Dawn-Louise McLeod OP Columnist The weather on BND (Buy Nothing Day) was a gift, a frolicking summer's day imported into fall, bypassing those stern grey days of rain. I emulated a technique used on film sets, taking my battered old laptop onto the sundeck and placing it in a recycling box, which I'd enshrouded in a black garbage bag. I call this setup “crap- top in a box” and it works, permitting me the luxury of bathing in warm rays and inhaling the spicy scent of decaying leaves. There I ruminated, on that sunny Friday, about how weird we humans are. We only value things that cost us. We spend the least amount of time doing the things that give us the most pleasure. Sex is a pretty good example of this, since it usually takes just a few minutes. And we appreciate what we have only when we lose it, or are in danger of losing it. And I thought about the end of term (one-and-a-half assignments left to go), and how Christmas comes on like a freight train, passing more frequently with the years. I both anticipate and dread its passage, because it marks my own passage along a timeline, and forces the compari- son of my pedestrian progress towards my goals against that timeline. And Christmas is when I contemplate both what those goals are and how far | am from them. I considered how apt it is to begin the holidays with BND—to reflect upon what truly gives us comfort and joy, and what we can live without. With the approach of Christmas and a break from Science Matters Ban Single-hutled Tankers Now FLUC SUZUKI our usual routine, we can afford the time to sum up what we have achieved during the year. But this summing-up process can be obscured by the frenzied spending that characterizes the winter holiday season, as we try to escape this reckoning through lavish adornments of self and surround- ings, and with indulgent celebrations. Yet perhaps one of the questions we need to stop -and ask ourselves is, “What have I done with my life?” Probably for most of us, and certainly for me, the answer is “Not much.” However, we can only truly celebrate if we feel we have earned it. If we have goals that are still no more than dreams, or if we are miserable with our lives for whatever reason, we haven't much cause to cele- brate. So what can we do? We can avoid the topic and pretend it doesn't exist. We can ignore it by focusing on consumption. Or we can blame the circumstances of our lives, or the limitations of our brains and our bank accounts. But blaming can take energy away from purposeful movement. Blaming external sources detracts from using our inner resources, which are avail- able to us at 100 percent off the retail value. To me, it makes more sense to sim- ply accept what is and get on with doing what we need to. As a kid, I felt like there was no life after Christmas—that nothing exciting would ever happen again. Now, having learned that acquisition is always unsatisfactory, and that time and good health are more Singapore. Let me get this straight. The Prestige, that flimsy, single- hulled tanker that recently sank off the coast of Spain, was built in Japan, registered in the Bahamas, owned by a Liberian company based in Greece, chartered by a Russian company based in Switzerland, last inspected in Dubai and carrying a load of Russian fuel oil to Ahh, the wonders of globalization. The Prestige gets away with this ridiculous pedigree because it is profitable to do so. In spite of public demand, aging single-hulled tankers still commonly ply the oceans. Our reliance on oil to power our energy needs fuels the demand and an economic system that puts dollars above all else takes care of the rest. It’s not like we didn’t see this coming. The public has been acutely aware of the dangers of single-hulled oil tankers ever since the 1989 sinking of the Exxon Valdez off the Alaskan coast. Although that spill was far from the largest in history, it had one of the biggest impacts. valuable than money, Christmas is a con- templative time when I indulge vicarious- ly through my own and other children and enjoy the company of my family and friends. Instead of focusing on presents for myself, I prefer to enjoy my kids’ delight—however short-lived—at getting some object they have longed for. This doesn’t mean that I go out and spend tons of money—I’m not one of those madcap parents who, a few years ago, paid outra- geous amounts for Tickle Me Elmo. But I am not about to force my own reflective state of mind on my kids, and will con- tinue to put treats out for Santa. I’m not a stellar example of a consumer to begin with—I drive a beat-up van, and I’m not stylin’. I can’t afford to buy any CDs, books, or clothes that aren’t from a thrift store. This isn’t only because I am an impoverished student—it’s because | fail to understand the appeal of owning things I don’t have the time to appreciate, or of having things that are like what everyone else has and don’t say anything about me except that I need to appear in sync. Besides, having a lot of things is hard work. As the Stones say, “Carrying money is a full-time job/I don’t need the aggrava- tion, I’m a lazy slob.” My motivation in returning to school was not to get a high- paying job, for example, but to learn the skills I need to forge a new life for my chil- dren and myself. I do not think money is evil, nor do I bemoan its necessity, but having money does not automatically resolve problems. ie Knowledge—more specifically, the a cation of knowledge—does. This year I'll celebrate the approac passing of Christmas by doing activities with my kids, making and ing gifts, and literally decorating boughs of holly, thanks to the abu tree in my own yard. I'll take pleas the comforts of reading for hours, si in the sunshine, and writing about ever I want. And this year I have an 3 tional reason to celebrate—I now only one full-time semester left b graduation. I must admit, that in the year-and-a-half I have advanced alon line towards my goals, albeit fractior thanks to the constant writing because of school and the Other Pr« may not always be writing “creati but I am always writing. And tho suspect that few actually read my col or anything else I write, that doesn’t 4 er me. Most of what I’ve ever writte nt been read by anyone, either. In a way, BND is the non-denon tional, neutral, seasonal celebratio accepting who and where we are about summing up all our resources $ can go forward and meet the freight head-on knowing that, even if it dd stop, it will at least slow down enoug allow us to clamber aboard. Have a wonderful holiday, and may journey be joyous. iconoclastcom@yahoo.ca According to the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill Trustee Co the disaster is estimated to have killed some 250 seabirds, 2,800 sea otters, 300 harbour seals, up t killer whales, and billions of salmon and herring Thirteen years after the spill, many species—incl the common loon, several species of cormorant anq harbour seal—show little or no signs of recovery. Public outcry after Valdez resulted in a promise to to double-hulled tankers. Unfortunately, that shi been horribly slow to materialize. There are nearly oil tankers roaming the seas, about half of which ar same type of single-hulled disaster-in-waiting ag Prestige was before it broke up and plunged three metres below the surface of the Atlantic. To make matters worse, thousands of these shi “flags of convenience” from nations like the Baha Liberia and Malta—countries that have minimal s labour and inspection regulations. Many have been q tened “environmental time bombs,” but they still continued on © page 6