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Personal reflections: are we really safer one year after Fukushima?

8:30 -As I leave my peacefully sleeping family, the quiet Sunday morning greets me with roads closed to cars for today’s triathlon. I create a sustainable transportation triathlon to today’s Fukushima requiem. 

I start it as a solo event, slowly jogging toward the bus, slaloming in and out of the cones down the middle of the empty road (getting extra points for special swirls of my raincoat around them), slowing to a more dignified walk past the silent Starbucks window (one barista and one customer, resembling Hopper’s Nighthawks painting, but even more spare). 

The campus smells great, the robins are singing, and I only encounter three cars en route to the bus loop, two of them UBC Security, which seems especially superfluous and smelly this morning, but I cheerily greet them anyway. 

At the bus loop I chat about the UBC triathlon with a fellow bus rider, and offer a second rider a ticket (she’d forgotten hers). The driver kindly thanked me for my gesture by comp-ing my ride, and our new little bus-community courses down West Broadway, past churches, schools, apartment buildings, art galleries, groceries, parks, playgrounds, and other places where communities are created. 

The blinking green lights urge us on toward my destination community, the gathering of mourners for the passage one year ago of the pre-nuclear-meltdown Fukushima.  I looked at the beautiful view across the Granville Bridge, and began composing this first posting for the Fukushima meeting, this description of my warm trip to the disappointment, sadness, and anger of our deadly dance with nuclear power.

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