Superfluidity of Information

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I’m sure these types of washroom signs are used all over the place now, but I hadn’t seen anything other than the old stick figures until I moved out here. They still make me smile – so, while I’m explaining my delay in getting something done you didn’t even know I was doing, I’ll share a few I took with my phone. They’re not great but you can still get the idea.

I heard something more than a year ago which rendered me temporarily speechless and, to be honest, I didn’t believe it. The story I got was about part of the more recent history of this Island and, if true, should have been something I knew about decades ago.

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I did what I usually do and started poking around the interwebs to find out if this tall tale was fact or fiction. Ha! Not only is it fact, but it has resulted in me falling down a deep rabbit hole of information. So much so that I concluded last week it will probably take 3 blog posts just to provide some of the high/lowlights.

Then I made a giant mistake. I thought, given the nature of the subject, that I should put some of it into context. This necessitated a bit of digging into the Island’s history. Cue five more rabbit holes. I’m drowning in information and questions which result in more information.

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I don’t want to write a book – just a few blog posts. However, I do want to get the facts straight and I would like to be able to answer the questions I have (and you might).

So, if I don’t do a lot of blogging in the next while (seriously how long could it possibly take to come up with a short summary of all this stuff?) it’s just that I’m swimming through an ocean of information and trying to pick out the bits that might tie together. The weirdest part is that, if I present it logically, the piece that blew my mind won’t even appear until the end. Rabbit holes are weird places.

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I’ll close with a better quality sign photo. I took this one yesterday in l’Etete down on the breakwater and it refers to a structure used to haul up traps etc., off boats. My question was “Couldn’t they have though of a better word for this thing?”.

The response I got was typical of this Island. My friend ignored the question and said “the damn things don’t work. They put them up in Head Harbour and the boys just got chainsaws and cut them down.” My future blog posts might help the civilized world understand why this place came to be a center of (let’s call it) independent thoughts and actions. Or not. 🙂

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