THE ART OF AGING – Part IX: Sometimes I Feel Sorry for God

Norwegian Sculptor Gustav Vigeland, Vigeland Park, Oslo, Norway

The Covid-19 pandemic is exposing our beliefs, wants, demands, and intolerances. One year in, and it becomes clear what we truly do value, what we focus on. For some, social contact appears to be the ultimate of their survival, as expressed via zealous social media posts and banned group gatherings.

This brings our attention to religious leaders such as Pastor Coates of Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, and to his congregants and their ilk. I hesitate to include Coates as part of this discussion, should it fan his notoriety which, I speculate, he is enjoying at the moment. However, his story is trending, so worthy of a poke or two. . .

. . . One poke being that which jars me to say that I sometimes feel sorry for God! Religious beliefs have caused uprisings for as long as humankind has existed. It directs our behaviours, both moral and not, both personal and communal. It starts wars, and it heals. Our various approaches to religion and its multifaceted nature is why I think God’s head is shaking when looking at the marvel of creation and how we continue to destroy it.

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The Theft of Baby Ily

A Short Story Inspired by True Events


The wooden docks at the port of Halifax, Nova Scotia, are saturated with the tears and footprints of immigrants who fled their homelands at the end of the nineteenth century in search of a better life in Canada. The trip was arduous and long, with hopefuls surviving unthinkable conditions in the bellies of ships that weaved through turbulent Atlantic waters. Sadly, many did not survive.

Inspired by true events, The Theft of Baby Ily is the fictional account of one Hungarian family determined to start life anew in our great nation. After enduring tremendous hardship for weeks of sea travel, the family is thrilled to be able to submit their official documents to Canadian Immigration authorities at the docks in Halifax. While the father is dealing with government officials, Baby Ily is ripped out of her mother’s arms.

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