7th October 2013

I've finally left the Bay Area, all be it a little later than planned thanks to a bout of sickness and find myself in Eugene, Oregon. I've talked about the stoop by the hostel I stayed at in San Francisco in earlier blog posts and today's post goes back there... 

I met so many people there all with a different story to tell but as I reflect on the goings on I find myself thinking about a young Canadian man I met there from Saskatchewan, “right in the middle [of Canada]” as he so aptly described it. His name was Sterling, I found this out only after mistakenly suggesting he might have Scots or Irish roots (I suspect knowing his name would have done little to shake this misapprehension), it turned out he wasn't and was in fact a little Hungarian and the rest Cree Indian. A quick check on Wikipedia reveals the Cree are one of the largest remaining Native American tribe, at around 200,000 strong which seems like quite a few more than I'd guesstimated... He had strong features and dark auburn hair with freckled skin and noble green eyes. His voice, soft and scratchy was self deprecating and manner, almost old fashioned.


It turns out he's here to skate, not like the other “skaters” I've met on the stoop who are to be found across San Francisco and the state of California. Instead Sterling skates on ice, chasing a puck at breakneck speed in the game of ice hockey. He was visiting San Francisco to try out for a professional team. On hearing this news I naively asked if it was with the NHL (the main ice hockey league in North America). He looked a little embarrassed by my enquiry and named a different league that I hadn't heard of. Scrabbling to move onto more solid ground I suggested a parallel between the league he was joining and AAA baseball (the level beneath the major leagues in baseball), he agreed with this comparison and was assured by everyone around's insistence that this was still a big deal.


It turns out this was Sterling's second try out, coming to San Francisco by way of Miami. I asked how this had gone, to which he replied “pretty good”. Sounds promising thinks I and suggest he'll have less pressure on this time round given this would be his second try out and he'd have a better idea what to expect. He answered “sure, no pressure”. Now I was confused... This young man who seemed so humble just moments ago was equipped with vein filled with liquid nitrogen, “no pressure”? The slow, soothing cadence of Sterling's voice was interspersed with lengthy gaps and it is only now with hindsight I realise the pause that followed this latest uttering was one of them. After what seemed like minutes he went on... “I figured now I've seen Miami and they've offered me a contract I'd come here. The flight was paid so I thought I why not?” The light switched on... he was so understated the offer of a contract only merited “pretty good”!


This humble aspect of Sterling struck me (obviously - I'm writing about it in my blog), I think it reflected a very different perspective on life he has vs. most of the people I met in day to day life – accepting most of its been spent in cities. We talked for quite a while and he described life in northern Saskatchewan within Native American culture. He'd spent sometime working on the tar sands which were the first real employment opportunity that'd been available to him. But life without the tar sands growing up had been tough... He was raised with his siblings by his mum, a challenge in itself but Saskatchewan doesn't have many people, especially up north, the landscape is flat - covered in forests, lakes and tundra the winters are bitter and long. It was listening to this life I realised the reason I was so fascinated wasn't some romanticised notion of life in the wilderness, it was the way he reminded me of my father who's manner so similar. He too choses his words carefully and would wish no ill will on another sole but this quiet nature is underpinned with a steely will. It made sense to me that Saskatchewan, Canada and The Isle of Lewis, Scotland could produce two such similar souls, I suppose they're rare in the western world as there are fewer edges of real wilderness within our environs – perhaps none remain in Scotland? My father may have been the last of his kind, and Sterling for that matter too with the Tar Sands bringing money and people and change may be the last of his kind from Canada too?


Its interesting, the tar sands didn't really seem to trigger even a flicker in Sterling when he mentioned it. This in part might be a function of his own naivety or perhaps its simply the fact that a job that pays good money where opportunities are so scarce trumps everything? Certainly these played some part but the concerted efforts of the Canadian government to censure scientists rights of free speech. Via strict control of all research funding made available by government and private industry the Canadian government cherry picks projects that will support industrial interests (this isn't isolated to the Canadian government – take a look at George Monbiot's article on it http://www.monbiot.com/2013/09/30/age-of-unreason/). Over time the narrow band of opinion expressed by scientists that is broadly supportive of exploitation of the tar sands, arctic drilling, fracking or whatever else it may be seeps into public consciousness via whatever media channels they're plugged into. Its another case in point of how few of our opinions are formed in an unbiased environment. Science is so often reduced to a debating point in public debate hosted by the press that can stand or fall based on opinion as opposed to cold hard analysis of test results that must be comprehensive if they are to support anything pertaining to be science. We just get normalised to some much stuff, and ironically its perhaps most difficult to see in in ourselves...



Sterling's history reminded me of something that John Curl (the godfather of coops in the Bay Area and writer of one of the best books on coops and American history I've read: For All the People). When I asked him about why had the Bay Area had enjoyed a thriving ecosystem of coops in part of his answer (the answer consisting of a number of combinatory factors) he reminded me that the United States was populated with the descendants of pretty intrepid people who've been arriving in this vast nation for more than two hundred years. Only the most fearless members of communities in Europe and Asia travelled to the states and most African Americans had to survive the passage from Africa aboard slaver's vessels. This meant they one and all share some optimistic / survivalist component of their DNA / make-up. California is a microcosm of the US in this context and has over the last hundred or so years seen the arrival of frontiers people ready to work hard and innovate. Be it the gold rush, the summer of love, or silicon valley. Sterling had something of the frontiersman about him. And although his brand was perhaps more authentic I've met many others who like him share that intrepid nature here. Where his grandfather had traded in the deep interior of Canada with Cree Indian, and now he travelling down to San Francisco to play hockey... I'm beginning to understand why Americans don't hold passports. Why would you when a new life and a fresh start lies just one state away and there are 50 to choose from, all speak english and all accept dollars. Its easy, and I'm now here in Eugene, Oregon for my latest fresh start...