Our American cousins overwhelm us. Ninety percent of Canadians live within 200 miles of the Canada/USA border. We are inundated with news about the USA and what it is doing. Magazines, movies, TV shows and books spread their culture like cloying syrup over our small population base. They know little about us and yet know that, we in general, are a friendly nation to the north. They went wild when Flora Macdonald organized the escape of the American hostages from the Middle East. They are good neighbors and are our largest trading partner. Americans pride them selves on doing big things in big ways. But big is not always best.

There is a very old Chinese expression, "You cannot drive a nail, no matter how small, into a log, no matter how big, without weakening it."

There is an old song from the USA, "Little Things Mean A Lot."

Canada has done some big things in a big way, but generally we take pride in doing little things in a quiet way. It is true that the Canadian nails we drive into that huge log of world suffering are often small. We know instinctively that, if we persist in driving our small nails into that log, it will someday split asunder. Let me recount the story of two very small Canadian nails that have made a difference to two people you have never heard of in far away places that you have probably never been.

Many Canadians were involved, directly and indirectly, and many "nails" like these are being pounded into the log of poverty and suffering by many, many "quiet" Canadians. The two countries involved, Vietnam and Nepal, are not of great consequence in Canada's geopolitical plans, nor are they big trading partners. Nevertheless, we Canadians care enough to reach out our hands in compassion to those who suffer there and in many other Third World places. We ask nothing in return and we act in away that allows those less fortunate to maintain their dignity. These stories will never be on the media, but you and I know that they are about how our Canadian pioneer culture has taught us to help our neighbors when we can.

Ho Chi Minh City, (formerly Saigon) Vietnam. Number One Pediatrics Hospital ~ Burn Unit.

A nameless Canadian from a Canadian NGO (Non Government Organization) was delivering donated Canadian medical equipment. In one of the wards, was an eleven-year-old girl, burnt black from the tops of her tiny feet clear up to her chin. The black skin was cracked and dry. The hospital had no burn ointment to easy the horrible pain this child was suffering every time she moved. She hurt so much that she could not even cry.

The Canadian flew back to Calgary the next day and immediately went to the Foothills Hospital Burn Unit and asked for help for this poor child. Without question, a case of (very expensive) burn ointment was donated. The case was large and heavy, so a wheelchair was dragooned to transport the salve to the far end of the parking lot, where it was labeled and taped and placed onto the front seat of the car. To save time, the Wheelchair was folded and tossed into the trunk, intended to be returned the next day. The car raced to the airport to load the salve onto an Air Canada flight to Vancouver, where it was transferred to Cathay Pacific who took it on to Saigon. No payment was asked for and Customs waved it through. In Saigon that little girl's pain was relieved and she lived, plus there was a three month supply of Burn Ointment for other child burn victims. Total cost $0.00 (One small nail in the log.)

The Wheelchair accidentally turned out to be the second nail.

During all this activity and rushing about, the Wheelchair lay forgotten in the trunk of the car for about six weeks. A delivery of +/- $25,000 of surgical instruments, donated by the Holy Cross Hospital nurses (the hospital was being closed), was being prepared when the Wheelchair was re-discovered. It was decided to use it to help smuggle the large box of VERY expensive surgical instruments into Nepal. Oh yes, smuggling the donated goods into corrupt countries is part of helping those at the bottom of the heap.

In Nepal the box of instruments was loaded into the Wheelchair and the Canadian, feigning leg problems, limped up to the Custom agent and was asked "what in box?" The Canadian replied, "It's for me legs sir. I've come to see the Buddha. Would you happen to have a few spare Rupees for an old soldier? I'm needing a beer." With a look of disgust, the agent waved him through. The surgical tools were given to a hospital in Katmandu that was in desperate need of them. The Wheelchair was taken to an orphanage where an elderly Nun was house bound. She had spent her life working with these poor children, but could not finish her last days in the yard amongst her charges. She was placed in the wheelchair and taken to the playground where the children cheered and she cried.

Little things mean a lot!

Signed; the Galloping Geezer
Jack C. Downey CD
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