valedictory

i'm a hero ...


oK ... In 1970, I was 13 and in a secret vote in grade 8, I was chosen to speak on behalf of my graduating class at Centennial Central School, in Comber Ontario.  It came out of nowhere, and I was READY!  Bring it ON!

v a l e d i c t o r y

What's odd thinking back, was that I was no where near the having the highest marks ... narrowing it down to 3 choices - the smartest boy, the smartest girl and me (for some reason).  I wasn't even that popular - an outcast perhaps.  Someone who could speak up for those less fortunate.   A friend of mine said that it was a unanimous vote for me (having broken the rules and peeked) - the teacher asking the students to bow their heads down on our desks and raise our hands for the one they wanted to speak for them at our graduating ceremony - calling out the contestants names and counting the votes ... and the winner is ...

v a l e d i c t o r y

 

I went home that night, rather stunned and told my dad that I had been chosen to give the class speech in 2 weeks, to an auditorium full of parents, teachers and our graduating class in a celebration of our terms end, telling my dad that I was nervous and might need his help/assistance with the address.  Dad wrote my speech for me.  It was like there were no options in the matter.

You see;  I lived in an extremely repressed world back then.  I was in an empty environment under the virulent control of my Dad who basically told me that he would be writing his sermon (on my behalf).   This is it here (below) ...  

I remember my Dad toiling over it - chipping carbon copies into an ancient typewriter with multiple versions of the tenuous text - before arriving at his masterpiece while I listened to Deep Purple on my cassette player in my bedroom - wondering what it would look/read like. 

and so the eventful evening arrived.

I was summoned early in the proceedings.  Mrs. McConnell in exclamation ... "And now a word from our graduating class Valedictorian - Jimmy Lamarche".   Joyous jubilation in much anticipation.  Waiting in the side-lines and feeling what adult perspiration was like for the first time.  Dressed in a suit and tie, my hair combed to perfection hard-gelled with sticky vaseline, walking up the platform stairs in shoes that hurt my feet because they were way too small, shivering and shaking ... pulling out my scripted script  and Dad's words (not mine) ...

(here goes nothing) ...



PARENTS, MR. ATTRIDGE, MRS. McCONNELL, FELLOW STUDENTS:

For generations, elementary education has often been referred to as THE THREE R's … Readin' … Ritin' … AND Rithmetic.

As the school terms have passed behind me I have become convinced that this reference might very well be outdated; and possibly now we should consider changing this saying to THE FOUR R's !!!  Through guidance at home, and during my fascinating trip from Kindergarten through grade eight, I have become increasingly aware that for all students … and for all civilized people, the FOURTH "R" stands for RULES !!

From the minute we wake up in the morning, until we are sound asleep at night … at home, and at school, our existence is determined by an impressive array of RULES; many of which sometimes seem unimportant … others may be even MORE important than the original three "R's".  Most privileges in this world, it sees to me, are only available to the people who are willing to pay for them through RESPONSIBILITY.  In other words, we are being asked to PLAY THE GAME; and all games have RULES.



 

Let us not lose sight of the obvious privileges which have surrounded us, especially here at this modern, well-equipped, and well-staffed school.  The years we have been privileged to spend here have given us the stepping stone to what  CAN be a truly wonderful future; and I feel that we should never forget that our excellent education to this point in our lives would never have been possible … WITHOUT RULES!!

Every responsible person connected with our school … This one, and the schools in our future, has a set of RULES or guide-lines which must be followed.  The members of the School Board; our principal; our teachers; our students, and our parents must accept these rules and abide by them … otherwise, the entire undertaking would have long since fallen apart in confusion and failure.

… RULES WILL ALWAYS be with us !!!

Many times we may believe that some rules are too strict … or unnecessary altogether.  However, I have learned that when this thought crosses our minds, we should PUT ON THE BRAKES for an instant … stop … and remind ourselves that rules were not made to be broken, as some would have us believe.  Let's be honest with ourselves, and those around us.  Let's face up to the responsibility of that FOURTH "R" as we move from this stepping stone up to the next … and the next is higher education.  As long as we PLAY THE GAME, I'm sure that our chances of success, happiness, and even survival are very high indeed!!!

I am honoured to have this opportunity to say a few words on behalf of the graduating Grade Eight students of Centennial Central School.  I know that I speak for all of them when I say to you, that we are grateful for the faith which has been placed in us; allowing us to continue our search for knowledge past Grade Eight.  This search is becoming so very important in these rapidly changing times.

We thank the members of the school board;  Mr. Attridge;  every teacher and our parents for abiding by their responsibilities;  making and living by the rules !!!  This has made our progress possible.  We sincerely thank you all for your wisdom and your guidance and for your patience with us.

You have played the game very well!  You have passed the ball to us.  We shall honestly try to carry it safely into the end zone.

June 25, 1970
Centennial Central School, Comber Ontario



 and so ...

What I vividly remember, is finishing my speech to a resounding silence - standing there in a botched, bewildered trance - facing the vacant crowd - clearly not knowing what to think of - what was THAT?  After a few long tortuous seconds there was a single clap, followed by a well choreographed second, third - then the room.  I was embarrassed - humiliated.

v a l e d i c t o r y

Honestly, in that moment ... I was shitting my pants because Dad's speech was garbage and it was almost like everyone knew that I didn't write this and that it was written for me - likely by my father (who else)?  Brutal.  I crawled off the stage like a wounded weasel unknowing of my real future despite the rhetoric and none of my class-mates talked to me for the rest of the festivities.  I wondered why back then sitting alone in the back of the gym - ribbons and balloons (my dad gone).  wondering ... what to do. 

I wrote this piece of music (gone forever) 23 years later in a dream on Westminster Ave in Parkdale Toronto ... waking suddenly and going to my studio at 4am and quietly recording it in about an hour.   It reminds me of that eerie evening in Comber Ontario decades earlier.

Better late than never.  I'm finding that the most redeeming works of art are all too often conceived in a few short moments - like this was.  Oh and one thing I've learned since ...  

rules kill 

whistleblower

look right through me

whistleblower ... a person who exposes misconduct, alleged dishonest or illegal activity occurring in an organization

There's a chill in the air.  A haunting silence that echos down the dark corridors of our institutions where the reverberant clanging of a metal door closes ... and a voice cries out.  

Where secrets and lies are contained in the shadows of it's detainees and imprisoned informants who live in fear - wondering, what's going to happen next?

Knowing full well, that whatever it is ... it's not going to be good.

w h i s t l e  b l o w e r

Karen Silkwood  

Played in a movie named for her by Meryl Streep in 1983. She died mysteriously in 1974 in the midst of a campaign to challenge Kerr-McGee about the safety of a nuclear facility.

it's a place where those posing a threat just vanish, or a holding cell where they now live because they've exposed something they shouldn't have.

because there was no choice but to act fast.

I'm a whistleblower.  It's not something I chose but it's something that I live with every day.  It's not something that I'm proud of but just is.   oK, I'm small-time but still relevant.  You see, it's all about seeing/witnessing something that we fundamentally abhor (makes us sick) but keep a "lid on" for a long, long time, in anxiety and enormous stress - needing to get it out - needing to tell someone about it.

It's a sanity thing for the rare few who don't turn away from a tragic event with that all too familiar "out of sight - out of mind" religious philosophy.  The few who come to terms with the fact that somebody has to DO something about this.
  
Most people exist in lies and deception but learn to live with it, because the ramifications are rampant and because fundamentally, most people don't care and just want to be left alone. 

Coleen Rowley  

In 2002, this FBI special agent alleged that the agency had failed to act on information provided by agents in Minnesota about one of the figures in the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. She ran for Congress in 2006 but was not elected.


Being a whistleblower in Toronto Canada is relatively safe, with little to prove/expose, in comparison to those who have risked their lives for a cause - a "just" cause.  A disturbing trend that points to distant series of tremors mounting in a caustic crusade where those with the courage - stand alone, despite the odds ... a ripple that turns into a wave that turns into a tsunami - that get's contained out of necessity - for so-called "national security". 

Regardless, lives depend on it - getting the word out to those who become the "deer in the headlights" and just WON'T get out of the way.  Shrouded in secrecy and determined to self destruct - in time, needing to speak up before it's too late. Tick Tock.

Linda Tripp  

This former White House staff member was a key figure in the Monica Lewinsky scandal that led to an attempt to remove President Bill Clinton from office during his second term. 


There is one thing I've learned from all this and being in Canada allows me to write a short essay in relative safety, where those in other parts of the world can't. 

Most if not all whistleblowers have an affinity for a life-force bereft of masculine domination, in a unique feminine inquisition.   Some call it an intervention, and no one can do it like moms can, because all moms care - grandmothers, moms/wives and daughters too.

It's a "mans (mad) world" and those who really need to speak up are all too often, those who possess a maternal instinct and must protect mother earth (and mother nature for that matter - ok our children) from a man made mono-nuclear apocalypse.  Still, it's approaching on the horizon with a propensity for revenge and needing WMDs or yes, "weapons of mass destruction" in a gregariously insular "spun" story in the mainstream press in order to fulfill their pathetic prophecy - drenched in punitive positioning.

Edward Snowden  

American computer specialist who worked for NSA contractors and said that he was an employee of CIA and NSA before leaking details of several top-secret United States and British government mass surveillance programs to the press.



"We're in a giant car heading towards a brick wall and everyone's arguing over where they're going to sit."   David Suzuki
 

Have you ever noticed ... that male whistleblowers are never REAL men?  Have you ever noticed ... that whistleblowers are never homophobic??  no ... they're grounded in both genders and possess both perspectives.

It's that eccentric cop on a beat, the androgynous geek boy who likes computers ... it's the gender confused corporate casualty near the bottom of the food chain who sees things that others ignore, needing to tell people that this is toxic if you consume it.  

Shit!  Maybe it's a woman!  This water is unsafe to drink because the nearby factories are dumping waste into the environment; oh, and FYI ... politicians are protecting those who do that - FOR MONEY!  time to wake up kids!  We're everywhere and yet we are nowhere - invisible and yet shattered.

Erin Brockovich-Ellis  

the American legal clerk and environmental activist who, despite the lack of a formal law school education, or any legal education, was instrumental in constructing a case against the Pacific Gas and Electric Company (PG&E) of California in 1993




Right now, as you read this - there's a drunk husband slipping through the side door somewhere in a dark american suburb, wearing a feminine fragrance and that subtle yet noticable lipstick smear on his collar; acquired in that hidden (and yet meaningful) "bump and grind" at Sammy's bar and grill just an hour ago.   Ok, she was a little "hottee" who looked a bit like Miley Cyrus (same moves) - in exchange for a few drinks and a bump of blow in the men's washroom.  Ah, life is good.  I'm feeling satisfied.

Confronted by his worn wife who questions him and yet getting away with it again and again because that's in the plan baby ... the "getaway" plan.  There's always a contingency caper in yet another confrontation, sequestered in sequence.  World domination IS akin to a psycho-sexual routine, ritualized in a "catch and release" program.  operative word ... "catch".


"Alpha Delta Charlie 3 - evac confirmed - dive"


"Your evidence is paper thin - and you have no right to question me because you live under my roof and you answer to me - and you KNOW it". 

 

Frank Serpico  

This New York City police officer, later portrayed by Al Pacino in a 1973 movie, attempted to confront the rampant corruption within the police department. He left the force after being shot in the face during a botched drug raid and later moved out of the country.




And so the tides shift and the tremors fade because in the new world order, the cover-up mechanisms have been deployed in an operation that i call ... "band-aid on a brain tumor".

Sometimes whistleblowers actually make a difference, but for every one who actually does, there are dozens lost in the cracks of an imperialistic regime that is hellbent on holocaust before hanging.  It's like it's an affirmation ... "if I go down, I'm taking everyone with me" in a game of russian roulette meets "pin the tail on the donkey" and they don't care.  

They don't care about you!
  
Taking a stand against the forces of evil takes a toll on those who try to protect us from the ongoing tortuous tyranny torn by the psychopathic tricksters we elect into power - OR allow to be in a business that rips you OFF!  "Bend over - you're going to LIKE this!"  NO!  not liking this!   SOMEBODY - HELP ME!

 

Sherron Watkins  

An executive for the Enron Corp., she helped expose the seemingly formidable company in 2001 and 2002 as one constructed on enormous financial lies and frauds. Along with Coleen Rowley and WorldCom's Cynthia Cooper, she was one of three whistleblowers named Time magazine's Persons of the Year in 2002.



It's like ok ... if we're on our death beds and thinking ... "if i could go back and change something?  What would it be"  kind of thing.  What would I have done and how?

I'm not suggesting that you all get up right now and run to your window yell out - 'I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!'  like Howard Beale did in the TV mini-series "Network".

No way - that wouldn't benefit you at all because no one is listening - or are they, are you?   It's a question I keep asking myself and more and more I become more and more optimistic.  

Yes.  Someone is listening!

 

Bradley Manning  

The Army soldier was court-martialed at Fort Meade, Md., in the summer of 2013 for documents provided to WikiLeaks.  “I am sorry that my actions hurt people. I’m sorry that they hurt the United States,” he said at his sentencing hearing.

look right through me

look right through me

i'm irrelevant, or am I

i'm convinced, that those who now possess

an impotent sense of power

will subside - refresh?

but it's a stretch

optimism, is a good thing

it's like those who think

that this world can in fact, be

a better place to live in, eventually
facilitate the necessary changes

free of guilt, shame/blame and

free of corruption

wishful thinking
patience

Julian Assange 

WikiLeaks founder currently in exile at the Ecuadorian Embassy in the U.K instrumental in exposing the tragedies and injustices of the U.S. government's lies and coverups in foreign policy and war crimes to the world.



This blog is dedicated to all those who took (or is taking) a stand.  Those who followed or are following their instincts and intuition despite the odds.   Not being able to sit idle and just watch the onslaught of spiritual autonomy absent of compassion and humility.  

This is for those who can "rise to the occasion" even in a torrential storm of ambiguity and false signals, threatening legal letters handed out like halloween candy on a late October evening in the mainstream media ... trick or treat - smell my feet.

  

oK ... just be a "good" citizen 

keep your mouth shut 

and follow the rules, 

and you'll be just fine.   

Trust me 

Jim Lamarche  

Writer and Blog activist forced to shut down his Media Arts Education in Canada blog which exposed ethical improprieties on the part of media arts schools in Canada

Honestly? 

I think I'm in good company

I was never a big Star Wars fan 

but there is something quite profound 

that sticks around still ...

Good luck my friends 

and may "the force" be with you

w h i s t l e  b l o w e r

all around me are familiar faces
worn out places, worn out faces
bright and early for the daily races
going nowhere, going nowhere
their tears are filling up their glasses
no expression, no expression
hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
no tomorrow, no tomorrow

and I find it kind of funny, i find it kind of sad
the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
i find it hard to tell you,
i find it hard to take
when people run in circles its a very, very
mad world

stealing serenity

send your dreams where nobody hides

give your tears 

to tide

it's nothing really - just another sound bite 
but on a different channel in analog - yet another proprietary file conversion 
that you'll need to decode
manually

 
with the right downloaded software 
you can access it, with a plug-in 
on the internet


no time

and so
some of us arrive in our moment of clarity, sensing the approach

sometimes after a long wait - the visitation

all too often when we're least

expecting it

here it comes again



s t e a l i n g   s e r e n i t y 
 

there's no end
there's no goodbye
disappear
with the night

i'm optimistic

for the first time in my life in a long long while

it's because i waited patiently

and life is going my way

again 

kids these daze

in all those circles - square boxes and triangles

the mathematical shapes - that define us

there are variations on a common theme  
ok - there's one really simple basic

we're alive for a short time

conscious for a moment
in the blink of an 
eye 


open wide then shut tight 


like OMG, what-IF?   like ... whatever duh


we are watched though - i don't like that part
by those with an agenda
hungry for meat and 
potential

a carcass to chew on 
in a memorex memory to caress


"mommy, there's a scary monster in my closet"
protect me - nose bleed mommy
falling ... WTF

 we become distracted then afraid - detached

from all this imperfect information

on how to proceed - the steps
until we stagnate in a life
we learn to hate 
all too short 
empty

no time
persisting in our quest

still trying to jam that square peg into a round hole

over and over again, because

it's what we're taught to do
in our rigorous training

only it never works


that familiar voice returns
and awakens us
again 


but staying clear and focused
requires too much
effort


and hurts too much 

misinformation 


and so ... we keep jamming/hammering away

knowing full well that it's futile

that it will never fit right 

administrating adversity
and finding it


finally


the dust settles
and we find
ourselves 

peeling away the layers of dead skin
the protection mechanisms
that failed us
  

the gratuitous gradients, the billions of new colours

that we tried to access, but couldn't until now

because we wouldn't

allow them 

 IN


how long will this one last? 

regardless

the transition from black and white into color
is something i'd recommend for anyone

who wants to really live



s t e a l i n g   s e r e n i t y 

 

send your dreams where nobody hides

give your tears 

to tide

there's no end
there's no goodbye
disappear
with the night

counting the casualties
krazy karma
kills 

it's like saying something to someone 
you hold dearly and regretting it after 
been there done that!


no time 

ghost

there's a marker in a grave yard
a ghost - haunting me

G. J. (Jim) LaMarche
1925 - 2002

it's a flat stone in a back corner where other lost souls rest in peace
in Woodslee Ontario, where dad lived in his last five years on this earth
it's about the size of an internet banner ad that flashes
flash shit on the screen - pulling you in, and yet
leaving you feeling - empty after
a few seconds - in a life 
still here

let's just say that there's a whole new level
of appreciation going on here

this is a story about my dad
who i miss and still appreciate - on a primal level
he's what i had to work with - and i made the best of it

because - that's just what you do 
he was a fragmented father figure and i loved him
still do


.
 

i found his ashes in 2005, after some soul searching, going there
asking questions - his previous landlord whom he had left his modest nest-egg to
i hadn't seen him in years - but just before mom died in 2004 - she told us to find him
and so - i did (better late than never)

the dust settling on a hot July afternoon there in 2005, exercising discomfort
finding him 6 feet under - nothing but a photo-album
most of the pictures missing - pulled out
but a few remaining


g h o s t
 

 G.J. (Jim) LaMarche

i had visited him there, first in Belle River, then Windsor
and then in Woodslee, where he lived in a tiny apartment
in an older building on the main intersection
of a town where tumbleweeds roll

where there was always
an underfed dog just
hanging around
in a swarm
of flys

i was always really uncomfortable there
like we were supposed to interact a certain way
in some sort of scenerio
devised by division

in doggy-doo 


circumcised by
definition


choreographed in derision


slow torture

 

mom finally left dad in 1966 in Woodstock and took us 
(my younger brother David and I) with her
it was a brutal relationship
he was absent
gone

and when he was around
he was miserable

she got really sick (almost died then - cancer/surgery) 
and he took us and moved us away from her - way south
with a woman we didn't know - an old girlfriend in a bad marriage

an "affair" he had previously
years earlier - whatever

"Ag (Agnes) is your new mom now"
what??  no way!  ok ... wow
getting a say in that
NOT

we were stripped of any contact with mom, who found us
bringing us back - abandoning him/her 6 years later
dad's story - we had no choice
really

i mean - there was a time after leaving Woodstock
when we didn't even know if she was alive or not
all part of the plan 


years pass 



Agnes is history
dumped her into the garbage just after we left
used and abused - all too
familiar 


years pass
 

Woodslee Ontario is one of those places 
where those who don't know where to go - go
because it's on the map and has a convenience store within walking distance
all the essentials - a gas station which is also a tavern and local watering hole


paradise

it's a mutt-dive but multi-tasking as a "muff-dive"
ok a "re-fill" station on a number of levels
attracting regulars at the crack of noon 
the same handful of guys every day

arriving at the same vacuous time
like clockwork - for a couple
of beers and a story
about something
gone wrong

no real pleasure and yet no pain either
that's - the deal-maker - the perfect get-away
(and all very affordable) 

it's all in the plan


there's even a church, town ID signs 
and a grave yard, just on the outskirts of town
a 5 minute walk away
all about 5km south of Belle River - his previous romp
drifting there in default - even further away
no phone, no mailbox even


remote recording

 

this is an open letter to you dad

years later - what i've realized now that i didn't get then
because i was pre-occupied and distracted
just like you were

you loved the water
it was in your blood and carried forward
raised in a poor religious home in Woodstock Ontario
growing up in the great depression and leaving early
because your father beat you

"belt strappings - buckle in"  
as you constantly reminded us as kids - scared of our own shadows


needing to get out


joining the army because it was the thing to do
making a place for yourself in a world of warnings and woe
returning home with a new-found sense of independence
only it wasn't yours - it was borrowed - stolen


not yours to take


now with 2 really sad, alienated kids
who have no idea what the fuck

is going on

when we arrived in Stoney Point

you had lost all direction in life - having depended on a woman
who you abused emotionally after marrying her - because you had no idea
what was going on - other than the fact that you were alive
and following your nose to the next sweet'n sour smell
and then the next

collecting store sale flyers
and driving from store to store for the best deal
to save a buck

dragging your sons along because you needed them as collateral
a way to dignify your recalcitrant deportation 
it was something we lived inside for years - still do
without you


g h o s t



 finding inspiration in a fish we caught on Lake St Clair
in early spring - on a line we left out overnight
tied to a pole on the dock - all stuff we found
beach-combing - maybe a worm dug
out of the ground for bait

that carp giving a good fight
pulling it in with no rod, just line out
beaching the sucker


before killing it



then there were the rituals
all for show - following

the formula 








 

you sent us to sunday-school - why


religion was a curse - but marketable nonetheless
you hated it but played with it

because it was the right thing to do - only you didn't identify
never coming with us to church - all part of the plan to impress the courts
shared rides with neighbours and the perfect photo-op picture that you
took to impress the system - those who can sway a custody decision your way
and put that bitch away - for good


didn't work daddy
we got hurt - really hurt
you sir, are a trickster

a ghost
 

earlier on

your friends playing the game just like you did
in the early 60's when you were on a roll 
gratuitous golf touraments on a business tab
that fake fishing trip - with those who identified
with your pretend purpose - hanging on to something
that still means something - married and shit
all the baggage that qualified your existence as a 

normal man





 

finding her - marrying a woman
you didn't understand - but she's pretty
and she likes to fish - good cook and overall pretty good lay
knocking her up first - a no brainer
abortion not an option then
in 1956 - Sudbury

ok, mom's a spitfire
unlike most women at the time
because she expressed herself
especially if she didn't like something
coming with some self-realization
a consciousness

it's not something you planned on but surfacing over time  
just wishing she would roll over and shut up, late at night in bed
asking questions and not wanting
to answer them

always distractions

 
constant comparisons to what looks better
the suit you wear, the car you drive
how your woman behaves 

shit like that



"you can always tell a man by the car he drives"


an important lesson that i learned early on
back when i was still innocent
and not questioning

what he said
because - he's your dad
and he knows everything

success measured in the money you have
and how you present yourself
nothing else really matters


or does it



?

 
"it's all about snagging the snatch and grab"

it's like being in a bad Hollywood caper B movie
only the heist taking place in the present

the perfect package - a combination of corrections
incubated in an insular set of ideas
that have nothing to do
with what's real

always out to catch the big fish
and then show it off
to everyone


it's an ego thing
 

ok, strong egos "define" positive change - a sense of purpose 
it's a benevolence towards humanity - whereas
BIG egos seek power without thinking of others  
in mischievous malevolence

guess you missed that chapter in the book of life
didn't really need to read that one because
of it's irrelevance (don't need to know that)

ah northern ontario
my home






 

ok,  it's NOT really necessary to KNOW certain things

i mean - ok

you can get by - by skimming the surface 
fudging the facts - tripping the light - buffing the bishop
making the right impression - cracking the code
  creating a facade and all without having to do any of the real work


that my friend ... is how it's done
just wake up and smell the roses


i read it in a magazine advertisement
on a train to no-where when i was sleeping peacefully
in total denial

success - is just an illusion
and happiness is all about how you look 
in a world that is willfully ignorant
of what's really important
anyway 



you can live in a shack
but being IN the loop
 
is showing up in a Cadillac





 





it's crazy
 

regardless of what has happened
i surrender - something i wish you could have done
let go of all the shit that entangles us
confusion … chaos

it's almost incestuous
like it's something that get's passed on without our knowing it
like it's something we're supposed to carry forward
because it's our "duty" to

g h o s t

 i can't do this anymore

i love you and i am clicking
the "unsubscribe button"

all said and done, i'm thinking
thinking that maybe - just maybe
it could have all been all

so different


real art is seeing/hearing
something new every time you
take it in 

something you never got
to appreciate because

no one showed it
to you

goodbye daddy






.