Fire truck.

A day of sighs.

I was naively surprised yesterday to find out that a business in our parts employs temporary migrant labour for the busy growing season. Just as I’m always floored to see tractors driving by on our road with the machinery to spray Round Up on fields.

Haven’t we learned that spraying poison on our food is a really dumb idea? And that there’s something pretty dehumanizing about getting people to cross borders to do hard jobs and give them no safety, no rights, treat them like second class and then force them out when we no longer need their labour? What is wrong with us.

If I got one wish today it’d be to deeply embed in people the truth that the fact that we are born who we are is a total fluke. You could have been anyone. Born anywhere. Of any sex, any genders, any background. With papers, without. With recognized rights or without. Racialized or not. Upstream or down. Parents with jobs, with money, or without. With health care or without.

If our humanity can’t extend to Others, we’re just not going to make it.

The meeting to organize a sponsorship team of a refugee family went okay last night. I wish I knew more about the process, I wish the response didn’t need to be so individualized, so focused on finances. I wish the fact that we are in an election campaign meant that our government would change course and do what’s right and what’s just instead of sticking to its tired framing and its fear mongering.

And I wish people who weren’t interested in participating in this group I’m trying to set up would stop emailing me to vent their racist diatribes. Today’s was actually sent from a federal department employee email address which is doubly disheartening.

So after penning a letter, I did what any parent with a bit of time and cash would do and I went and bought my beautiful kid the second hand fire fighters hat that he’s been wanting (to replace the red basket we awkwardly put on our heads when we play fire truck). And the thought of his happy face is seeing me through this day.

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