we were exercising our Border Collies at the Beach Spaw and he said, “Hey Skid, you know we run a children’s Day Camp here, and a number of the families who can’t afford to send their kids to an overnight residential camp would love to give their children that opportunity. Do you think we could do an overnight camping program here?”

The gauntlet was thrown, picked up with joy, and I spent the next three weeks chain sawing, whipper snipping, and clearing debris to help his landscaping staff create a campsite clearing and a forest dining hall. Canadian Tire in Bolton gave us financial assistance in purchasing the tents, sleeping bags and sleeping pads necessary for the overnight. During that time Barrie had put out the call to his members and day camp crew  with an invitation to be part of a first ever away from home Inaugural C3 Quarry Lake Overnight Camping Program.

During the program preparation process, a friend asked me, “Doesn’t it bother you having the gravel pit operating across the lake?” I simply said, “How did we drive here? on roads built with that gravel. Where do we live? In homes built with cement and stone. Where do  you think it comes from? This Quarry Lake site is a testament to the wise use of resources and the foresight to create a local natural treasure. The best of both worlds,” But would it work as an overnight campsite given the closeness of main thoroughfares and big cities to the south?

We made it clear to parents and children that this was a test case, a trial run to see if the site was suitable for overnight camping. We also made it clear that the challenges we gave to the campers like to build their shelters (put up new tents), and cook food (getting a campfire going to roast their S’mores) were up to them to solve. It was my intention to nurture independence, and take them outside their comfort zones by removing the eternal parental helping hand.

Fifteen campers applied. Two left early due to family commitments, but my “Baker’s Dozen” survived the challenges to complete an amazing overnight adventure. The campers had hot, humid summer weather, a tough time setting up the tents, sudden microbursts of rain, strong winds, and wet tents and gear. But they persevered, dried out, trimmed the tents, and ended up with a secure campsite.

At one point, one of the tent groups sat down in frustration, looked at their floppy tent, and asked me, “Where are we going to sleep tonight?” I pointed to their tent and said , “There. Three times the other tent groups offered you help. Do you want their help, or do you want to sleep in that tent?” They finally asked for help and the campers worked together to fix the tent. No adults involved. Mission accomplished.

These children got to experience their first overnight away from home, watched the sunset as a community, lit their first campfire, listened to ancient stories, stargazed, went for a late night swim, and slept, safe and warm, in the shelters they had created. In the morning they awakened before dawn, came to the campfire circle at the point by the lake and experienced the most brilliant sunrise I have ever seen.

After morning breakfast, the team cleaned up, packed out their gear, and got in a little more beach time. Family arrived at noon to pick them up. The feedback from parents and the campers was overwhelmingly positive and humbling. We set out to enrich young lives with a meaningful first time overnight camping experience. And we did it right here in Caledon.

Special thanks to our wonderful overnight female staff and lifeguard Louise, and our intrepid reporter Kathryn for their commitment to the project. And for Barrie and Caron, your dream will never end. The way I see it.

***

Go to the C3 online site for photos and aerial videos.

The Cure for Madness

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Dear Reader,

Apologies for the lengthy absence, but I was pursuing a quest for behaviours that would help us be human in this age of madness. I discovered one yesterday that we should consider putting at the top of our list. Using humour to defuse madness.

CURT 500 lb. Capacity 50 in. x 30 in. Aluminum Hitch Cargo Carrier for 2 in. Receiver 18112 - The Home DepotThe learning moment took place in the Fortino’s parking lot, Bolton, ON after an early morning shopping this August. As I was about to load groceries into my car, a truck pulled in beside me with a unique loading tray plugged into its hitch. I had been looking for something to help me carry  landscaping equipment.

I courteously complimented the driver on this ingenious rig, and he proceeded to share a full explanation of where I could find one at the local Princess Auto or online. He then began to sidetrack into an anti-police rant about being stopped constantly because the loaded tray covered his back licence plate. He said he tried to move his front licence plate to a temporary location on his back hatch, but then got hassled by the police because it’s the law to have a front plate in Ontario, but not Quebec. He was getting worked up. I couldn’t tell if he was angry at the police or Quebec.

Just at that point a driver sped through the parking lot and we joined in expressing common concern for discourteous drivers. He explained that this bad behaviour was caused by people who had no respect for the law, no common sense. I then made a comment that changed the course of our social intercourse. I said, “And that kind of behaviour has been legitimized by the totally disrespectful and discourteous behaviour of supposed leaders in society – like that one south of our border.”

My new acquaintance went cold. “Who do you mean?” he asked, “Not President Trump.” I should have picked up on his defensive tone then, but I was lulled by our trailer hitch moment. “Of course Mr. Trump,” I responded. “He’s a felon, a cheat, and a liar, and has made American Republican leadership the joke of the world.”

My companion’s face flushed vivid red. He shouted at me, “President Trump is the GREATEST President that has ever lived!” He then proceeded to deliver a lecture on the Great Man’s accomplishments, his depth of knowledge on all things – the economy, the military, history, science, and religion. “And I have scientific proof that President Trump is the smartest man in the world!”

I started to smile broadly. “Wow! Well we must be reading different scientific journals,” I chuckled, thinking he was joking. “This is fabulous! You could be doing open mike comedy nights and make a fortune. People need to have a good laugh in these days of MAGA Madness. There’s nothing like good old Canadian satire.” I smiled at him. He did not smile back, holding tight to his comedic serious face.

I thought I was enriching his comedy routine when I added, “Wait, wait. You could really get the audience going if you told them you got all your political views and scientific facts from Rebel News and the Toronto Sun, and Fox & Friends! You’ll have standing room only!”

“This is not funny!” he shouted. “This is serious!” I thought he was still in comedy mode. I looked at him and burst out laughing, “You’re darn right it’s serious! Just imagine what this malignant, moronic narcissist could do if he were really a king.”

My short-lived companion in conversation stopped completely, his face hardening. I suddenly realized he was being serious. I realized my language had both challenged his synaptic connections and alternative truth belief system. I had encountered a true Maple MAGA.

“President Trump is a GREAT, WISE LEADER. Not like those stupid Liberal socialists who have ruined our country!” He continued with a rant worthy of Sean Hannity, condemning the policies of every Liberal leader from Pearson to Carney, closing with a few obscene jabs at people who had gone to university for higher education. He felt that well-educated liberal thinkers all acted “holier than thou” as if they were better than everyone else. Then he closed with a quote from the Bible, as if that would prove the divine omnipotence of his beliefs.

I couldn’t resist. “Wait,” I asked, “is that a quote from the Bible that Trump has never read, you know, the one he wouldn’t place his hand on during his 2025 inauguration? Or is it from the official gold embossed Trump Bible he had printed recently in China?”

“Go fuck yourself!” my trailer man shouted.

I responded politely. “Well, I’d suggest you do the same, but you probably wouldn’t find it very satisfying.” He puzzled over that, as I, still smiling calmly, drove away. I chuckled as I saw him give me the Proctologist’s Salute through my side view mirror. He’d finally got the joke.

The cure for madness is laughter. Maintaining one’s sense of humour and calm in the face of blind faith and fanatical zeal is a wonderful antidote. The way I see it.

Skid Crease, Caledon

 

 

 

 

 

Bill 100’s STRONG CHAIR Powers

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Danger, Will Robinson! I have your Robot! - dplivingston.com “Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!” Fans of the 1960’s sci-fi TV show Lost in Space will instantly recognize those words of warning issued by Robot to protect young Will Robinson. In 2026 , Robot would be blasting out that warning to a new generation of Ontarians as the Ford Conservative manic majority government pushes through Bill 100, the Better Regional Governance Act, 2026.

For an extra dose of danger, couple Bill 100 with Bill 97, Plan to Protect Ontario (Budget Measures) Act, which was just pushed closer to passing in a rare late night meeting of our provincial government. Bill 97 would amend the Freedom of Information Act, restrict public access to information and “explicitly excludes records held by the Premier, Cabinet Ministers, and their political staff.”

Doubling down on danger, Will Robinson!

This attitude has infected municipal politics as well. Claire Ayigh, my research assistant, has noted. “Reports have highlighted that ‘misinformation’ and ‘confidential’ complaints are being used to shut down debate and prevent public scrutiny on key issues, such as land-use planning and legal proceedings.

Consider that the recently passed Bill 97 applies retroactively for 40 years! That mean  the office and phone records of Premiers and cabinet ministers shrouded in secrecy for decades, effectively keeping the Mike Harris reign of terror years under wraps. Birds of a feather lie, steal and cheat together. “Hey Mike, what happened to those Ipperwash, Dudley George murder, Municipal health care budget cuts and Walkerton death files?” “Gee whiz Doug, I guess we’ll never know now.” Hearty old boys’ club laughter.

The beat goes on. Yesterday, when I asked my research assistant who would most likely be the government appointed new Chair for the Region of Peel, this is the answer I received:
[Minister of Municipal Affairs and Housing] Rob Flack is anticipated to appoint [Strong Mayor Annette] Groves as the new Chair of Peel. This aligns with the [Conservative Ford] government’s strategy to streamline regional governance and enhance decision making efficiency.”

That statement is possibly an AI error in accessing questionable sources, but it sure fits Bill 100. If it comes true, Robot’s warning may already be too late. The way I see it.

***

NOTE: At the private Annette Groves Community Fundraising Gala (NOT a Mayor’s event sanctioned by the Town of Caledon) held yesterday, Premier Ford announced that current Chair Nando Iannicca would likely be nominated to retain his position. This choice had been indicated previously by the now disgraced former Municipal Affairs Minister, Steve Clark, Ford’s scapegoat for the Greenbelt Scandal that opened up previously protected lands to favoured developers.

UPDATE: Breaking on Facebook: Annette Groves has announced her retirement as Mayor of Caledon. Stay tuned for verification and commentary. And don’t trust AI.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

National Poetry Month

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As T.S. Elliot wrote in his epic poem The Wasteland, “April is the cruelest month of all.”

How to Plant in a Muddy Spot

If you are a devote Christian, that poetic line could refer to the crucifixion and death of Jesus Christ, religiously estimated to be sometime in April between 30 and 33 CE. Or it could refer to a delusional President Trump posting images of himself as Dr. Jesus. If you are Canadian, the line definitely refers to the weather. If you are a member of the Conservative Party of Canada, it painfully refers to Monday, April 14, 2026.  To honour that day, the following poems … starting with a Limerick

There once was a Con named Pierre
Who was so puffed up with hot air
He floated away on Majority Day
“Unfair! Cons care” cried Pierre.

One by one the Cons crossed the floor
To sit down at Carney’s front door
In the Liberal tent, they could do more than vent
Those three word rhymes we abhor.

Puffy Pierre just floated away
And hasn’t been seen since that day
But his voice can be heard, still sounding absurd
“Axe the Tax”, “Jail not Bail”, Crime Don’t Pay!

And of course, every struggling English student’s favourite, the more sublime Haiku:

A bright flash of red
A song high from the tree top
The promise of spring.

And for the classicist, a Shakespearean Sonnet:

Is this the way the world will always turn?
From lightness to dark, from darkness to day.
After the ice time, the fire we yearn
After the war work, in peace will we play?
Who will we follow, the wise or the fools,
Who will inform us, humans or machines?
Will we home learn, or in corporate schools?
Will we have teachers or computer screens?
If the world needs changing it starts with “we”,
We need to rise up, and not break or bow,
“If not us, who; if not now, when?” we plea.
it must be us, and it must be us now!
The torch has been passed, we hold it up high
Hope in the darkness, a light to live by.

That’s all for now, but during International Womens’ Week I heard a song that stuck like an ear worm in my mind. The Celtic tune remains, and the lyrics ended something like this:

“You’ve tried to break me but I have a choice,
I’ll not bow my head, I’ll not  bend my knee,
And I will not lower my voice.”

A noble torch to carry in these chaotic days. The way I see it.