Jill Thomas is a rambler, traveler, and storyteller with a big laugh who believes life will take her where she needs to go, no matter the roundabout path.
I recently returned from a lovely three-day camping trip on Long Beach in Pacific Rim National Park on the wild west coast of Vancouver Island, Canada. It was the first time I'd been to this area, and the little town of Tofino, located nearby on the edge of Clayoquot Sound, in a very long time.
Everything about the journey provoked irresistible nostalgia: the smell, the way the turbulent Pacific Ocean flows around, the jagged black rocks forming tide pools, and the highway landmarks on the drive up island —especially that first expansive view of the West Coast beaches. I felt excellently plagued by sentimentality in a way that was sweet and uncomfortable at the same time.
It brought back youth-filled memories of working to protect Clayoquot's rare and beautiful ancient temperate rainforests. I was arrested at a logging blockade in 1993 after tensions between forestry giant MacMillan Bloedel and environmental activists came to a head when the provincial government approved clear-cut logging in two-thirds of Clayoquot Sound.
Almost one thousand people were arrested that summer in what turned out to be Canada's most significant act of civil disobedience, bringing international pressure that eventually transformed the B.C. forest industry.
My job description included sending a daily press release, which I typed on my Mac Classic's tiny black-and-white screen long before I got my first email address.
During this most recent trip, my husband painted our spare bedroom, pulled out drawers, and left the contents exposed in the family room. When I got home, this press release was in full view in the top drawer of an old filing cabinet.
I wrote it when I was 27 to advise protesters who, like myself, were facing incarceration about how to survive in jail. Of course, I knew absolutely nothing about jail.
I'm unsure where I thought up my wise tips for the first-time incarcerated, like "don't whistle," "don't be nice", "learn to swear," and the protocol for choosing a seat in the dining hall.
There was no Google in 1994, so I have yet to learn how these ideas entered my naive and idealistic brain. It's okay to roll your eyes when you read it, and I hope it gives you a chuckle.
I wrote a press release every morning that year and then spent my afternoons faxing them to our media list. I then printed the releases and put them in a big blue binder. I cut out the subsequent media articles from the newspapers, glued them onto 8 X 11 paper, punched them with a three-hole punch, and put them in a big red binder.
I did this all while smoking and had an ashtray on my desk, which was socially acceptable back then.
I would love to hear your funny back-in-the-day work stories in the comments!
READ MORE > JT's Tales From The Trail, Rambler Cafe Blog
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