Dougall Christie part 2

A CHRISTMAS DING-A-LING

About a year ago, after thirty years of practicing law in downtown Vancouver, I resigned from practice to work for the Salvation Army. I had various ambitions plans to bring access to the law to the poor and disabled. I admit that though I had quit the practice for such lofty goals I continued to exhibit lawyer-like tendencies from time to time.

For some reason as this Christmas approached I had an irresistible urge to volunteer for the Salvation Army in downtown Vancouver standing next to one of their “kettles” ringing a bell. In particular I wanted to do so outside the courthouse and jingle a Salvation Army bell under the noses of various judges, Q.C.’s, and other local legal potentates with whom it was my privilege to mix in my previous life as a litigation lawyer. With the benefit of retrospect I now have to question the purity of my motives!

I made the arrangements with the Salvation Army for Sally Ann officer to meet me with the necessary equipment at 8:45 in the morning outside the courthouse. I wanted a see through kettle so that I could plant in it some twenty dollar bills to promote the spirit of giving. The Captain told me he had no such kettles! He said he would provide me with his own which he would set up for me out side the Court House.

Notwithstanding these difficulties, I managed to scrounge up from elsewhere a splendid transparent kettle. It was given to me by a friend with a bag full of tracts from scripture which I was to give out by way of receipt. That part worried me because I knew that in that particular location scripture tracts would go across like a lead balloon! I did however take the envelopes for tax receipts.

Thus armed I ventured forth on Tuesday morning (Dec. 22nd) and at 8:45 a.m. and there sure enough was the captain with the Red Shield and his kettle set up for me outside the courthouse on 800 Smythe Street. It was cold but I had no a thick coat and various undershirts. I did not foresee any problem.

The Captain was ringing a bracelet of four bells with great aplomb. There was my first qualm. I rather fancied a full blooded bell, the type that is depicted in Oliver Twist movies, one that clangs and can be directed if not aimed, at individuals.

Unfortunately, there was no-nonsense attitude about the Captain and he gave me this feeble jingling loop of bells to me as if it were a prized possession. I felt like a ten-year-old that is given a carefully wrapped baby’s rattle for Christmas!

Then I proudly produced my see-through kettle and reached in my wallet to produce five crisp twenties as ground bait. But the Captain pointed out that my self-through “bubble” did not have the right attachments to hang it from the Red shield stand: I am not a quitted and was about to suggest that he return to headquarters to obtain the necessary chain when I noticed that his red kettle had a substantial looking padlock to prevent access to the money within.

My see-through bubble had no padlock and no way of attaching one. From the rather stern look on the Captain’s face I think he was questioning my motives in preferring my lock-free money container. Deep down I knew he was right in his suspicions though for the wrong reason. Arguing with him obviously would not be productive!

He left me there and I was, left all alone with this ridiculous string of baby’s bells to shake in front of the city’s sharpest minds! My “kettle” could not properly baited and had a miserable little opening at the top that could hardly accommodate a tooney, let alone a twenty dollar bill. The project was now stripped botch financially and musically of its grand design! I had an uneasy feeling somebody up there was humbling me!

For the first ten minutes not a lawyer, let alone a Q.C., came in sight. One lady passed with an extremely hyper boxer on a leash. I made the mistake of trying to pet him while she rummaged through her purse. The dog seized my mitt and for a moment would not let go. Fortunately it was eventually distracted. I had to work hard for that first quarter!

I felt such an utter idiot rattling those stupid bells and trying to smile like a hypocrite when the cold was slowly penetrating my marrow. The only way to keep warm was to move and so I started jogging on the spot. As I jogged the bells rang louder. Pretty soon one fell off! A while later another one followed. Obviously I was jangling them much harder than necessary.

That may have to do with the fact that I am a little hard of hearing and could not hear the true volume of the sound I was creating. In any event I noticed a remarkable thing: when I ran on the spot people seemed to notice and give more.

They were less prone to walk by as if I were a lamppost. I do not know whether this was because of the extra noise from the bells or because the sight of a fifty-eight year old man running on the spot to some people is a funny sight. The point is that it worked! I warmed up and money started flowing in though admittedly in small denominations.

At last I pied a Q.C. with his junior counsel and student in tow complete with gown bag, trolley and clients trotting behind. There is nothing more splendid that the sight of a properly organized charge into the courthouse by senior counsel. To accost him at such a moment would have been an obscenity! I stood frozen with bells mute at my side while the great man sailed past me into the courthouse. I prayed that he might win. I have noticed how amazing it is that the flush of success will sometimes make people, even of Scottish heritage (like myself), give away all kinds of money!

At ten o’clock, the time for court approached, the lawyers and an occasional judge walked by. Those who recognized me were surprised, to say the least. Most were in a rush. Besides they were cold and did not want to undo coats and drop briefcases to search for money. I would have to wait patiently till they came out nicely warmed, relaxed and hopefully successful. In the meantime I enjoyed their various double –takes.

It occurred to me that “working the street” as I was, in a more or less respectable way, was not as simple as I thought. Each passer-by presented a special challenge.

Children, for example, required a different technique. Quite a few mothers were taking their children shopping, presumably to buy then Christmas presents for fitting or for pre-approval, or perhaps to see Santa at Eaton’s. These mothers were after the early morning bargains and were almost impossible to stop. The best way was to bend down and jingle the bells vigorously at the child’s eye level while looking as cold as possible. This could be done by keeping the spare arm deep in the coat pocket and shivering in a rigid kind of way. I got quite good at it and in 75 % of cases the child would ask his or her mother: ‘What is that man doing?’ Like a boat with dingy in tow that missed the bell-boy, she would flash a look behind and slowly come about dropping her bags to locate some change for the child which was duly deposited in the kettle. These amounts were negligible but for some reason felt good, as good as a twenty-dollar bill from a Q.C.!

I had to admire pan-handlers who can keep smiling on a success ratio of about 1%. I was averaging 20% success rate for those who passed by and yet I was becoming discouraged! However, lawyers coming out of the courthouse began to increase the success rate. It was easy to tell the winners from the losers and that had some relevance to their giving. I have to say that I was amazed at how generous they were!

Eventually as the morning wore on it was evident that the chambers list was not long and the lawyers wanted to get back to the office and wind up for Christmas. I know what hard work it is being pushy at Christmas and it is impossible for a lawyer to win in court without being pushy. Thank goodness I was out of that rat race!

As the lawyers thinned out I had to redouble my efforts to extract money from the non-lawyer population. There were quite a few bicycle couriers around. They know well the pain of cold and how to bear it by keeping active. They really responded well to my rigid shiver. Though I know that couriers have to work hard for long hours and are usually as poor as church mice they gave loonies and toonies in grand style.

I noticed a particularly glossy and well-groomed dove (Since preparing this report I have learned that it was probably a pigeon) pecking away next to me. He looked cold too. Discouraged, I asked myself, as the donations waned in amount and frequency; what really was my motive? I was cold. There was no doubt of that, but I was pretending to be even colder that I was! I felt rather like a vulture praying on mothers and innocents.

I also noticed that almost every women that passed by would smile at me. I have to admit that gave me very pleasant feeling. I was cashing in on the good reputation of The Salvation Army in all kinds of indecent ways!

Furthermore, I was rivetted on the amounts given. I was not meant to notice such thing! Then there were lawyers! Not too long ago in the media I had attacked some of the leaders of the profession for being heartless, if not plain evil! What was I now doing soliciting money from the same people? I was not out of the lawyers rat-race at all! I had created my own version of the rat-race which I every bit as bad as theirs! If the Captain had some instrument for reading my mind I would be fired on the spot!

Just then I noticed that the dove was pecking at the pavement furiously. However, there was not a speck of food on the pavement! He seemed to be circling around me, from time to time casting an expectant, pleading eye at me. He was shivering a little notwithstanding his glorious plumage. Then he would again peck furiously at the foodless pavement as is to say; Can you not see I am wrecking this beak of mine looking for food? I am cold and hungry! Cant you give me something to eat?

I had a very nasty feeling that I was looking at myself! I realized the bird was a fraud but for some reason I had an almost irresistible desire to give the stupid animal some food. He deserved nothing except perhaps a boot in the rear feathers but he was so ridiculously and loveable human it was impossible not to love him and forgive him!

I laughed and I marveled! How could I so easily forget what Christmas represents? I continued my nefarious activities until the Captain returned. I was humbles but no longer alarmed. I am as big a scoundrel as that dove but, like him, I am loved and forgiven!

That to me is what Christmas is all about!

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ANGLO-SAXONS SNORING

The Anglo-Saxon Club

Is still in very good shape.

And it is worth the occasional snub

To snip through its membership tape!

Master the understatement!

Speak in a measured tone!

If you want to be rich and powerful

Be an Anglo-Saxon clone!

Never focus attention

On yourself or on your deeds,

And never, never mention

Your love or emotional needs!

Frivolity is another requirement,

But pretending is good enough.

You have Anglo-Saxon refinement

If you resemble a ball of fluff

Never speak in earnest

Or show an axe to grind.

Adopt ways of the butterfly

With a light and witty mind.

Under that irrelevant surface

Your heart can beat as steal

For only if you not show it

Can an Anglo-Saxon feel!

Keep your mind neat and tidy,

Each “I” must have its dot.

Just like and English garden

Loose ends will make it rot!

Which leads to the ultimate lesson

On how the world goes round!

Learn these basic principles

And your character will be sound!

What is too confusing!

What seems is good for biz.

What is not important!

What seems is all there is!

So to an Anglo-Saxon it is boring

To hear a man with a cause.

And that explains the snoring

When I crusade on Canadian Laws!

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Thus the forgoing of Dugald Christie's personal thougts about A.S.S. says a whole lot about "access to justice". The fact that the court is prejudiced against certain individuals and group of people says that "access to justice" is a myth.

The bar has confiscated the courts at the detriment of all citizens of this country and until the citizenry choose to sleep walk and naively believe anything and everything that leads to moral degeneracy than not much can be done in terms of "justice" unless one is prepared to turn to God and surrender its life to Him.



Justice is a conscience, not a personal conscience but conscience of the whole of the humanity.
Those who clearly recognize the voice of their own conscience usually recognize also the voice of Justice.
Alexander Solzhenitsyn