Sunday, May 11, 2008

Mother's Day tribute

Mother’s Day 2008


I’m within two months of my departure on my 6th Compassion for Animals Road Expedition (CARE-6), which will cover 6 Canadian provinces and 24 U.S. states in four months. I’m beginning to feel anxious, not particularly because of the 30,000 km ahead, nor the arduous schedule to keep, nor the enemies I’ll surely be making at the Alberta tar sands, but that I’ll have to leave my mother behind.

My mother was born in 1919, so she’s 89. She’s very feeble. She used to be 5’3”, now she’s 4’6”, and hunchbacked, and so fragile that I’m sure one small fall and she’d disintegrate like a delicate Chinese porcelain vase. She has no life-threatening disease, but is on 6 or 7 different drugs administered at the Lakeview Care Centre where she is being cared for by a competent and compassionate staff. Just last week, I asked the nurse, “Just out of curiosity, what would happen if the drugs are suddenly withdrawn?” She said, “Her body would probably stop functioning.” And her memory is dimming. She could tell me about her childhood in great detail, but just last month, she called me asking me why I hadn’t seen her for so long, on the same day I had taken her out to lunch.

I’ve taken five of these long tours, the longest one covering 42 states in 7 months. Every time when I drove away from Vancouver, the thought would cross my mind that I might have seen my mother for the last time in my life. Yet, every time, she was always there to welcome me back. And again, I’m beginning to wonder. I hate the feeling, but am haunted by it.

When I go on the road, I try to call her once every day or two, from city to city. And I send her some of the photos I’ve taken along the way, and pictures from the Animal Rights Conference. When I come back, I would see the pictures displayed proudly all over her room.

The staff at the care centre loves her, because she is easy going and always smiling at them, and would share some of the goodies my brother Matthew would bring her upon his visits. But she has her moods, and has the propensity to need to worry about something just to be sane. And I’m the person she chooses to unload her woes to. This is one of the toughest things I have to deal with. As an activist I’ve spend my life getting rid of my own fears, until some have called me “fearless”, but she unloads her fears on to me, and I’m obligated to bear them. I hate the feeling, especially if I have to do something I consider totally unnecessary, just so that I could restore her serenity, but again, am haunted by it. I’m not sure that she realizes what effect this has on me, and from my point of view at lease, sometimes she seems profoundly selfish.

On the other hand, she could be very considerate of my feelings. This is more on the conscious level than when she delves into her “selfishness”. Back in 1999, when I went to India for the third time to help save the Bengal tiger from extinction, my sister had a terrible traffic accident which resulted in severe brain injury. This happened within the first week of my 10-week stay at the Kanha and Bandhavgarh tiger reserves (see my book Omni-Science and the Human Destiny – www.HOPE-CARE.org). When I called my mother during my first resupply trip to town, she did not say a word about it. Afterwards, I asked her why and she said, “I didn’t want to burden you with something you can’t do anything about.”

Although I know she would love to keep me by her side all the time, she never once tried to deter me from going on tour, or even guilt-trip me. She always says that she would pray for my safety and success. But the way she asks me how long I would be away for, and the way she looks at me when she says it, breaks my heart every time.

On June 30, I’ll be driving from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Fort McMurray, Alberta, the town where the tar sands workers live. The last thing I’ll do in Vancouver will be to say goodbye to my mother. I look forward to the amazingly scenic drive, but I dread the departure because of this good bye. And the inevitable question: “Will I see her again?”

She was born the only child of my maternal grand parents in a small town in the Guang Dong province of China, but had over a dozen cousins, all living in the same extended family complex walled with dragon-back tiles. They had an inland aquaculture business, a river-barge transportation system, and my maternal great grand father was the founder and president of a local bank. They were supposed to be the top-wealth family in town.

Deep-Tsui (Butterfly Green) was free spirited and loved to laugh, and well loved by all. So, when the Japanese invaded China in 1937, when she was 18, her world crashed into chaos and danger. Village after village was leveled, and villagers tortured and slaughtered. The Great Nanking Massacre continued for days. The Yangtze River ran red with the blood of 100,000 civilians. One of the first things the invaders wanted were “comfort women” (sex slaves). My mother almost became one, and if she did become one, I wouldn’t be here to write about it.

In 1945, the Japanese were defeated, and life returned to normal for the next several years, until 1949 came around, when the Communists swept China. My father was an official in the old government, so we packed up and escaped by moonlight down the Pearl River to Hong Kong as refugees. Since my family’s wealth was tied up in real estate, and since we couldn’t take it with us, the prince (me) became a pauper overnight.

Due to the vast amounts of refugees pouring from China into the postage-stamped sized British colony, accommodation as at a premium. Our family of ten (my parents, my two siblings, my two ants and their respective spouses, my paternal grandmother and me) had to be cramped into 3-bedroom apartment in decrepit Temple Street.

Jobs too were at a premium, and, with my father’s university education, but without any knowledge of English – the official language – all my father could find was a sales and bookkeeper’s position in a textile factory. He was paid peanuts, and had only two-days off per year: Chinese New Year’s Day, and Christmas Day – the bloodsucking proprietor being a Christian. For the other 363 days, he worked easily 12 hours a day. I hardly got to see him, except early in the morning when he was on his way to work and I was on my way to school. I was usually already asleep by the time he finally arrived home from work.

Even working as he did, he still couldn’t bring in enough to keep us fed and educated, so my mother also went to work at the factory, as a sewing machine operator, though she would not work in the evening due to her children being home. They have talked, more like fantasized, about starting a textile factory of their own, but they have always stayed with that small piece of security they had at the sweat shop. It was first and foremost for their three children. They have sacrificed their ambitions for their children’s education and future.

The proof is ample. As soon as my youngest sibling had gone on to university, my parents quit their jobs without regret, and started their own factory, which was not a sweat shop. A side twist. The bloodsucker contacted all his clients to boycott my parents’ products. And a bit of karma. His business eventually went into bankruptcy.

When they were finally ready to retire, they sold their factory and immigrated to Vancouver to join me and my brother. In 1999, my father was 87, and he said he might not live to see the new millennium. He did see it, but not for only 7 months. My mother used to say that she dreaded my father dying more than herself dying, which was a great weight on my shoulders at that time, but she survived his passing in surprising good spirit, and showed an independence surpassing my expectations. Unfortunately, she herself has declined in condition until now, she can hardly walk without assistance. I see her about twice weekly usually taking her out to lunch or dinner, and for both her and me, it was a chore. But we always enjoyed the dinner with a smile.

Back to now, I’m within two months for another 4-5 month away from her. Will this coming one be our final farewell? I’ll say that goodbye when I come to it. Meanwhile, I have another mother to serve - Mother Earth, who will survive me, I hope.

She has given birth to our species Homo sapiens, but not only have we milked her dry, we are desecrating her with every move we make, and choking the life out of her with our own extravagance, and destroying her future with our myopia, and robbing her beauty with our greed.

When I was saying goodbye to my mother while departing only CARE-5 last year, she asked me, “Why you?” I asked her back, “To be your son? Or to serve Mother Earth?” And she said, “I’ll pray for your safety and your success.” She will say the same to me on June 30 this year, fully knowing that she may not see me again.

On this Mother’s Day, I express my love and admiration for all the wonderful mothers I’ve had the privilege to know – Amy Burns (WI), Barbara Metzler (NJ), Betty Burns (WI), Brenda Davis (BC), Carol Barnett (NY), Coby Siegenthaler (CA), Doris Lin (NJ), Janice Pennington (MB), Jennifer Grill (MD), Lane Ferrante (OH), Sharon Christman (VA), Sinikka Crosland (BC), Taina Ketola (BC),

and all those I have not.

I share my deep concerns about human overpopulation, but these are the women who bring forth the absolute best humanity has to offer, and our future needs and depends on the leadership of their children.

Finally, I ask all to do this one thing for our common Mother Earth. Please

  • sign the following petition urging the U.N. Secretary General to orchestrate the creation of a $120 billion/year Global Green Fund by a corresponding reduction of 10% of the world military expenditure
  • add a strong comment worth a thousand signatures and
  • pass it on far and wide

Go to: [ http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/to-UN-secretary-general-for-creating-the-120-byr-global-green-fund-for-combatting-global-warming-and ]

Happy Mother’s Day!

Anthony Marr, founder and president

Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)

Compassion for Animals Road Expeditions (CARE)

Global Emergency Operation (GEO)

www.HOPE-CARE.org

www.myspace.com/AnthonyMarr

www.ARConference.org

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