Gee 20

"I had hoped you would protest, but please don't argue." - Lotte Lehmann

So far the protests have been peaceful but the city is crippled just the same. Merv's office in Metro Hall has been closed for a full week now so he has been working at home except for a couple of days spent in Waterloo. Rogers Media has remained open but Cath has taken the last couple of days off for an extended weekend so Jacob has been on his own to get to and from the office. Call me paranoid but I've driven him to work the past two days. I didn't want him on the subway these mornings when we knew the protests would be growing and escalating.

I think I'm more annoyed than anything. I needed some beading supplies in a short time to meet some commitments I made to a couple of people. Unfortunately, my favourite suppliers are downtown on Queen Street so I've had to rely on places in the outskirts of the city. I've paid more than twice the price for my supplies and had to settle for less than what I really wanted.

I've been watching the protesters on the news at night. I'm not suggesting there aren't legitimate issues that merit some protest but I can't help but note that many of the protesters and some of the issues seem a little nutty at best. And what of the Forest Hill couple who have been charged with being in possession of explosives intended to be used in relation to the G8 and G20 summits? They are a geeky middle aged couple living in a million dollar home. What's that about? Instead of blowing things up, being violent and causing damage to people and property, wouldn't issues be better addressed by articulate speeches from clearly sensible people who actually look like they are trying to make things better? Wouldn't everyone be better served by dialogue than by dynamite?

Maybe we could ask the sixty-something leftover hippies with gray ponytails and Birkenstocks to give the young protesters a few lessons in getting attention and action by holding a good sit-in or even better, a love-in. Make love, not war! Peace!

Mamma Mia

Mamma mia, here I go again
My my, how can I resist you?
Mamma mia, does it show again?
My my, just how much I've missed you
Yes, I've been brokenhearted
Blue since the day we parted
Why, why did I ever let you go?
Mamma mia, now I really know,
My my, I could never let you go.
- Abba

I have just arrived home from a a really fun evening spent in the company of my sisters, the daughter of my heart, Sara and Sara's mother Samia. In honour of Sara's nineteenth birthday next weekend, I bought five tickets to see Mamma Mia at the Princess of Wales. It was fantastic.

I've seen Mamma Mia a couple of times before when it played a long standing engagement at the Royal Alex. I enjoyed it both times I previously saw it but not as much as I did tonight. The cast was first rate - all great singers and great actors. Our seats were in the second row and couldn't have been better. It quadrupled my pleasure to see how much Sara, Samia and my sisters enjoyed it too.

Sara fit so easily into my life when I met her. Her mom is the same. Samia feels like a natural sister who has always had a place in my heart. I feel truly blessed.

Beading in Bethany

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds,
Exhilarate the spirit, and restore
The tone of languid nature.
~William Cowper

My beautiful friend Dale traded in her city home at Leslie and Eglinton, ten years ago and with her husband Mark, settled into a country home in Bethany. Dale and Mark run a management consulting practice. They are also both artists. Mark is a musician and photographer. Dale makes fabric art, jewelry and quilts among other things. About twice a year, Dale and I get together to spend a day playing with our beads and crafts, sharing things we've learned.

For the last ten years, Dale has spent those play days at my house. Though she has asked many times, it was not until today that the logistics of holding our play date at her country home came together. I thought I might be in a bit of trouble this morning when Buffy (my GPS) could not find Dale and Mark's street, no matter how many times I tried to enter it into the system. That meant I would have to drive to Bethany using only the directions Dale had provided. While that probably wouldn't be a big deal for anyone else, it caused a high level of concern for me as I am so directionally challenged. Not only was I going to have to navigate the trip on my own, I was going to have to do it in the middle of a relentless downpour. Just the same, I headed out, prepared if need be to call Dale and have her talk me through the journey. Truthfully though, it was an easy trip - three highways, one very hilly country road and I was there.

Dale and Mark have a beautiful home. In moments I understood what kept them living so far off the beaten track. The house is on about fifty acres of land. It is clearly the home of artists. Some of Dale's life-sized figures stand on the wrap-around porch to welcome visitors. On a day when it is not raining, I would love to walk around the property. Even sitting at the window in the gorgeous family room was like watching a National Geographic special. Dale patiently named each bird for me as they gathered at the feeders by the window - some of which I have never seen. Underneath the feeders were dozens of chipmunks and squirrels - three of the red squirrels barely more than a few weeks old.

Inside the house, there were so many things to see. Dale has taken an interest in felting and has found many expressions for her interest. She includes felting in her wall hangings, felts mats for her trays, has bowls of felted balls on her counters and has felted parts of the clothing on her ornamental life sized dolls. It's all very interesting. So when she offered to show me how to create my own felt jewelry beads, I was all in. We spent a glorious afternoon, talking, rolling, shaping and beading. I strung a few pearls, we ate and I came home with a few new beads, the materials to make a few more, a new skill and the calm that comes from an afternoon in the country.

When I left Bethany for the hour long drive home, the sun appeared in the sky. As I drove west on the 401 and the sky became cloudier, the combination of sun and cloud created what I call, a God sky - well defined rays of sunlight shining down on the earth like in all the paintings of God reaching down from the heavens.

It has been a wonderful day.

Take it Easy

"Well, I’m running down the road
Tryin’ to loosen my load
I’ve got seven women on
My mind,
Four that wanna own me,
Two that wanna stone me,
One says she’s a friend of mine
Take it easy, take it easy
Don’t let the sound of your own wheels
Drive you crazy."
- The Eagles

I went on-line about a week before Merv's birthday in April to see if I could find tickets for a concert or show that I thought he might enjoy. The Eagles were scheduled to play a concert tonight at the Rogers Centre with the Dixie Chicks as an opening act. I last saw The Eagles in concert about thirty years ago at Exhibition Stadium. I thought this concert would make a great gift for Merv.

While Merv would have enjoyed attending, he was already slated to attend a conference in Montreal this week so I took Nan to see The Eagles in his place. The Dixie Chicks were amazing. They performed with great style. The Eagles were better by a mile than they were when I saw them thirty years ago. The concert was spectacular.

The downside of the evening was that by the time The Eagles got on stage, we found ourselves watching the show through a haze of smoke. I guess people were having trouble grasping the concept that "no smoking" includes marijuana and other drugs that burn. Though I watched several patrons appeal to the usher for assistance in shutting down the smoking, he seemed disinclined to get involved. It was unfortunate for many of us. I ended up with a whopping migraine and struggled mightily with respiratory distress. I've been fighting bronchitis for more than a week. Trying to breathe through a cloud of dope was the last thing my poor lungs needed. While I could identify the marijuana smoke from smelling it in every bathroom in my high school and at every concert in my youth, there were other smells I couldn't quite identify. Something being smoked smelled a lot like skunk. Other smells were acrid and chemical smelling. I guess I'm out of step. I don't know what drugs create those smells.

Considering so many of tonight's concert goers were fairly geriatric, I'm presuming it was the younger part of the crowd that was indulging in the newer drugs. There is no question though, that some of the same people who were smoking dope when I saw The Eagles play thirty years ago in Exhibition Stadium, were smoking dope tonight at the Rogers Centre.

My Father's Daughter

"There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself." - John Gregory Brown

I am my father's daughter. I realized that as I was driving to pick up a couple of Jacob's friends who called and asked me to provide taxi service for them this morning. It is what my dad would have done. When anyone asked for a favor, he was always ready to drop everything and race to the rescue.

My dad would have turned ninety today had he not left us eighteen years ago next month at the tender age of seventy-two. It is hard for me to picture my dad as an old man. Instead I see him sitting in his living room chair, drinking Coke and smoking his ever present cigarette while cheering on Jean Beliveau to score for his beloved Montreal Canadiens. Or dancing in those God awful plaid pants with the white belt that were so cool in the 70s. Or digging in the garden as he turned the plain suburban yard of our family home into a work of art.

I talk to my dad all the time. When I'm uneasy or scared, I ask him to stay with me, and he does. When I meet someone I know he would love, I invite him to shadow me so he can share in the joy of those interactions, and he does. I often talk to him about Jacob and I know he shares my pride at the fine man his grandson has become. He is gone from my physical world, but not from my spiritual world. I miss seeing him but I feel his presence with me always.

Happy Birthday Daddy! I love you very much.

Our Friend Ron

Gone - flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
~Alfred Tennyson

Last June my cousin Francis' daughter got married in Sterling Heights Michigan. Though we were very close as children, I've seen very little of my cousin in my adult years. We were thrilled to be invited to Stephanie's wedding and Merv, Jacob, Cathy, Stan, Nancy and I drove on a hot summer weekend to attend. The wedding was at a beautiful golf course. We were seated at our table all together along with my cousin's dearest friends Ron and Carol.

Jacob was struggling a little bit as it was the week after his girlfriend ended their relationship. I hoped he would find a way to enjoy the wedding. Ron and Carol were an absolute delight. Ron ran an advertising business and he engaged Jacob in a great deal of thoughtful conversation. He asked Jacob to go on line to look at an ad campaign his agency was preparing for Faygo soft drinks. He even followed up in the days after the wedding to hear Jacob's opinions. We had a great evening and parted with some real reluctance at the realization that in one short evening, Ron and Carol had become family.

Francis, his wife Pat, Ron and Carol traveled for a weekend at Cath and Stan's lake house in Havelock at the end of the summer. We would like to have joined them but it was Jacob's last weekend at home before leaving for school and the logistics didn't work for us. So instead, we all gathered at our house for lunch before they went on to Havelock and they again returned for a short visit on their way back to Michigan. Carol brought us each a framed photo taken at Stephanie's wedding, of us all together. We called it our new family photo. We planned to reunite this summer for a weekend in Havelock.

Last December, Ron was diagnosed with cancer. He went for treatment but things didn't look very good. Somehow though, we believed he had some time. We planned our gathering in Havelock for a weekend in July and hoped Ron would be well enough to join us. Ron passed away in the early hours yesterday morning.

Last night we attended a birthday dinner with Nancy and Aivars to celebrate their son John's nineteenth birthday. Though I felt sad to my core over Ron's passing, I put on my best game face and tried to engage in the joy of the evening. The dinner was excellent and the company terrific. I had a good time. When we got home, the boys went to bed and I took some time to sit and think before I slept. I spent the day today thinking more about the same question I was asking myself last night - How is it possible that the loss of someone I knew for such a short time, could leave such a big hole? I didn't come up with an answer. I'm just plain sad.

Rest in peace Ron. I will never forget the kindness you showed to my son, your warmth and your generosity of spirit. Wherever you are, I hope you know you were loved.

The Second Season

"Patience is something you admire in the driver behind you and scorn in the one ahead." ~Mac McCleary

It is said in Ontario, we have only two seasons - winter and "under construction". As it is clearly no longer winter, we are fully ensconced in construction season in Toronto. What should have been a thirty minute drive home from Wellesley and Bay this afternoon, turned into a nearly two hour ordeal. Every major north-south artery is under construction - at least that's what the signs say as they narrow three lanes into one.

What puzzles me the most is that though the lanes were blocked, cones and sandbags in place, I didn't actually see any area where work is being done. What I did notice were throngs of motorcycle police officers standing at the edges of the construction zones watching the traffic. I've been downtown three or four times in the past month when traffic was being halted by motorcycle cops for long periods and no apparent reason. Call me a slow learner but after the third time of getting stuck I think I figured it out. Metro police are practicing for the G20 summit. I suspect that's what most of the road closures are about too - practicing for the paralysis of the city soon coming our way.

I for one am opposed to holding the G20 summit in downtown Toronto. Almost all the business downtown are going to be required to close their doors for the whole week of the summit. Union Station will be closed. The subway will not be running south of Bloor Street and violence is not only feared but anticipated. The financial district of the country's largest city will be barely, if at all operational. It is anticipated that there will be more security in Toronto than there was for the Vancouver Olympics. The costs will be oppressive.

Nonetheless, we will have the G20 summit to deal with at the end of next month and we will, no doubt, find a way to cope. I do wish though that the torture of Toronto's citizens wouldn't be in full force more than a month before the actual event.