In another context

he might have been mistaken for

her grandson,

the strapping young detective

who testified

without a hint of shame –

at Betty Krawczyk’s trial.

He said he arrested Betty

and carried her to his car

from the road

where she was seated,

protecting an ancient forest

with her small body.

Like hers, his handsome face is

underscored by force of character

so that,

even from the gallery,

one is compelled by

a sense of his nature –

not unkind –

and the underlying spirit.

He said she was polite (of course)

and made a few points

from the back seat of his cruiser

to which (of course) he did not respond.

I can see her now,

explaining the justness of her cause

passionately, within a cosmic framework,

in her gentle Louisiana lilt,

on the off chance that her

captor might actually listen

and learn something.

Well, you never do know

till you try.

And then,

in a prescient moment,

might he have stopped the car,

unlocked the back door,

and unfastened her handcuffs?

And then, offering a hand to lean on,

helped her out?

Might he have kissed her cheek

with the caring of a disciple

or a grandson

and sent her on her way?

(from Wildflowers at my doorstep, Karma Press, 2008)

Betty Krawczyk has got to be a headache for the BC court system. No matter how many times they throw her in prison — eight times — she won’t stop fighting her cause through appeals and protest. And because her cause is pure-hearted environmentalism, and because she’s a stately 82 year-old great-grandmother with a razor-sharp mind and a star-studded social/political network that fills courtrooms, she just makes the system look…bad.

Wednesday, Betty was back at the Court of Appeal to argue that the ten month sentence she served in 2006-2007 for breaking a court injunction to protest the bulldozing of Eagleridge Bluffs to allow for the expansion of the Sea to Sky Highway was unjust. Acting in her own defense, she argued that the use of a summary trial – a truncated version of a trial — is a “foolproof method” for shutting down environmental activists, because it eclipses the possibility of a jury trial and the use of the Criminal Code or the Charter.

Betty is no anarchist, but a devotee of the law, despite the fact that the law does not seem to have served her in recent years.

“I actually respect the law more than most people do,” says Betty. “I was raised in Louisiana, where the Ku Klux Klan roamed the land, [and there was no law against it]. But the law has got to serve the people…who else is it going to serve?”

For an incisive look at the political angles of this story, see http://creekside1.blogspot.com/.

This morning

we’re going to talk about

impermanence.

We’ll begin with your

birth

and end with your

death.

And then we’ll cover

every moment

in between,

before,

and beyond.

Any questions?

Happy Autumn, dear reader! Autumn invariably seems to recall us to our childhoods and those late-summer days back at school. My father lectured for almost forty years at the University of Toronto, and as children, my sister and I were sometimes invited to sit in on his classes. We understood nothing of the theoretical physiology he was teaching, but enjoyed his jokes and the doting attention of his students (those sophisticated undergrads, who now appear so young!).

While I took a different path, I often think of my father when I’m standing at a lectern with a mic to read poetry. I try to remember the lessons he taught me by example, both in and out of his classroom, about how humour enlivens any endeavor. This lightly-intended piece on impermanence is my early September offering.