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Chapter Twelve
City tops toxic emissions…
Lennox faces a huge air pollution problem. The non-profit environmental law firm EcoInjustice says sixty-two large industrial facilities located within twenty-five kilometres of the city emitted more than 131,000 tonnes of pollutants last year, or thousands of kilograms per resident. Of these facilities, forty-six are in Ontario and sixteen in Michigan.
“What strikes me about air pollution in the Lennox area, is the immense quantity of toxic chemicals emitted.” Elynn MacBugall is the author of the report entitled Exposing Canada’s Chemical Alley.
MacBugall analyzed data collected under the National Pollutant Release Inventory as well as the U.S. Toxic Release Inventory. Industrial facilities on both sides of the border are required by law to report yearly on certain air pollutants which are released.
Lennox emits more than one-fifth of Ontario’s greenhouse gas emissions from industrial facilities, the story read. This poses a serious threat to human health.
“There is growing evidence that the Nassagewaya residents as well as city residents are suffering a host of health problems associated with exposure to these chemicals.” So says Arnold Murphy, of the Occupational Health Clinic in Schmedleyville.
“The Lennox area is one of the worst pollution hotspots in Canada.” This according to Chief of the Nassagewaya First Nation, Washington George. “The report highlights the need for government to protect public health.”
The report called for tougher enforcement of existing environmental laws. The report was not all doom and gloom. Between 2005 and 2009 combined air pollution releases declined nine percent in the Lennox area.
This was driven by only a few facilities. Polyox Corp has lowered emissions by 2,165,917 kilograms, mainly n-hexane and chloromethane, and Lennox Generating Station, also reduced emissions, (mainly hydrochloric acid,) by 1,008,255 kilograms. This might have been due to closing a few units that hadn’t been very profitable lately…
“Holy fuck…” Brubaker breathed in amazement.
Last year figures were available 2006…Lennox 5,669 tonnes of air pollutants…
Sudbury, 4,574…Hamilton, 3,334…Toronto, 2,829, Oshawa, 1,939, followed by Windsor, Kitchener and Thunder Bay each, with twelve or thirteen hundred tonnes.
Holy, fucking shit, thought Brubaker.
While O’Keefe had the facts, Bru was aware that he had somehow intuitively scooped the bastards.
“All you had to do was look out your front door.” The Guardian Standard’s building overlooked the St. Irene River, with Chemical Alley belching out smoke seven-hundred-and-fifty metres to the south.
The phone rang. Awful early for a call.
It was his little buddy from up the street.
“Can you drive me to the pharmacy?” Nibbles asked.
They’d known each other for years. Since the dawn of time, in other words.
He looked at the clock, which said, in its own silent and implacable fashion, six a.m.
“Argh. When do they open?”
“Eight o’clock. I got to get my drink.”
Brubaker sighed deeply. Drive Nibbles to get his methadone. He had time for a cup of Blim Blorton’s and then it would be time to get back to work. Two hours to go.
“Okay.” He hung up.
And on CrapTV News Channel, surely the disgrace of Canadian journalism, coming in from the cold, over the airwaves and out of the screen, causing him to hit the mute button:
Today’s top story: Biker Chihuahua.
“Holy, crap.”
The dog had goggles, and a scarf, and a helmet. His owner had him up on the fuel tank, driving around in circles to let the cameras get him.
“I wish you could learn to do that.” The cat ignored him.
He chuckled Butt Plug under the chin as the animal lay across his lap. It began to purr anew.
“Meow?” Asked the cat.
“Maybe someday, eh? Like when hell freezes over.”
Calls renewed for health study…
A scathing report that shows enormous quantities of toxic chemicals are polluting Lennox and vicinity has prompted renewed calls for a human health study. According to a spokesperson from the Lennox Environmental Association, the study’s inferences, suggesting a link between industrial contaminants and health impacts on local residents, need to be substantiated.
The association of nineteen Chemical Alley firms has offered to pay for a major study, one designed to determine whether Lennox residents suffer more than anyone else from air pollution in the province. According to sources, the offer was turned down by community leaders, who support the need for a study but don’t want it paid for by industry.
In light of the newest study by EcoInjustice, Lennox Environmental Association spokesperson Rob Knackerelli said it’s more important than ever to find out if a link exists, And to lay to rest the fears and concerns of area residents.
“Gotcha, motherfucker.” So thought Bru. “If he’s willing to study the air, it must be the water.”
“We’re still willing to help with funding. Our members understand the study must be conducted in such a way that the results are not presupposed. We’re willing to help fund it, but do not wish to lead it.”
“Don’t want to take responsibility, more like.” Bru muttered away. “They’ll dispute the results as soon as it’s done, and point out all the objections they made to the terms of reference.”
“This report makes a lot of inferences, so we need to find out if these things are real.” Knackerelli stated.
“Oh it’s real, all right. It’s real, you son of a bitch.”
Lennox County Warden Elroy Jarnes strongly agreed.
“This is fuel on the fire. We need that study. That’s the first thing I was thinking when I heard about the report.”
“Sure it was, you fucking dink.” Bru was practically growling at this point...
For two years, Jarnes has been working with a committee to get a study underway. So far Health Canada has not committed funds, stating, Business and community leaders need to get together and agree on the nature, focus and intent of the study.
“Pinning down the methodology is difficult.” So admitted Jarnes. “Residents need to know if they suffer more effects from pollution than other areas of the country, and why.”
“It’s not news that Lennox has high toxic emissions. That’s one of the side effects of industry. We need to determine if there are related health problems.”
“As a citizen of Lennox, I find this EcoInjustice report disturbing.” Good old Knackerelli. “We’re being picked on. The industry is making improvements. It’s a long process. We’re still working on it.”
‘Police contract, ‘lucrative,’ cost ‘staggering…’
Hidden costs will a have drastic impact on the city budget in a staggering Lennox Police Services contract, say critics. The Police Services Board approved the deal last week. It gives the 110 uniformed officers on the force a ten percent hike over the term of the contract. The 89 civilian employees get nine per cent over the same time. A constable with four years of experience will be paid $85,908 per year, up from $78,099. Not disclosed in last week’s announcement are additional costs. Responsibility pay, a kind of retention pay, will cost the city an additional $1.9 million per year, according to Hadley Monroe, director of corporate services.
“This means a constable with eight years’ experience will get an extra three percent. After 17 years that increases to six percent, at 23 years it climbs to nine percent.” Monroe explained.
Additional benefits will cost $1.2 million a year.
Former city councilor Ralph Bungey was incensed.
“This is a very, very lucrative contract, given the atmosphere of manufacturing and Chemical Alley job losses, as well as the pending closure of Scow Chemical in 2011. These increases are way out of line. We can’t afford to absorb this on top of the fire contract.”
Boyce Krefeltz, director of financial services for the Lennox Police Services, wouldn’t disclose the total cost of the new contract. Some money was put aside in the last budget in anticipation, but that figure also couldn’t be made public.
“Those are the kinds of things we don’t disclose.” Krefeltz said.
Former Board chairperson Mrs. Marie Phyllis has serious concerns about the impact on the budget. She noted the board has already directed the police administration to find $400,000 in savings, and that property taxes went up four percent last year.
“They’re not going to find those savings when you throw this increase in. They could be almost $2.5 million in deficit.”
She called the figures staggering, and predicted that even the most junior police officers will enter The Sunshine Club of public sector employees earning $100,000 per year or more.
“The police are extremely happy, and why shouldn’t they be? They’re getting everything they could ever wish for in their wildest fantasies. Everybody else will have to tighten their belts, take second and third jobs, sell their homes, or go hungry.” Move into the street, leave town, or head south and live in a trailer.
The settlement also affects firefighters, whose contract is linked to that of the police.
Due to contract terms, the firefighters get a three percent retroactive increase, in addition to a first-class firefighter’s pay of $78,052 as of the end of 2009.—Les Purvis
***
Brubaker finished reading the paper, his mind going full blast. Glancing at the clock, it was six-thirty. Better grab a shower and get a coffee at Blim’s. Usually a loner, there were mornings when he simply couldn’t abide conversation, not even the old man.
Especially his old man.
Some mornings he was so intent upon his own misery. It seemed like every morning he went though some kind of goddamned epiphany. Bru wasn’t good for much before he had his shower, his morning coffee and a half a dozen cigarettes.
Letting the pounding hot spray play on his lower back, Bru felt a brief moment of sadness. He had been alone a long time, except for the old man. With few friends, being on disability these last few years, he didn’t get a lot of opportunities to socialize. On his income, he would have to be truly insane, or something of an infernal optimist, to even consider looking for any kind of half-decent girlfriend.
He rinsed the last of the dandruff shampoo, Neck and Armpit, down the drain and shut off the water. He remembered to push in the knob on the spigot. Otherwise the next guy would get a cold blast of water on the back of the head when he turned on the shower. If he wasn’t alert. Pulling back the curtain, he stepped onto the ratty green bath mat, which his old man refused to replace.
“I like it.” Big Frank had his answer.
It was extremely humid in there, with the inefficient ceiling suck-out fan moaning and groaning away on dry bearings.
He dried himself carefully. To go out with wet ears was asking for ear trouble. To put on his gotchies without thoroughly drying his crotch was to get chafing on the bike. To be scrupulously fair, balanced, objective and impartial, Bru wasn’t a bad-looking man. He just didn’t have an income that would allow dating. Charles had lost confidence in so many ways. He sucked in his gut, and took a deep breath. In romance novels, the heroine always takes the opportunity to describe herself while standing naked in front of the mirror. He noted a strange grin. Funny thing was, while the back still ached, while it would rule the rest of his life, he didn’t look in too bad of a shape.
Six-foot-five, one hundred and ninety pounds, brown hair and eyes.
Long skinny face. Still got most of his hair. Grey at the sides. Shoulders not super wide, but not sloping or too narrow. Chest not impressive. Big hands. Good hands, pretty good upper arms, muscular forearms bulging with veins. Long skinny legs, but there were signs of a thickening and re-definition of his upper legs. The knees had been giving him a lot of trouble for a couple of years. Turning around, even at his age, there was no sign of sagging. No sign of that infamous family trait, ‘the world-famous Brubaker disappearing buttocks.’
His belly was still pretty flat, especially when he stood up straight.
“Forty-fucking-eight.” It was so hard to believe sometimes.
How come he still felt like a confused teenager a lot of the time?
No muscle tone in the lower back. Nothing he could do about that. Looking back at his good, honest, if slightly sardonic face, he remembered what she said all those long years ago.
“Puppy-dog eyes.”
It’s a good thing he had bought the bike. Several years ago, he’d been having a lot of pain in the knees. With a bad back, exercise is somewhat difficult. His knees used to buckle on him going up the stairs. Not anymore. They might give a little twinge sometimes while riding. When that happened, he just slowed down and took it easy for a while. He just rode through it. Brubaker began to scrape the persistent and obnoxious growth that had dogged him since he was about fifteen. He had the most patchy and uneven whiskers of anyone he knew. Chuck had a lot of scar tissue. The one on the lip gave him real character. The teeth, not so good—one too many fights as an adolescent determined to get the better of the schoolyard bullies that were giving him and his kid brother Willy a hard time.
The faint s-turn of the scar on his left cheek glowed pallid through the growth. Hack, hack, hack. The fishhook, thin and faint, that seemed to come out of the left corner of the mouth…hack, hack, hack. Tap the razor on the edge of the sink, (whack, whack, whack,) rinse it out…hack, hack, hack. The scar under the chin, the scar on the chin, now time for the other side. It was the kind of job you don’t quit halfway. More pale lines were visible between the clumps of black stubble.
He grinned at himself in the mirror. Bullies were different people when you caught them alone, away from the social safety net of their droogs. Chuck had discovered a lot of interesting places, people and things in his forty-eight years on this planet.
Like the time someone asked him.
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| ...a little something extra... |
“What’s it like to be so tall?”
Bru had complained about the difficulty of getting shoes, pants, things like that to fit. As a teenager, he was brutally shy and awkward. That pea-brain, the brain of a fourteen-year old kid, in a body more suited to a man. Chuck was six-feet tall one year, and six-foot-four the next.
Like an Imperial Walker from the original Star Wars movie, that brain, in a body that was all new. Teens are the most self-conscious people in the world. But then, they’re not used to being all grown up. He was the tallest guy on the basketball team, and the most uncoordinated.
A lot of men would love to be seven effing feet tall.
There was a hint of jealousy in the retort.
“Yes, but with an eleven-inch neck?” That was all he said.
And of course his feet, which were all of size fourteen, plus a bit more. Yes, a little something extra. Having grown four inches the year he turned fifteen, he was totally uncoordinated. He was lousy at high school sports. The first time in the locker room, when he took off his shoes and socks, and unveiled those feet, with six toes on each one, that was an interesting experience.
Yep. That was the day he had earned his lifelong nickname, The Mutant.
END
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