wind vs. hot air

Canadians are a conservative bunch when it comes to old transportation habits. LIke typical North Americans, they feel there is safety is the sheer size of a vehicle, not in superior design. The streets are filling with ever-larger vehicles which people complain about not being able to afford to operate and solutions are at hand, but people are afraid to take that necessary step on a large scale and downsize to what they actually need.

Vancouverites are particularly silly in this regard. Gas is at the prices it was in Europe in the 90s and people there were buying diesels and other more efficient vehicles left and right. This was when research into technology like fuel cells and hybrids really started to take off. Apparently Vancouverites lead Canada in walking, cycling and taking tranist to work, but we sure don't lead Europeans.

Smaller vehicles would make things less scary for light motorcycles and bicycles, not to mention pedestrians. It's a cascading effect that starts with individuals making more intelligent choices. How does our culture get the kick in it's collective ass it needs?

I read today that we lag sadly behind Europe in wind power. Reading that after hearing that there is a dam proposed in a beautiful whitewater canyon near Christina Lake that is a huge tourist attraction made me curse the short-sightedness of Canada. We have one of the greatest opportunities to harness windpower to meet our energy needs. Apparently BC hungers for more power. How about more efficient lighting systems? Then increased wind generation can meet our needs. Instead we look to the burning of more fossil fuels in the form of natural gas reserves. Again, the cheapest, most short-sighted and politically opportunistic choice.

This book is now in my sights: "There is a Season" by Patrick Lane. I've never really given him much of a read and even Larry Campbell recommends him. Strangely enough, my path has crossed his many a time, his sons are both cousins and university roommates of one of my oldest and closest friends; I attended a university where he taught and many of my fellow students worshipped the old bugger; I was part of an upstart student newspaper where the arts editor was named Patrick Lane (no relation) and Lane's ex-wife once stalked me to return to her a crappy old futon that her son had agreed to sell to me for a bargain price after she followed her precious sons from Vernon to Victoria. I eventually got tired of her angry messages and returned to sleeping on a mattress on the floor. How bohemian. All this and I never spent much time reading Patrick Lane's works. Funny when you become aware of someone through a lot of different angles than the ones that they are known for by most people. Gives you a different perspective on someone who is considered more or less a national hero.

Oh, and I'm going to borrow it from the library, rather than buy it.