Books

"Thousands of years ago, the world was a much different place. And do you know why, children?"

"No," the group of young animals of many different species answered.

"That's because," the tour guide at the Zootopia Museum of Natural History told them, "At the time, predators used to hunt and kill prey species for food."

"Eww!" all the young animals said almost simultaneously, in revulsion.

"But today, we live in a much more friendly society, where all mammals can live together in harmony. However, to make sure that no predator will ever try to kill a prey species for food, that's why the tame collar was invented. Now, most of you must have seen one before, or have parents who wear one, right?"

"Yeah," most of the young mammals answered.

"How would you like to see one up close?"

"Yeah!" they all answered excitedly.

"Then follow me," the armadillo tour guide said, and they all started walking past various dioramas showing ancestral versions of mammals, and towards a door marked 'Theater'.

Once inside, the tour guide had them all sit down in chairs, and then proceeded towards the front of the theater, where she picked up a thick collar with a metal clip, (similar to ones found on safety belts), at the front and a contraption with a small light at the side. "Children, this is a tame collar," she announced, holding it in front of her, while walking back towards them.

"Wow!" many of them said.

"Now, I'm going to pass it around, so everyone can see it. Now, since it's not closed, it will not give you a shock if you touch it. But I'd strongly recommend that you not put it around your neck; because once it's closed, it may give you a powerful shock, and I don't have the key on me to remove it."

After all the young mammals had finished looking at the collar, the tour guide dimmed the lights, and then turned on a projector. "Now, I'll show you a few slides on how the collar actually works."

The first slide showed a lion and a zebra, and the lion was wearing a collar with a green light flashing. "As you can see, the predator is calm, thus the green light. But let's say he starts to get angry for some reason."

The next frame showed the lion with a frown on his face and his fangs showing; the light on the collar was now yellow. On the following frame, the lion was definitely angry, with all teeth showing, and a red light shining. Meanwhile, the zebra, who had only shown concern on the previous frame, was now truly afraid. "The collar will activate and ..."

The next frame showed the lion obviously in pain as shock lines emanate from the collar. The final frame showed the lion calm again, and a relieved zebra. "And that's how the tame collar works, children," the tour guide concluded.

In the audience, there sat a young red fox in a green tropical T-shirt and brown pants. His name was Nicholas Peter Wilde, but everyone called him Nick. "When I grow up," he said to himself, "I'm not going to be like any other predator. I'm going to be so good that I won't need to have a tame collar on, because I'll never get angry with anyone, and that's a promise."

Promises children make.

"How far are we now?" Oxen asked, as they exited the forest, and found themselves facing an empty road.

"Supposedly, we cross here, and then we go up that hill," Bereza answered, pointing forward with her muzzle towards a grassy hill bordered by trees.

"Then let's go," Zoya answered, and they started running again.

What they saw, once they reached the top of the hill, completely astounded them: upright stones as far as the eye could see in front of them. "So this is where humans are buried," Oxen said.

"And supposedly where you will find another human fox like you," Bereza answered, "Now, let's go," and they started running down.

But all of a sudden, Bereza screamed, "I've been shot!"

Zoya and Oxen immediately stopped, and went over to her. "Where?" Zoya asked, looking her over, "I don't see any blood."

"Actually, I'm alright," she realized, "But I swear I felt as if a bullet had gone straight through me."

"I know what you mean," Zoya answered, "There's something wrong about this place. It's as if something we can't see was watching us, waiting for the best opportunity to strike."

"Then let's get out of here quickly!" Oxen answered, and as fast as they could, they zoomed down the hill, and into the cemetery.

Once there, the feeling of fear was gone; however, it was now replaced by an intense sadness, one they had never felt before, and strong enough to almost paralyze them. "What is going on?" Zoya asked, her watery eyes making her almost blind.

"I don't know," Oxen answered, his eyes also watering, "But it's making me feel as if I wanted to die."

"Don't stop walking," they suddenly heard a voice in front of them say, "Just follow my voice, and you'll be fine."

"Who is this?" Oxen asked, knowing it was neither Zoya, nor Bereza.

"My name's Aneta," she answered, "Just trust me, and keep on walking."

After what felt like hours, but must have been just a few minutes, the trio reached the center of the cemetery. And there to greet them, standing between two white tombstones, was a strange-looking vixen. Her head was white with two huge dark grey marks over her eyes, separated by a thin white border. Her sides and back were also dark grey, except for a white line running down her spine to the base of her tail, which was light grey with a white tip. Finally, she was wearing a red collar with a golden tag around her neck.

"You definitely aren't from around here," she started, "Or you would have known not to try and cross the old Babi Yar trench like you did. And thank goodness I was here, too, or else you would have been dead of fright by morning."

"What was that?" Bereza exclaimed.

"Many fox lives ago, thousands of humans were rounded up here, and shot dead by other humans, just because they were different. Their bodies were buried, one on top of the other, in a trench at the bottom of this hill. And ever since then, their spirits have haunted this part of the cemetery."

"But how do you know all that?" asked Zoya.

"It's kind of hard to explain, but the cemetery told me this."

"How?" then asked Bereza.

"Again, it's hard to explain, but it's as if the cemetery is silently communicating with me in a language that I can understand. But enough about me: who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"My name is Zoya, and this is Oxen and Bereza," and she pointed them out, "And we've been looking for you, Aneta."

"Me? Why?"

"Bereza," Zoya asked, somewhat uncomfortably. "Me and Oxen would like to talk to Aneta in private for a few minutes. So if you wouldn't mind moving away a little bit, please?"

"Can I move away?" she answered, "Or will this 'cemetery' try to kill me again, once I leave your side?"

"This side of the cemetery is safe, don't worry," Aneta assured her.

"OK; but remember that we have to pick up my friend's vehicle on its way back, or else we'll be stranded here," as she started to move away, heading towards the gateway marking the entrance to the cemetery.

"We'll be quick," Oxen answered. And then to Aneta, "Are you the Aneta who was born on a farm north of here a few months ago?"

"I was born on a farm north of here, yes."

"An only cub?"

"Yes, but why."

"And when you get scared for your life, do you."

".jump into the air, and start flying? Yes, I do."

"You can fly?" Zoya said, astounded.

"You can't? But I was told that all human foxes could fly."

"I think that you're the only human fox around here who can fly. In fact, that's why we've been looking for you. You're one of the six fox cubs who survived the explosion, and acquired special powers."

"An explosion? Wait a minute,.yes, my Mama told me about that, and said that it had killed all my brothers and sisters soon after our births."

"Same thing for us two. I was an only cub, and so was Zoya."

"And Bereza?"

"She's a wild fox who told us where to find you."

"Now, you said that there were six fox cubs who acquired special powers. What are yours?"

"When I'm in danger, I disappear; and Zoya turns into a monster fox. And another fox I know, named Tomko, can control minds and melt metal."

Suddenly, they heard, like a shout, "I hate to bother your conversation, but we really need to go, if we want to catch our ride back home."

"Where do you need to catch this 'ride'?" Aneta asked.

"By the canal," Bereza answered, "But on the other side, and I don't know how we're going to cross without getting our paws wet."

"There's a human footbridge close by. I'll walk with you, and show you where it is."

"How nice of you; thanks," Zoya answered, and the three foxes then joined Bereza at the entrance gate. After crawling under it, they walked towards the road, then turned right.

Alexandra Trob Pine-Marten (NOR)
(Fighting gender discrimination)

Ever since humans were humans, there had existed a battle of the genders. For millennia, male humans had downgraded their female counterparts, claiming they were the stronger gender, and the females the weaker one, despite proof that both genders were alike. But finally, in the second century BGC, human females were able to get full gender equality in most countries of the world. In the furry world, since both genders were considered equal before the Cataclysm, they were considered equal after it. But as the years went by, very subtle differences began to emerge, especially sports-wise. Indeed, if you were to compare the gold-medal results of males and females in the same timed events at the Honour Games, even if the times were very close, the males time would always be faster. That fact bothered 17-year-old Norwegian long-track speed-skater Alexandra Trob Pine-Marten a lot, and so she was determined to prove it wrong.

Alexandra had been practicing long-distance sports ever since she was a cub at her district grade school in her home city of Oslo. In the summer, she would run 5,000- and 10,000-metre track races; and in the wintertime, she would cover the same distance, but on an ice ring, and wearing skates on her feet. But pretty soon, she discovered that she was a much better skater than runner, and so the track races became merely a way to stay in shape for the winter season.

Alexandra had always noticed that the times of her male counterparts on the ice were faster than those of the females, but at first it really didnt bother her. It was only when she was 11 years old that she started to find annoying the males bragging that they were, and would always be, the faster gender on skates. Wishing to someday prove them wrong, Alexandra started to train harder. And at each of the competitions in which she took part, she would compare the winning times of the females with those of the males. But while the times were always pretty close, the males times were always faster.

Why fight it? some of her teammates told her one day, Males will always be faster on the ice; its furry nature.

No, its not! she retorted, A female can beat a male on the ice, and Im going to prove it someday.

Whatever, her teammates would scoff, and thats usually where the argument ended. But one day, some of the faster males decided to deliberately skate slower than usual, thinking Alexandra would finally get off their backs about it. However, Alexandra got wind of the plan, and convinced all the female skaters to skate slower than usual, as well. A female can beat a male in a NON-RIGGED competition, and Im going to prove it someday! she told the male whom she guessed had drawn up the plan. The male just shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

A few years later, two months after her 17th birthday, Alexandra was at her first National Championships, which would also serve as the Honour Games qualifiers. As expected, Alexandra absolutely wanted to become a participant in the Norwegian team going to the Games, and so she made sure that her skates were well-sharpened, and that she was ready, both physically and mentally, to face the upcoming challenge.

There were only 17 females competing in the 5,000 and 10,000-metre events, but each of them had the potential to win both. So, Alexandra gave it all she had on the ice, and managed to dominate in both races, thus guaranteeing her spot on the Honour Games team. But, frustrating for her, her winning times were still slower than those of her counterpart on the male side. One of these days she mumbled to herself.

And a few weeks later, she and the rest of the Norwegian team boarded a jet bound for Calgary, via London, UK and Toronto, Canada.

They arrived at their destination around 6PM, and soon after climbed aboard the shuttles heading for the Village. Once there, they checked into their temporary accommodations in Building no. 5, and then went to eat at the Village restaurant. About an hour after that, they were once again in their rooms, many of them preparing for bed. Alexandra included.

Two days later, Alexandra was eating alone in the restaurant when a housecat wearing the American team uniform approached her. Excuse me, do you speak English? she asked her.

A bit, Alexandra answered.

Well, I heard last night at the restaurant that you were planning to try and skate winning times in your races that were faster than those of the males.

Exactly. Ive come so close so many times; one of these days, Im going to do it.

Well, good luck, the American said without much conviction as she then walked away.

Thanks, Alexandra responded, thinking it very obvious that the housecat was just being polite. She doesnt believe that I can do it, Alexandra thought to herself, But Ill prove her wrong, and maybe even at these Games. I will be vindicated!

A few days later, Alexandra entered the Main Stadium as the flag bearer for the Norwegian team, and did her best to stay calm, despite her excitement. After the Opening Ceremonies were over, she and some of the other members of the Norwegian speed-skating team returned to the restaurant for the Meet-and-Greet.

Over the following few days, Alexandra spent a lot of time at the ice ring, either to practice, or to watch her fellow Norwegians competing. Many times, she was given encouragement for her endeavour to out-skate the males, but most of those comments seemed insincere, so they basically just went in one ear and out the other. Theyll see, she told herself each time.

And finally came day 6, the day of the 5,000-metre race, and her first shot at a medal. So how are you feeling today, Alexandra? her coach, a red fox, asked her at breakfast.

Fantastic! she answered him, In fact, I feel so good today, Coach, that not only am I going to win the gold medal, but Im also going to make history. And in more ways than one.

Just try to get in the medals, Alexandra, and thatll be enough for me, OK?

OK, Coach."

Soon after breakfast, the whole long-track speed-skating team left for the ice ring. Once there, Alexandra and three other team-mates competing that day went to put on their skates. After that, they waited for the competition to begin, which it did at around 10 AM.

First to go were the males. Alexandra paid very close attention to the leading time, to see if she had any chance of beating it during her run. It turned out that the time to beat would be 7:00.76, set by Gregor Hultz Beech-Marten of Austria. Well, I definitely have my work cut out for me, she sighed, But as they say, where theres a will, theres a way.

Then the females competition began. Luckily for Alexandra, she would be among the last two to skate, so she could watch her competitors, and note places where she might be able to gnaw a few hundreds of a second off her time.

But eventually, the time for observing finished, replaced with the time for racing. Alexandra took a couple of warm-up laps around the inner practice lanes, and then waited to be called up to the starting line. Racing against her would be Canadian Laura Flint Nova-Scotia-Duck-Tolling-Retriever, one of the best long-distance speed-skaters in the world. I just need to stay as close to her as possible during the race, and then out-sprint her for the finish line, Alexandra told herself as she waited for the starting horn.

A few seconds later, the horn blared, and they were off. As planned, Alexandra stayed within striking zone of her opponent, sometimes even taking the lead. But with one loop left to go, they were neck-and-neck. Thats when Alexandra went for her last reserves of energy, and accelerated. Her opponent also accelerated, and was able to keep up to her, but with 50 metres to go, Alexandra took the lead, and didnt give it up for the remainder of the race.

Congratulations, Alexandra, her coach told her as she joined him at the sidelines, but Alexandra was not listening to him. Instead, she was trying to see her result on the scoreboard.

And then she saw it: 7:00.15!

She had done it! Not only had she won the race; she had also posted a time faster than the males! Yes! Females rule! she shouted, before realizing her coach was still beside her. Sorry, she mumbled.

Thats OK, he answered, You can scream what you want. You are the Honour Games champion, after all.' Just then, the rest of the Norwegian long-track speed-skating team came over to hug and congratulate their gold-medal-winning mate. And together, they returned to the Village to celebrate.

That evening, Alexandra was standing on the highest step of the podium, between surprise silver-medallist Lina Carlsson Red-Fox of Denmark, and Laura Nova-Scotia-Duck-Tolling-Retriever, who had won bronze. And as she stood there, gold medal around her neck, listening to her national anthem being played, she couldnt help but feel proud. Proud of herself, of her country, andof her gender.

Kittiwake Friends

In British Columbia, there is a road called the Skein River Trail, which winds from Prince Rubin, on the Pacific coast, up to the village of Hazel Hill. Along this river road, there are many fishing villages, where one can rent a boat and try to catch a superb salmon for dinner. But if, on his way to Hazel Hill, one decides instead to take Highway 73, he will soon find himself near the peaceful town of Kittiwake. It is here that this story takes place.

Kittiwake is a small village with barely 400 inhabitants. Most of the villagers are either descendants of railway workers who colonised the region in the 1890s, or Gitxsan Indians, mostly from the Gitwangak band. Years before, Kittiwake had been a logging town, but the Doberlandt mill had since closed down, taking with it about a third of the population. Artisans, both Native and White, then started moving into the abandoned houses, and the village changed its vocation, to now depend on the tourism industry.

The village proper is nestled in a valley, but many outlying houses were built on higher ground. The highest is a section called Lonely Man's Crest. This is where the Spear family lives.

The Spear family comprises six members: Jason, his wife Marilyn, and their children Caroline, Michael, Roger, and Catherine. Jason, a man of 42, operates a publishing house he and his 46-year-old wife had bought a few years before. Their speciality: books by regional writers and brochures about the Skein River. Due to the popularity of fishing in the region, the brochures bring lots of money to the couple, and thus permit them and their family to live a reasonable lifestyle. Being modest, they still live in the ancestral home, a two-storey Victorian-era structure, repairing it when necessary. And behind the house, there is a hefty section of woodland that has stayed relatively pristine due to Mr. Spear's refusal to allow any logging there. As he likes to say, "Land is always more beautiful when left alone. I prefer hearing birds and seeing squirrels than hearing chainsaws and seeing loggers. No matter what they say, there is no beauty in a clear-cut, only pure ugliness."

Caroline, 12, is the youngest Spear, and the shortest. ("But not for long," she often tells herself.) Her short blonde hair is nearly always decorated, either with barrettes, ribbons, or hairpins. Her brothers and sister think it makes her look childish, but she insists many girls her age at the Kittiwake Elementary School still wear hair decorations, and besides, they set off her beautiful 'fawncoloured eyes very well, thank you'. At this point, the discussion usually ends because, other than the fact that her declaration is true on both accounts, they know she's old enough to make her own decisions, including when she will stop wearing ribbons and stuff in her hair. Until then, they will have to grin and bear it.

Seventeen-year-old Michael, slim (like his sisters and brother), and with short blond hair and a blond moustache, is the animal lover of the Spear family. To make sure people know it, he wears clothing with pro-environmental themes on them. Another way he shows his love for animals is through a small animal clinic, which he and two friends opened the year before in the cellar of the Spear house, and operate when they're not at school. None of them having much veterinary training, they mostly give checkups, or do simple procedures, like setting broken bones. But as their training in veterinary science improves, they will try more complex procedures. While his two partners study at the Trace vet school, Michael is completing his final year at Mountains High School, also in Trace, about 100 km southwest of Kittiwake. So every Monday, he takes the plane at nearby Woodley Airport, along with his elder sister and brother and seven other teens from Kittiwake. (The trips were paid through a special government program.) But unlike the other nine, who stay in Trace during the week, Michael does the round trip every day. "My social life is taking a beating right now," he often says to himself, "But wait until I start vet school: I'm going to get it all back."

Many people say Roger, 19, is built like an Olympian, and with his blond hair and brown eyes, he looks the part as well. Nevertheless, Roger says that he is more of an outdoorsman than a sportsman. In fact, there is not a weekend or school holiday that he doesn't climb on his snowmobile to ride the many trails in the backyard forest; and in summer, he hikes, does bird-watching, and a bit of rock-climbing, too. He knows everything about the woods: the types of trees, edible plants and mushrooms—enough that you'd think that he was studying to become a biologist. Roger's goals are more focused towards civil law, though, and that's what he is currently studying at Trace University. As mentioned before, Roger stays in Trace during the week, sharing an apartment with his sister and two fellow law students. "We have the most lawsuit-proof apartment in Trace," he often quips, "Three student lawyers in it; we're invincible!"

Last, but not least, there's 21-year-old Catherine. Different from her brothers and sister, she has blue eyes, and blond hair that reaches the middle of her back. Another difference is her great interest in domestic chores. Indeed, when she is not in Trace, taking business courses at the university, she's doing household duties (cleaning, cooking, accounting...). Her parents are pleased that she is being so useful around the house, but they sometimes wonder if she's doing these things because she is planning to get married soon. But asked about it, Catherine responds that she is not quite ready for that step yet.

...

Lower down the mountain there is another section, called Breadbox Alley due to a fire that raged there 40 years before, which destroyed nearly all of its old houses. The destroyed homes were replaced by bungalows, or 'breadboxes', as some residents lovingly call them. In this section live two good friends of the Spears: Matthew Hawk and Mark Tracy.

Matthew, an 18-year-old Gitwangak belonging to the Wolf clan, lives with his parents and his 13-year-old sister Gloria. Height being a genetic factor in his family, he stands at 6'2", and if you add square shoulders and a muscular build, he looks the type you don't want to mess with. Other features of Matthew's appearance include his brown eyes and his long black hair, which he keeps hanging over his left shoulder like a long ponytail. His clothes are always Indian-style, since his father is a tailor, specialising in both Indian and White people's clothes. His career plan, though, is to become a vet. That is why he and Mark work with Michael at the clinic. But as soon as he finishes his degree at the Trace Vet School, Matthew plans to work at the Kittiwake Animal Hospital, in the village. Matthew has an ally there, in the shape of head vet, Dr. John Eagle, an Eagle clan Gitwangak, who's taken him under his wing, and who's promised him a position at the hospital as soon as he gets his diploma. With Matthew's never-say-die determination, that job's as good as his.

The same age, but 5 inches shorter, is Mark Tracy. Mark is also of medium weight, with short brown hair and brown eyes, and he often wears a fedora when the temperature outside is warm enough. He lives with his parents and an older sister named Carol in the only house in the Alley that isn't a bungalow. (The house had been only partially destroyed by the fire, so his grandparents simply rebuilt what had been burnt away.) Mark's father owns a small repair shop in the village where he fixes cars, bikes, and other vehicles. It's not a great salary, but at least it's not minimum wage, so the family lives relatively well. Mark himself studies with Matthew at the vet school, and shares an apartment on campus with him and two other students. Unlike his three roommates, who are planning to become cat-and-dog veterinarians, Mark wants to become a wildlife vet, since he loves wild animals, and he hates to see them injured or killed. And, he has the 'touch' with them.

There are two other residents at the Tracy household, in the shape of two red foxes named Robin and Maryann. Two years before, Robin, then a cub, had fallen in a well near their house. Mark and a few neighbours fished him out, and ever since that day, Robin patrols by the house on his daily hunting rounds. The Tracys don't consider him a pet, (even though he acts tame with them), but rather a faithful friend. When Robin started showing up with a young female, Mr. Tracy decided to find out if he could entice them to stay, by building them a den made of earth and sod at the side of the house. Strangely, Robin and Maryann accepted it immediately, even though the main chamber was uncoincidentally right beside a cellar window. And when Maryann, who soon became used to the Tracys, (but never as tame as Robin), had her first cubs, Mark had a window on this secretive aspect of a vixen's life. Since foxes usually return to the same den year after year, Mark knows she will be back this year. And like last year, as soon as the cubs open their eyes, he will cover up the window; he knows how dangerous it is for cubs to imprint on humans, and he wants to avoid that as much as possible for Maryann's cubs.

Since you now know the setting and the main characters, now as they are celebrating New Year's Eve together, let us explore the adventure that changed their lives forever during the previous year - a story of love, hate, courage, determination, and most of all, hope.

Jeff Healey: See the Light

(Based on interviews with Mr. Healey, and the website www.jeffhealey.com)

When Jeff Healey received the phone call that he had been chosen to receive the lifetime achievement award bestowed upon him by the Maple Blues Society of Canada in 2003, he was hesitant to accept it. "Usually an award like that comes at the end of a career, but I plan to be making music for many years to come. I ended up accepting the award in recognition of my contributions to music so far, with the understanding that I'm not done yet!"

Indeed the multi-instrumentalist and singer released his eighth album and his third of beloved jazz fare in 2006. Among Friends, Adventures in Jazzland and It's Tight Like That feature fellow players and accomplished musicians in the genre of traditional jazz. Best known and well-loved as the smoky voiced smooth playing guitarist prodigy who fronted the Jeff Healey Band as a blues rock staple in the '80s and '90s, Jeff has come full circle back to his roots in traditional jazz.

Norman Jeffrey Healey was born in Etobicoke, Ontario on March 25th, 1966. But four moths later, he was diagnosed with retinoblastoma (a type of eye cancer) in his right eye, and thus had to have it removed, and replaced with a prosthetic, or plastic, eye. About six months later, the cancer reappeared, this time in his left eye, and so that one was removed also. Which meant that now, he was completely blind.

Nevertheless, even when very young, he decided that he wasn't going to live life as an invalid. Indeed; at age three, when he was offered a guitar for Christmas, he learned to play it all by himself, placing the guitar flat on his lap, and fretting it with five fingers instead of the normal four, (a style that he would use throughout his professional career, and still uses today.)

Jeff attended the Ontario School for the Blind, starting in 1972, and soon began participating in school productions and variety shows there. In fact, he was even being invited to take part in local cable shows as a young artistic prodigy. And when the school changed its name in 1974 to the W. Ross MacDonald School for the Blind, (in honour of a former Ontario lieutenant-governor), Jeff was part of the celebration, presenting Mr. Macdonald with a commemorative scroll.

In 1980, he was admitted to Etobicoke Collegiate Institute, and took part in various rock bands, including one called The Blue Direction, a quartet made up of students from different schools. Nevertheless, they were able to find time to practice together, and then perform in local jazz and blues coffee-houses. But soon after Jeff graduated from Etobicoke Collegiate, the members of the band all decided to go their separate ways, meaning that if Jeff wanted to continue in music, he'd have to do it on his own. (N.B. Actually, one other member, Rob Quail, did continue in music, playing guitar with the Jeff Healey Band in their beginnings, and then becoming a session musician.)

In 1985 Healey sat in with Albert Hall and his band at the legendary bluesroom, 'Albert Hall's', in downtown Toronto. He was subsequently invited back to perform with Stevie Ray Vaughan and the Albert Collins Band. (Vaughan was very impressed with Mr. Healey's musical abilities, and they would perform together many times over the years, including the day before Vaughan died in a helicopter crash in 1990.)

Later that year, while playing at an open-jam session at the internationally renowned Grossman's Tavern, in downtown Toronto, he was introduced to local bassist Joe Rockman and drummer Tom Stephen. The three of them decided to join together and form a band called the Jeff Healey Band. Their first gigs in places like the 'Robin's Nest' got them featured in a local magazine called 'Now', and they were soon playing almost nightly in bars and clubs all across Toronto. And in 1986, they were even invited to perform at Vancouver's Expo '86, alongside another musical legend: B.B. King.

Later that year, deciding they were ready for the big times, the band founded their own indie record label called Forte Records, and released their first single, 'Adrianna', to relatively little success. However, the following year, they were able to sign a contract with Arista Records, for distribution of their upcoming first record in the United States. And since BMG Canada owned Arista Records, the company agreed to distribute the album, when it came out, in Canada.

In 1988, the trio was invited to perform as the house band 'Double Deuce' in the true-life drama 'Road House', starring Patrick Swayze, as well as record the soundtrack. (David Lee Henry, who had written the screenplay for 'Road House', was very impressed by Jeff's ability to play despite his disability.) The movie, unfortunately, didn't fare very well in the box-office, and neither did the soundtrack.

Meanwhile, the Jeff Healey Band had finished recording their first album, 'See the Light', (which included hits such as 'Angel Eyes' (which rose to no. 5 on Billboard's Hot 100) and the eponymous 'See the Light'), releasing it in September 1988. The album sold over 300,000 copies in Canada that year, as well as going platinum (over 1 million copies sold) in the US. The Jeff Healey Band had finally made it!

And the fame didn't stop there. Successful tours around the world, nominations for national and international awards (Their song 'Hideaway was nominated at the 1989 Grammy Awards in the 'Best Instrumental' category), and invitations to shows such as 'Late Night with David Letterman'. They were at the top of their career! But, as everyone knows, what goes up must one day come down.

In 1990, the Jeff Healey Band released a second album called 'Hell to Pay', which didn't do as well as the first one; but still, 2 million copies sold worldwide, including 200,000 in Canada was nothing to sneeze at. Neither were two Juno nominations; one for Album of the Year ('See the Light'), and the other for Entertainer of the Year, (which the band won.)

The following year, Jeff met an attractive 17-year old woman, after doing a gig in a Toronto club. The young woman told him she wanted to be a singer, so he decided to give her a chance to sing onstage. He was so impressed by her voice, that he encouraged her to go on the bar circuit. And a few months later, he did even better, inviting her on his upcoming US tour, and even offering to have Forte Records manage her career. Good move, because the young woman blossomed into one of Canada's great singers of the 1990's. Her name: Amanda Marshall.

Meanwhile, the band released two other albums: 1992's 'Feel This', and 1995's 'Cover to Cover', which was basically cover versions of famous songs of the 1970's. In 1996, they recorded a song called 'Bulletproof', for the movie 'The Glimmer Man', starring Steven Seagal. After that, the group decided to take a sabbatical from recording, in order to concentrate on other things, like touring. And when not on tour, Jeff was involved in a personal project on CBC Radio Toronto called 'My Kinda Jazz', (a project he had started a few years before), where he talked about his favourite musical style…jazz, and played songs from his huge collection of traditional jazz records (over 30,000 78-rpm's from the 1920's and 1930's, which he had started to collect when he was a kid.) The show lasted until the end of the 1990's. As well, his love of traditional jazz drew him to a local group called the Hot Five Jazzmakers, with whom he performed off and on until 2002.

(P.S. In 2005, Jeff revamped the show 'My Kinda Jazz', but this time on Toronto's CJRT Jazz-FM.)

In 2000, the Jeff Healey Band released an album called 'Get Me Some', but it was a major disappointment, both sales-wise and quality-wise. And what had to happen did, the following year: the Jeff Healey Band broke up. Soon after, Forte Records dissolved, thus ending the contract with Amanda Marshall; and so, Jeff returned to what he now realised was his true calling: playing traditional jazz.

Soon after the Jeff Healey Band's break-up, Jeff opened a night club at the corner of Bathurst and Queen Streets, in downtown Toronto, and called it 'Healey's'. He then recruited a group of like-minded jazz lovers who shared his respect for vintage recordings; and together, they are the Jazz Wizards, playing Saturday matinees at the club. But for Thursday evenings, he hired another group of musicians to be the house band, called the Jeff Healey Blues Band. In both these groups, he sings, and plays guitar; as well as, (in the Wizards), playing the trumpet, an instrument he'd mastered while at the W. Ross Macdonald School for the Blind. In 2006, he moved his business to a larger building on Blue Jay Way, calling his new club 'Healey's Roadhouse'. But, of course, he kept his two bands intact, with whom he has been touring the world for quite a few years now.

And when he's not at his club or on tour, he's either at home with his wife and two children, or at the recording studio. As mentioned at the beginning of this bio, Jeff has recorded three traditional jazz albums, though only the last one was with his Jazz Wizards. "I have the liberty to do what I want to do," he enthuses, and that means being able to offer his fans traditional American jazz music of the 1920s and '30s alongside his catalogue of great rock songs. "I'm hoping there's no high point, that it's always a progression. And I fully intend to put in another 50 years here!"

We're behind you, Jeff!

(Update: Jeff Healey passed away on March 2nd, 2008, due to cancer. He will be sorely missed.)

The Right Honourable MP David Blunkett: In the Arms of Power

(taken from his autobiography, 'On a Clear Day')

I find when I meet some people for the first time, after greeting my guide dog, they tentatively raise the question of my blindness. I don't mind this; it's perfectly natural that people should wish to ask questions about how much I can see, whether it's possible to perceive colours, whether I can imagine what people look like from their voices, and whether it's possible to dream, when dreams are essentially pictures. [I will attempt] to answer some of those questions.

The simple truth is, that very few blind people have no perception of light and dark. I fall into the category of those who can discern light, particularly bright light. For instance, sunshine streaming in through a window. However, there are times when I get it wrong. I've often crossed a room in the evening to switch off a light, only to find that it was already off. I do imagine. And imagination is often very useful in the sense that it can enable me to focus in, and to look and behave in a perfectly normal way. I use my hearing, touch, and smell. And also, what I can only describe as an overall perception, or 'sixth sense', to enable me to feel when someone or something is close to me. Perhaps when I'm in danger of walking into a lamp post.

Everyone has these faculties, but doesn't necessarily have to use them. For me, they're crucial.

So far as dreams are concerned, I dream the reality which I experience when awake. i.e. the combination of touch, smell, and perception all blend together to form my dreams. I 'see' people in as much as I see them in my waking life. As is the case with sighted people, who see each other very differently, I also see people differently. What some people find attractive, others do not.

It saddened me recently when I heard that a young blind man had asked the Princess of Wales if she would allow him to feel her face. We have to be what we are. We do not perceive people by the shape of their nose at our fingertips, but by their voice, their manner, and their approach. I don't need to feel the top of someone's head to know how tall they are, as I was once asked to do when young. I can hear it from where their voice emanates. The notion that this is not the case is quite bizarre.

I count not being able to see as an inconvenience, rather than a disability. For example, if I'm trapped at a drinks party talking to someone who's boring the pants off me, I can't excuse myself by saying, "I've just spotted someone on the other side of the room I wish to have a word with," as sighted people are able to do. I have to rely on someone else spotting my plight, and coming to my rescue. I might occasionally open a can of baked beans instead of a can of peaches. Sometimes, to compensate for lack of sight, there is a danger that I talk too much in a situation where silence would be more appropriate, where the glance would say all that's necessary.

These are minor drawbacks; and although there are, of course, other more serious and embarrassing hazards, (…), most can be overcome.

Occasionally, people say to me, (and they mean it kindly), "I really do admire you. You do so well, for a blind man." Those killing words at the end are a real indication that there is still much progress to be made. The whole point is, of course, that we should all be judged by what we do, and how effective we are, irrespective of any disability. Blind or partially sighted people don't belong to a separate group. Of good or ill; we're all individuals in our own right. Although, some people who work with and for the blind continue to refer to 'the world of the blind'. There is no such thing; there is only the world we all inhabit. And whether blind or not, we all have to come to terms with that.

One of my motives in writing [the book, 'On a Clear Day'] is to try to change people's attitudes, in order to make it a little easier for blind people to cope with the world, and to deal with the realities we face in everyday life.

From time to time, I'm criticized for not being a spokesman for blind people. But it was not for this purpose that I was elected. What I can do, however, is to set an example, and encourage others to understand that helping disabled people achieve true equality in practice is everybody's responsibility.

(…) At this stage of my life and my career, there's a whole life still to be lived, hopefully as much, if not more, than my adult life thus far. Still to be grasped, enjoyed, and rejoiced in.

David Blunkett (1947- ) was elected as the Member of Parliament for Sheffield Brightside in 1987. However, his outstanding political career began in local government as a member of Sheffield City Council where he worked for eighteen years, seven of those years as leader of the council.

In Parliament, David led Labour's assault on the poll tax as Opposition Local Government Spokesman. Promoted to the Shadow Cabinet in 1992, he took on, in turn, responsibility for Health, Education, and then Education and Employment.

Following the 1997 Labour election victory, David became Secretary of State for Education and Employment. There he oversaw massive improvements in the basic standards of literacy and numeracy, substantial class size reductions and the introduction of tuition fees. With Labour returned in 2001, David became Home Secretary, where he concentrated on fighting terrorism, crime and anti-social behaviour, and managing immigration and asylum. David resigned as Home Secretary in December 2004 and then took a leading role in fighting Labour's 3rd term election campaign in spring 2005.

From May to November 2005 he was Secretary of State for Work and Pensions where he set a clear vision for reform of the welfare state, and established a nationwide debate to find a long-term solution to pensions challenges.

Since then, he has been undertaking constituency and parliamentary duties and, in addition, to producing The Blunkett Tapes, has become involved with a number of local, national and international charities, and has further engaged with his long-standing commitment to the 3rd sector in promoting voluntary, community and social enterprise. David is also a regular contributor to the media through newspapers and journals, radio and television.

From the story ‘Radek Burczy Red-Fox (CZE): Soldiering On Despite Traumatic News'

Radek's family lived in Bratislava, but his brother Peter had moved to Poprad, just south of the Polish border, where he'd joined the local police force. Now, none of his family were very keen on him carrying a revolver; but it had been his decision to become a police officer, so they had to accept it. "And besides," they all reasoned, "Czechoslovakia is a safe country, unlike neighbouring Germany and Poland with their bands of hounds. So basically, he'll be spending his days giving tickets and taking part in emergency situations." So, as Radek was packing his bags for the transatlantic trip, he wasn't even thinking about his brother.

Unfortunately, just after his parents returned home after watching their son get on the plane bound for Calgary, they received some very bad news from Poprad: Peter had been seriously injured in a gunfight with a gang of marauding Chart-Polskis, and was now fighting for his life, in the hospital. "We have to call Radek home!" his mother shouted to her husband, "If Peter dies, Radek…"

"HE WILL NOT DIE!!!" Mr. Burczy shouted back, "He'll be fine. And Radek doesn't need to know…yet. We'll go to Poprad first, and see how bad Peter is, and then we'll decide what to do. It might not be as serious as the police department told us; you know how fatalistic some furries can be."

"OK, but if it is serious, Radek's coming straight back to Czechoslovakia!"

"Agreed."

And so, the next day, the family left for Poprad. And when they arrived at the hospital, they realized that it was indeed serious: Peter was in a coma. And while doctors had managed to stabilize his condition, they weren't sure when, or even if, he would ever wake up. That was enough for Mrs. Burczy to order her husband to contact the national cross-country team's head office in Bratislava immediately. But when he tried to call, no-one was answering the phone. So the Burczys decided to stay in Poprad for the night, and then try calling again in the morning.

And so, the following morning, at around 9:00: "Czech national furry cross-country skiing team. How may I help you?"

"Hello, this is Anton Burczy Red-Fox. I need to speak to coach Jagr immediately. Is he there, by chance?"

"Sorry, sir; Coach Jagr went to Calgary for the Honour Games. He won't be back until February 20th. But maybe I can help you."

"Listen; we need to get a hold of our son, Radek. Radek Burczy Red-Fox.

His brother Peter's in a coma at the Poprad Furry Hospital, and he may not make it."

"My goodness! I'll try contacting Coach Jagr right away, but I need to tell you it's eight hours earlier than us over there, so he might not answer me back until this afternoon. But as soon as he does, I'll call you. What is your phone number, please?"

"We're presently staying at the Yellow Star Hotel, room 112, and the phone number is 421-2-556-8734."

"OK. As soon as I hear something, I'll call you right back."

"Thank you."

A few hours later (or earlier in Calgary time), cross-country skiing coach Johan Jagr Cesky-Horsky got the message from his office about Radek's brother, and it troubled him. "If I tell this to Radek," he said to himself, "He won't be able to ski. But if I don't tell him and he finds out, he'll be angry with me, and again he won't be able to ski. So either way, we lose. Oh well, I know what I have to do." And early the following day, he called his office, and obtained the phone number for the Poprad Furry Hospital. Which he then called. And a few hours later: "Radek, I need to talk to you in private. It's very important. Come with me."

They then went to the nearby canteen; and after ordering two Carbonated Mouse drinks, they sat down at a table at the far end of the room. "Radek, I have some very bad news for you," Johan started, "Your parents called my office in Bratislava yesterday. Your brother Peter's in the hospital."

"Oh, my goodness!" Radek replied, "Is it serious?"

"It is. He sustained multiple gunshot wounds, and is in a coma right now. And while doctors say his life is no longer in danger, they don't know when, or even if, he'll ever regain consciousness. So if you want to go back home to Czechoslovakia, I'll understand. I'll even book a ticket for you right away. But it's your decision."

"Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I: it's my brother. So book me a plane ticket back home, Coach, and I'll go pack my bags."

"Probably a good idea."

"Yeah," as he started to get back up, "By the way, how did it happen? How did he get shot?"

"Supposedly, he was in a firefight with a pack of marauder Chart-Polskis."

"POLISH GREYHOUNDS?!" Radek roared.

(You must remember that, even though they may live in safe countries, red foxes had kept an ancestral fear of hounds. In fact, some feared even hound species that had never posed any threat to them, even before the Cataclysm. So, depending on the red fox himself, the mention of a hound hurting a family member brought on either a flight, or a fight, reaction.)

"A HOUND HURT MY BROTHER?!"

"Now, calm down, Radek," his coach said, trying to prevent him from being destructive.

"I'll kill them! As soon as I get back to Czechoslovakia, I'm going to find them, and I'm going to kill them!"

Suddenly, a half-glass of Carbonated Mouse was splashed with full force in his face, instantly calming him. He then shook his head wildly. "Thanks, Coach."

"Now, I don't know if you should be going home at all."

"I'm not going home; I'm too angry! I'm so angry right now I don't know if I can control myself anymore. I'm out of here before I wreck something!"

"Where are you going?" the coach asked, as he saw his protégé storm out the door.

"For a walk. Alone!"

The coach did not insist.

Radek took the shuttle back to his apartment building, and then took a walk around the Honour Games Athletes' Village. After about an hour, he was calmer, and had decided: "I'm going to do my races until I win a medal, or I hear that my brother's condition has worsened," he told his coach later that day, "And then, I'll go home."

"Good plan," Johan answered.

"Sure hope so," he added a little worriedly.

An Invitation from the Perfectly Sane Club

(Are you tired of those people who think they're holier than Thou? A little analysis reveals that just the fact that they think they're better than everyone else proves exactly the contrary.)

Hello, friend,

First of all, please let me introduce myself. My name is Mr. Jason Prongs, and I am the President of the Perfectly Sane Club, a world organization that recognizes people who have been proven to suffer from no mental diseases or conditions, and also have no bad habits or cravings.

So why am I writing this letter to you? It's to officially invite you to consider joining our glorious organization, and thus be recognized as one of the pearls of this world among so many worthless plastic beads.

We do have some very strict criteria for admission, however, as you probably can guess. First of all, you must pass a series of psychoanalytical tests, in order to prove to us that you have no mental problems of any kind. Now you must pass these tests; a letter from your psychiatrist will not do. And the passing grade for these tests is A+: we will not accept anyone lower than that.

As well, certain ethnic groups are not allowed to become members. For example, we exclude from membership anyone who has Irish Canadian relatives up to the grandfather level: Irish Canadians are known to have bad tempers, and we consider that a mental deficiency. As well, Muslims and Canadians with German ancestry are excluded, for obvious reasons.

While we're on the subject, we do not allow anyone who is not heterosexual to become a member; after all, homosexual behavior is considered a sign of mental deficiency, and thus grounds for refusal.

What about women? Many say they are more mentally fragile than men, so it's a little tougher for them to join, but we're open for them to try.

And one final thing that can deny you membership in this club is your occupation. Indeed, if your job doesn't fit our criteria for one done by someone who's mentally superior, e.g. if you're a garbage collector, you will not be accepted as a member. We at the Perfectly Sane Club believe that no-one who is mentally superior would accept to do jobs that are below his mental status. Thus, we only accept as members, heads of large enterprises and their executive staff, university professors, and other people on that social level.

* * *

So, what is it like to be a member of the Perfectly Sane Club? It's fantastic! Think about it: you are a member of an elite that no amount of money can buy a way in; an elite that, by the perfection of all its members, is never ever wrong. Whatever you say in public is always right; and if someone opposes you, it means that they are mentally deficient, and you shouldn't listen to them anymore.

But what if that person is a member of your own family, or a close friend? That might be shocking at first to discover that people close to you are mentality deficient, but you have to cut them out of your life and move on. Myself, I've lost a lot of friends, and I haven't spoken to any of my relatives for years now. But I don't regret it one bit, since I now hang out only with people who are as mentally fit as I am; and if you're accepted into our club, you can, too.

So what exactly happens at one of our meetings? Well, we basically talk about how we're better than the common folk, since we are perfectly sane and they're not. We also discuss worldly affairs, and how easy it would be for us to solve all of the world's problems. And finally, we go hang out at the local bar for a couple of drinks.

Now, wait a minute, you might say; isn't drinking an addiction, and thus a mental defect? First of all, none of us drink ourselves into a stupor. And second, we're perfectly sane; we can drink whatever we want, whenever we want. On the same vein, food cravings are perfectly acceptable for our members. After all, if we're perfectly sane, our cravings can't be considered bad, can they?

And finally, as you're probably wondering; what happens if someone in the club disagrees on an issue with another club member? That nearly never happens; but if it does, we hold a vote on what the correct opinion is, and we then try to make those in the minority admit that they're wrong, and thus bring them back into the fold. However if, despite our best efforts, someone still wants to hold on to his wrong opinion, we have no other choice but to declare that he's suffered a serious brain hemorrhage that affected his intelligence, and now makes him inapt to be a member, and we ban him for life from even contacting anyone in the club. And if that member's married to another club member, we have the marriage annulled, and we then have him thrown him out of his house, and forbid him from ever contacting his spouse, or anyone of his spouse's relatives. Even his children are cut off from him; we don't want the 'infection' to spread, do we?

* * *

That's pretty much what our club is all about. So if you think you have all the qualifications to be considered perfectly sane, you can contact me at jprongs@imbetterthanyou.com. I'm anxiously awaiting your e-mail.