Survivor mania

So, It’s time to reveal something. I’m a big Survivor fan. I know many roll their eyes and lament about the takeover of reality television (and in some cases I have to agree that they really are sometimes the visual equivalent to a train wreck), but Survivor has always been near and dear to my heart. Not that I’m trying to say it’s never a train wreck, because…well, it often is. But, it’s my kind of train wreck, and so with bated breath and wide eyes I watch it, season after season, greeting, loving, cheering, jeering and often then forgetting the characters after their several cumulative hours of fame. It almost feels like an addiction, and I’m not ready for survivors annonymous…well, not yet anyway.

I read the write-up for the first season, before it aired, in a newspaper in a claustrophobic little cubicle at a thankless telemarketing job I had, because…well…I had no skills it was a job. Seriously, I did not choose it for the glamour, it was soul sucking. One can only be told “no”, “go away”, “@*&%”, etc. so many times in a day before it gets to you, but that is material for another post. Anyway, sitting there, reading about a game where you could win a million dollars (oh, yeah) and get to travel to exotic places (uh huh!) and get to be on TV (FAME! a.k.a the exact opposite of speaking to multitudes of people who hate you daily) was a dream come true. I knew I had to watch it. Then, I promptly forgot about it.

I wasn’t really in touch with what was on TV at the time (and things haven’t changed much in that regard) but when I channel hopped one night and landed on Survivor I was instantly hooked. I think I liked the human social experiment of it most, but it also had the ghost of possible danger, required skillsets including social savvy, physical strength or brain power that many just did not have, desert islands, and even better, almost always at least one crazy person, sometimes several.

This past season Survivor: Caramoan — Fans vs. Favorites had its share of crazy, but in the end ***************Spoiler alert**************Stop reading if you don’t want to know************that *****Cochran won and it just made me glad. I kind of can’t help myself but root for the underdog on Survivor, and although Cochran played a solid game that didn’t put him into this position much once things got going, I loved that his advancement came simply because he wasn’t a typical looking threat. Perhaps one day people will see brains for the threat they are instead of just focusing on brawn, but it does work to ones advantage when avoiding the ever wandering target of who will be next to get their torch extinguished. Plus, to see Cochran back, since he was a favorite of mine in the Survivor South Pacific season, until he got the boot, had me stoked, so to see him later win it was just that much better.

So, as this Survivor season draws to an end I can’t help but get a little sad. But eventually that will be replaced by excitement over what will be coming up next in the following season, Survivor: Blood vs Water. I’m still not too sure how this one will play out, but I will definitely be looking forward to the ride. There is some internet chatter that it might put relatives against each other, which could add an interesting element.

I also would love to see the following brought out in future seasons:

Survivor Celebrity

Sure, it kinda worked for Australian Survivor, but I think it would be interesting if the North American one I know and love gave it a try. Pitting the zany kings and divas from the A list and Z list together to raise money for charity or against past survivor champs would be an interesting matchup with the added bonus that fans get to potentially see what their fave celeb is really like. I think if they got the right people, ratings could go nuts.

Let Canadians on Survivor

Let Canadians play! Ok. I might have a vested interest in this one…maybe…eh?

So, what do you think? Are you a fan? Do you hate it? Have a show idea that would rock? I’d love to hear it, if only to draw out a few more awesome moments of my Survivor mania!

High Ground – Review

High ground, a 2012 movie by Michael Brown, is a moving journey of hope, determination and the human spirit. In it we follow 11 injured U.S. veterans who attempt to climb Mount Lobuche, a huge Himalayan mountain that soars to 20,000 feet. With people such as blind mountaineer, Erik Weihenmayer, to support them, we watch as a blind vet, a soldiers mom, some with prosthetic legs, and many with Post Traumatic Stress (PTS) and/or Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) or other invisible scars accept a challenge of a lifetime. This troupe shows just how much they can overcome when they are willing to test their limits.

As they share their stories you learn more about their individual journeys and how isolated and lost many have felt since leaving the service. It’s also made clear how hard it can be to cope with everyday existence after serving your country in combat. Although many can relate to feeling isolated and misunderstood, most will differ in the level of death and violence that they were constantly exposed to.There are many similarities between the military and mountaineering, as one of the climbers explains, including running drills, learning safety procedures and having to count on your team, and it’s nice to see some of them begin to bond and smile as they regain a sense of camaraderie. Although the movie does touch on some darker aspects, there is something amazing about watching them accept this challenge. There is a tremendous depth of courage in all of them, and as just one example, when one was told he would never walk again he managed to not only beat those odds, but also go one better and attempt to climb a mountain.

So if you are looking for absolutely stunning cinematography and some personal stories about those who never give up and are willing to continually test their limits, this might just be for you. Here’s a clip:

Little Princes by Conor Grennan – Review

I recently finished reading Little Princes: One man’s promise to bring home the lost children of Nepal by Conor Grennan and was quite impressed with both the work being done and the honesty of the writing. It’s not that often that you can read a book about charities and child trafficking and find yourself laughing on a regular basis, but Conor’s great sense of humor and wit really keeps a person immersed in the story and helps to balance the subject matter with some healthy doses of positivity, making it one of those books I didn’t want to put down. Should you decide to pick this up, as an added bonus, sales of the book also go to support Next Generation Nepal.

The story follows Connor as he decides to take a year off for traveling the world, and begins this journey by working in a children’s home in Nepal. This plan wasn’t really thought out as a civil war was going on at the time, and Connors motivation had nothing to do with working with children and mostly to do with telling people (namely women) that he had worked with children in an overseas charity. Although he was figuring this experience was going to make for a fantastic pick up line, he did not anticipate how much going to Nepal was going to change his life.

Learning to deal with kids was one thing, but finding out that they weren’t “real” orphans was quite another. What Connor learned was that human traffickers were working in the remote villages of Nepal, convincing poor farmers to send their children off with them by promising the kids a better life with food, education and a chance to escape being drafted into the civil war which commonly was taking children as conscripts. Parents didn’t just send their children away though, they also paid the trafficker large sums of money, often bankrupting themselves for this “opportunity”. Once the trafficker took the children across the country, they would profit from them in any way they could or dump them into illegal orphanages that could often barely keep them alive, thus ensuring that these kids would likely never see their parents again, and the scam could continue.

Some of these children were rescued and made it into NGO orphanages, like the one Connor worked in, but knowing that their families were out there, Connor took it upon himself to try to find a way to reunite these children with their loved ones, and to try to stop the cycle by educating the families about what was actually happening. Little Princes is truly an inspirational read, and shows how far people will go when they realize the amazing differences that they can make.

Worst In Show – Review

And now for something soft, warm and hideous! Worst in show (2011) is a documentary by John T. Beck and Don R. Lewis that takes a close look at the bizarre world of ugly dog shows, focusing specifically on the quest for the title of Worlds Ugliest Dog, held in Petaluma, California, each year. It offers an interesting blend of humour, ego, competitiveness and other typical owner attributes for dog showing (or any kind of competitive pageant in my opinion), and combines it with a strange cocktail of sympathy, love and disgust. Let me explain.

                                               

You see, it’s easy to look at some of these dogs and shrink back in horror, but it’s not necessarily due to the fact that the dog is ugly (and although there are some doozy’s, like Sam, the 2003-2005 winner below, I find most of them just oddly cute) it’s more about the obvious disfigurement of the pooch in question due to weird types of defects that make your stomach kind of quiver. As with any kind of freak show, there is a fine line that is being walked. Although at times I was a bit horrified at some of the deformities, which is kind of hard for any animal lover to see, the show does take precautions, such as mandatory vet checkups pre show, to screen out those that are in need of care or are victims of neglect. And although some of these guys look a little….hit by a truck, they are fighters that will take (and give) a lickin’ and keep on keeping on, just happy that someone loves them. If a vet is happy with their health, then I see nothing wrong with it, but I still reserve the right to be a bit squeamish.

Now, I’ve always held dear the strange and freaky, and although unconventional, all deserve to find a forever home (read Homer’s Odyssey: A Fearless Feline Tale, Or, How I Learned about Love and Life with A Blind Wonder Cat for a great read on why they should). I think it’s great that there is a platform that exists that people can be proud of a pup with a hint of the strange, and to come together as a community to show off their differences. However, it’s not just the dogs that make me squeamish,  sometimes it’s the other part of that community, the owners.

Not all of the owners of course, but there are a fanatical few who seem to have a bit of the wild eye behind their pasted on smiles, or somehow seem to not really get what the pageant is about. There’s something kid of creepy there. Honestly, it’s not all that different from any regular beauty pageant, which I find equally creepy, (but honestly have no experience with – although I did watch Little Miss Sunshine, if that counts for anything) and although it might seem that this might be somehow making fun of or exploiting the beauty challenged pooch, regardless of the owners quests for glory, the dogs themselves sometimes just seem to be happy to be there. Or look a little dazed and confused. Or cold, and scared – but maybe that’s just what excitement looks like on the intense little face of a Chinese crested, the breed that typically wins this thing. For the stoic and the socialized, I think this is a great opportunity to be out and about with adoring fans, but for the shy or timid dog, it doesn’t look as fun.

There is something lovely about people being able to see past the societal ugly (and sometimes you have to look hard) to the beauty and spirit of the dogs inside. All dogs deserve to be loved, and if you love them, it comes naturally that you want to be able to be proud and show them off, and in Worst In Show, show them off they did. It’s hard to not want to root for them, and since many are rescues, it also is a testament to the people who saw them as they were, and gave them a chance, willing to love them anyway, squinting, tongue hanging and awkward gaits aside. The other interesting thing to watch is how these dogs shape the lives of the owners, which ranges from making this a career and meeting celebrities, to finding love, finding community and personal support, all from the bonds of their dogs, sometimes leaving it up to the viewer to describe who rescued who. It goes to show, no matter what Quasimodoish thing is on the outside, it’s always what’s inside that counts. And every dog, no matter how ugly, should always get its day.

Here’s a clip:

My dirty nodey little secret

So, all the comments and traffic from my blogging in the closet post have been making me feel that I should maybe reconsider my don’t talk about yourself rule. I’ve mostly broken this by slipping personal posts into my writing category, so I’m tempted to occasionally keep that up since that kind of writing can be both therapeutic and fun. Now, I do not mean to actually go so far as to list my name and picture (Am I a 14 year old girl or 80 year old man? You decide!) but I have been struggling a bit with a kind of dirty little secret that only 2 people in my life know about…so I figure…why not just jump in and start with that?! Forget toe wiggling in water personal stuff, I’m gonna cannonball! (Being able to swim might help-but I’ll worry about that later…) Alright…here it goes:

Once upon a time, in 2010 I went to the doctor and she made a slightly scrunchy  concerned face while feeling my neck. She quickly explained that the reason for the scrunchy face was that she felt something that seemed mass-like under my skin and thought it would be good to get some imaging done. Oh boy! Perhaps it’s not scrolling yellow text on a starry background, but it is my dirty secrets back story, and so my considerably unepic journey had begun. Dah Dah! De dah de dah dah! Node wars! Starring your hero Hans Solo/Princess Leia like Livesinstone (Liv to all their fans…both cats agree and are working on pronunciation), who in reality may actually be more like a Jabba the Chewy cross but whateves. Was I getting off track there again? Who me? Oh yeah…dirty little secret…

Really, it wasn’t a long or epic journey, and I know I’m blowing it out of proportion, but I found it a bit harrowing. My imaging showed a mass of about 3 cm (just over an inch for you non metric people) in my neck, but apparently the biopsy (uh, ouchie!) I went to after that confirmed it was a sleeper and although it had moved into the neighbourhood of my thyroid (and officially is refered to as a thyroid nodule) it wasn’t interested in campaigning for a takeover. And my mind, the obnoxious jerk that it is, can’t help but echo, “Yet” over and over like someone coming out of a bad dream in a movie from the 80’s. So, being the doer that I am, I asked what the next step was. I was told to wait and see. Huh. I felt like a small planet with the death star orbiting it. Sure, it’s not shooting at you, so just let it float around, it’s harmless! Waiting and seeing sucks.

It was at this point I probably should have shared this with friends and family. But I didn’t. I needed to forget about it, and the more time passed, the harder it was to just toss that into the conversation. So, I left it, saving it for “the right time”(there never is one). And although it bugged me, I mostly was able to forget that the death star was orbiting my head. Doing some reading on it helped as I found that nodules were quite common and mostly benign. Mostly is good, I should be satisfied with mostly, and mostly, I am. Unless I think about it.

Fast forward to my brief lapse of blogging this past winter in which a similarly fiendish family crisis occurred when a similar such mass showed up in the brain of one of my parents. Due to seizures, which looked a lot like a stroke and indicated it was there in the first place, the doctors this time wanted to cut it out of said parent, so surgery ensued. Even though all was swell(ish) and happy jingles in time for Christmas, it was hard to watch someone you love go through. This kind of emotional roller coaster really sucked to ride on, particularly when I had to put my 13 year old cat down during the middle of it (he was also visited by the cancer fairy) and perhaps made all the more poignant while knowing that I had a ticking time bomb (or lazy leech?) in my neck. I had previously been working up to the “Hey Mom and Dad, I have a node” speech, but the time was never right, and considering the situation at hand, this definitely t’wasn’t the best time and there now probably never would be one. Even now, several months later, my parents recovery is still working its slow process back to full health, and I’m left with this stupid secret that makes me feel just a wee bit dirty for not sharing. And at the same time somewhat deludedly heroic for letting the worry of the death star fall on my own shoulders. See how lucky you now are? You now know my dirty nodey little secret. How’s that for bloggy good fun? I think I might feel 5 pounds lighter already…

And so, after the hospital visits had come to a close, a nugget (ok, a nodule) of worry began to worm its ugly little way into my thinking. What if I was next? What if that quaint little experience (thank God it was free here in Canada, for both my parent and my imaging and biopsy we only ever have to pay for drugs after we leave the hospital and nary a needle or bandage is charged to us– to have to have paid for that privilege or having been unable to pay would have raised the trauma factor by about a gazillion) was looking for a repeat performance. On me. Or more specifically, my neck. Because what’s better than having your family gather around you and getting your throat purposely slashed and tubes shoved down there so you can still breathe? And you only get to communicate with meaningful Hollywood style looks and hand squeezes. OK. I have no idea if that is true (and hopefully it isn’t), but damned if that wasn’t what the macabre little muse in my head tells me it would be like. See, I’m cut out for horror writing, my head just works that way. And so, after all the stress of the previous months, I couldn’t handle the suspense.

So, again, to the doc. Considering my obvious worry (yup, hysterical crying was part of that lovely visit – apparently since I missed doing that in the hospital previously I had a backlog that unleashed itself over confessing uttering the word “node” to another human being. Fortunately, it was just for the benefit of an intern, who did an impressive job of turning her shock and bewilderment at my sudden outburst in stride. And as she beat a hasty, yet professional, retreat, I managed to put my brave face back on for the doctor’s actual portion of that gong show visit. Yup, that’s me, thoughtfully getting interns ready for crazy since…well, that day) I was told it was an ok time to check into things, since about 2 years had passed.

So I went. They imaged. The image taker was kind, considering I had to lie on a pillow with my shoulders so my neck could stick out to get a really good picture, which left my head free to kind of dangle towards the bed. And so, I was perfectly positioned (yet completely upside down) to see the screen while she worked. And while the imager didn’t say it, I saw how she measured first one big spot (hello nodey!), and then another littler spot. Um, er, WTF?! I was able to put two and two together. Lovely, looks like nodey has a new neighbour! But instead of asking the imagist, since I really didn’t want to know (as much as I really did want to know) I just stared real hard at the screen, practicing my mental powers of paint shop where I scrubbed that off the screen, or turned it into a smiley face. Then we were done. I waited for the light-headedness from the awkward position to pass, put on my shirt and beelined out the door.

Results came back and the prognosis was as I thought. New node. It’s smaller than the last one, so still nothing they can do. I was told again to wait and see, but this time, come back in 5-6 months. Hopefully it will go away, or stay the same, or maybe then I’ll have a whole partridge family (thanks sadistic mind of mine!) of nodules singing “I think I love you” (yup, that was the song playing in the car from the Copycat movie – did my crazy mind just compare nodes with serial killers? I think it did). So, what have I learned from this and being the somewhat type 1 personality that I am? Waiting and seeing sucks.

So, this is why I’ve been inundating myself, and by default you, to health video reviews. More of those may come (you really only have got the tip of the iceberg there), but since I keep finding the same common theme (eat plant-based diets, try Gerson, juice redonkulous amounts of veggies) I’m not sure you really want to hear more about it. I realize that the doctors said to just wait, but I need to focus on being pro-active to sooth my savage mind, and so far the only pro-active stuff I can find seems to be alternative therapy, which is mostly unrecognized by the medical community – cuz sure, that’ll work.

I realize I probably now sound like a dingbat. And I’m over reacting. (I’m not sure under reacting is my style.) So, what am I doing to distract myself while I wait ‘til May 1st, the approximate 5 and a bit month middle marker when I go back to see how nodey and friend is doing? I officially tried being vegan for one day, successfully, but I’m not quite prepared for that step. So, instead I’ve went with slightly less hard core lacto-ovo vegetarian diet, which I will try for a month (alternating with vegan when I can manage it and figure out how to eat healthily doing so) until test time with hopes that little nodey goes back home to hades. I figure worst case scenario I might get healthier and save a few animals along the way (which I always kind of wanted to do but lacked appropriate nodey motivation). I’m also going to give fresh juicing a try as a supplement. And hope. And wait and see.

Waiting and seeing sucks.

Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead – Review

With a title as cheeky as Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead you would expect this documentary by Joe Cross to be an amusing look at his personal experience, which it was. What I didn’t expect, however, was the level of heart and inspiration that also came with this film, making it one of my favorite health centred films to date.

The storyline follows Joe, a 310 lb man who suffers from an autoimmune disorder called chronic urticaria (chronic hives), on his journey across the U.S. while he undertakes a self-imposed juice fast for 60 days (I know! Seems a little crazy, right?) to see if he could lose weight, get off the pills and to reboot his health. But this isn’t your run of the mill pick-up-an-orange-juice-at-your-local-convenience-store kind of juice fast. He actually carries his juicer in the back of his vehicle and makes fresh juice from a myriad of primary coloured veggies and fruit every day.

Joe’s journey, which was occasionally illustrated with some cute cartoons, was remarkable and often amusing as he spent his time getting man on the street reactions while he talked up Americans about health, food and his juice fast. If this was where the movie ended, as one expects it would, I would have placed it in the enjoyable, yet somewhat typical category of the nutrition based films I’ve been watching as of late.

However, when he gets a call from Phil, a 429 lb truck driver he met along the way who also suffers from the same disease and wants to change his life, the show switches from good to great. Phil’s journey really steals the show.

So, if you are interested in health ideas about the power of juice, and looking to be inspired, this film won’t disappoint. Here’s a trailer:

If you live in the US, the film is also available to watch for free here.

The Protagonist – Review

The Protagonist, a 2007 documentary by Jessica Yu was both interesting, artsy and strange. The story basically consists of four men that aren’t particularly similar: a thief (Joe Loya), an “ex-gay” evangelist (Mark Pierpont), a German terrorist (Hans-Joachim Klein, who’s scenes are all subtitled), and a martial arts student with a sadistic trainer (Mark Salzman who is actually Director Jessica Yu’s spouse), all interspersed by puppets that occasionally play out the scenes the men describe or scenes from Greek playwright Euripides works. Yes, you did read that right. Puppets.

All the above sounds like it should be a mess, but somehow actually works its way into a fairly cohesive piece about the lives of these men and how they all went to different kinds of extremism in order to maintain control over their own personal conflicts. Interestingly enough, each manages to completely change their lives in a massive overcompensation to try to overcome their own personal childhood demons, often only to find that they had become the monster that they reviled.

You would think that there would be no need to add puppets to this, not to mention puppets playing out occasional scenes of Greek tragedy, but it ended up both complementing and adding another layer to the film in a way that worked. The violent scenes using puppets with red streamers to indicate blood was incredibly effective, and allowed a way of showing the action, giving the audience a break from the talking heads, and maintaining some distance from the violence described while keeping the emotional levels high.

Although I did flip-flop a bit in the beginning of the film, I think that The Protagonist did a great job of delving into the stories it told, and by stringing them together like the puppets themselves, it emphasizes how human conflict can be both individual and strikingly similar at the same time.

And for all those interested, here’s the trailer:

Max Ablitzer – Dark violin songs

I am a sucker for the violin. There is beauty to its soft and melancholy music that resonates with my soul. I love how the sombre tones speak to me, haunting melodies that somehow reach in deep, past the place of words, to something more organic, something emotionally primal. When I listen to music, I am often most taken by lyrics. With the violin, I tend to go for instrumental where there are no lyrics to get in the way. There is no one telling you what the song is about, you just have to feel it out for yourself, to interpret it to your own ends, to let it take hold of your emotions and transport or inspire you.

So, much to my delight, I’ve recently found another artist who does soft and melancholy on the violin and piano extremely well: Max Ablitzer.

Max’s music is a pleasure to listen to for all of the reasons listed above. If you like violin and piano that is dark and brooding or sweet and poignant this is the stuff for you. And if you want more he has his own YouTube page for free streaming, or to support the artist by purchasing his stuff you can both listen and buy on his website listed in the link above.

So, if you are interested, please find below a few of the ones I like the best. Who knows, maybe you will too.

Ghost song

Fog Song

Blogging in the closet – securely insecure

It’s interesting that the longer I have this blog, the more I want to write about personal stuff, which goes against my original mission statement of “I’m not going to talk about myself”. It’s strange to me that all I want to do sometimes is share with you the random things I thought about that day.Then, as I start to write it, I hear a voice in my head that cries “No! Stop this madness! You’re giving too much away. That portion of information could make you identifiable to some random person who will never probably look at this blog. And then what would they think?”

Well, then maybe I should just introduce myself. Tell the good people of blog land my name and post a picture. Perhaps my looks alone could get a few more followers…although it might be more likely that everyone will just run screaming to the unfollow button. I know there is one. I lost two followers within a day or two of each other once and started wondering what I did wrong. I then decided I was secure enough in my blog I didn’t care (while secretly hoping it was a glitch or they both closed their blogs or something). See how over it I am? See, I’m still talking about it, which proves I’m ok with it. Really. I was just like, “Pfft”. Yeah, Pfft!

So, since I’m so secure (which is what you should take away from the paragraph above. Remember pfft? Pfft = secure) why am I in the blogging closet? Why do I do this anonymously? Is it because I’m actually a Hollywood star and I’m worried about blog-aratzi? Or perhaps I’m a great writer who was published a gazillion times, and now I’m just checking to see if people actually think I’m any good, like Stephen King aka Richard Bachman? I wish. I mean…it’s complicated.

Or maybe it’s not complicated. Maybe it’s just that I’m trying to get out some writing without the bias that always come with a byline that tells you my gender and nationality. If I tell you who I am, would you hate me because I was a woman (who sometimes sounds like a dude)? Or am I just a man who likes unicorns (and zombies!) and is just comfortable enough with my girlie side to make you uncomfortable? Would the colour of my skin or my age or the shape of my body attract or distract you from the words on my page? Would it make you like them more, which means, in fact, I could really write anything and get a “but your still hot” pity like? (I’m not too proud to say I’d take it. Yup, totally would. I am not a “like” snob. I understand some people want quality likes, but if you happen to brush by that “like” button for any reason, I’m a happy camper. Didn’t read my post? Well, I’ll pretend you did. And you liked it.)

Why am I so obsessed with that? Who gives a rip what others think of me? I need to be authentically me! To throw off the bow lines, sail into the sunset flying my flag proud. Oh wait, is that a water metaphor? Oh, yeah, I can’t swim. And who am I kidding? I am no one and I kind of like that. I like being ambiguous. It’s like being legion, and at the same time solo. Or maybe Hans Solo. Cuz he’s cool. You’d like him if he had a blog, right?

Why do I even care about that? Wasn’t this supposed to be an exercise to get me writing regularly so that I could get back into the dream of working as a writer? But wait…if I want to do this in real life, don’t I have to come out of the closet to get work? And if I do get work, I can’t blog about it because then I’m ripped from my snuggly closet and you will know who I am. And then people who do know me might read this. And what would they think?!

I’m not ready for change. Excuse me, I think I’ll just close this closet door behind me. It’s actually quite comfortable in here.

Give A Little: How your Small Donations Can Transform Our World by Wendy Smith – Review

If you sometimes feel like you would like to give to a charity, but just don’t think the few dollars you can spare is going to make a difference, this is a great book to get you thinking about what skipping that coffee and taking the plunge to help the needy can really do. Give a little by Wendy Smith details 48 different charities and all the amazing things that they are trying to do, many with small donations, as well as some facts and figures about how giving works and the problems facing those in need today.

The beginning of the book is meant to be inspirational, and I think it would be, if I wasn’t a bit of an avid reader of books that want to change the world. As it was, using the 2004 tsunami to emphasise the $6.2 billion that was raised left me a bit leery, as in my third wave review, you may remember that for some people on the ground it seemed that a lot of that money wasn’t spent as it should have been, and although many people were helped, there was some sense of mismanagement of those funds. That aside, the point Wendy was making was that $3.16 billion of the money raised came from the US, and of that $2.78 billion came from private families with incomes under $100, 000. This is where the stats start to get inspiring, as it’s nice to see that so much of charity support actually comes from real people, instead of corporations and celebrity causes.

The best parts of this book, in my humble opinion, were the short stories about how each of the charities changes the lives of the people they help, including personal stories about what motivated the founders to take the leap. Although this book does cover many of the usual suspects in important areas of need such as maternal care, nutrition, health, and education, one of the things I liked most was that it also covers charities that are just as important, but get less attention. For example, did you know there was a World Toilet Organization? I can’t help but get excited when I hear of people trying to help others, particularly in less conventional ways, so here’s a little bit on two charities I found interesting.

First, there’s One Million Lights. It’s easy to forget, when you live in a world where light happens at all hours with the flick of a switch, that many people on this planet are trying to live their lives in areas without electricity. If you are in this situation and it gets dark because the sun sets, spending money on kerosene lamps or candles to keep the night at bay could be taking food off your table. If they do decide to splurge a percentage of their dollars-a-day income on these supplies, there is also the sad truth that open flames can be dangerous, the light quality isn’t that good, and fumes in inclosed spaces can be toxic to their health. So, when One Million Lights come in, providing people with solar lighting, it makes a big difference in their quality of life. Allowing people clean and free light sources lets them live without restraints, opening up worlds of possibilities that would otherwise be swallowed in darkness.

Another slightly less obvious charity and one of my favorites in the book was Bridges to Prosperity which makes a difference by building bridges. In some remote areas travel to larger centres can be almost completely inaccessible or extremely dangerous due to flooding, nonexistent or crumbling infrastructure. Keeping people from travelling can make it difficult to break the cycle of poverty because it prevents people from getting better employment, going to school, and reaching medical facilities that are outside their home areas. Imagine having to take your pregnant or elderly family member to the local clinic by crossing the following bridge:

Staying home might be safer, but sometimes that’s just not an option. Building bridges provides important points of access which stimulates the surrounding communities both socially and economically, reduces hours of travel time and loads of effort, and most importantly, saves lives.

Now, to be fair, I wasn’t always convinced with everything this book had to say. Occasionally, I felt that the statistics seemed a little too perfect, and some of the ripple effects noted were a little too best-case-scenario. But then, as you know, I’m a bit of a cynic.

What I’d prefer to stress is that although it may not be perfect in some respects, I also think that this book does an excellent job of highlighting the loads of places that are doing good works, and really, that’s what this kind of material is about. Maybe you won’t save the world for the price of a latte…but by participating in one of these great causes (including freerice and some other donate-by-clicking causes), you can help make a difference in someone’s life who has it a lot harder than we do.  So, if you want to know more about how these charities work and what good they’re doing, I’d recommend taking a look. I think that Give a little might just be giving a lot.

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“Like slavery and apartheid, poverty is not natural. It is man-made and it can be overcome and eradicated by the actions of human beings.

And overcoming poverty is not a gesture of charity. It is an act of justice. It is the protection of a fundamental human right, the right to dignity and a decent life.

While poverty persists, there is no true freedom.”

- Nelson Mandella