Heidi Greco's Blog, page 22

Share a poem today

Sometimes it seems that there's a designated 'Day' for just about everything. 

Yesterday was (and it came as news to me) the International Day of Happiness. That seems like a day we could use more often than once a year. 

Today is another such observance. In 1999 the United Nations declared this date World Poetry Day. Some years, a specific theme is declared. In 2017 the theme was 'Freedom'. 

This year, while there's no specific theme, the preservation of languages plays a role. 

Since I don't write much in anything but English, the best I can offer for a poem today is a small piece particular to this challenging year we've been enduring. 

Haiku in isolated times

sitting at the table

so many days together

we remain in love

They're heeere!

It's always a glorious day when a box of new books arrives. Especially when they're my very own latest, Glorious Birds . 

Looking back over this less-than-glorious year, with its various stages of lockdown, I feel lucky that I found myself engaged in a project where I'd not only learn so much, but where I'd have such a great time. 

And now, on to the launch event, happening later this very day. 

Maybe it's time...

...that God needs a new pronoun too. 

My uncle often used to lead a prayer when we sat down to eat. And I loved that he generally began, "We thank thee, blessed Father/Mother..." an opening that acknowledged a being beyond the boundaries of a single given gender. 

On this day when we recognize one of the most intense complexities of mathematics, pi, it seems like a good time to grant a broader expansiveness to that most complex of all human constructs, the idea of God. 

And, if we're the sort who sometimes offers thanks to such an entity, we need to be grateful for Their (rather than Her or His) generous ways.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is International Women's Day, a day when I'll be celebrating with a reading from my book about Amelia Earhart, Flightpaths . 

Her accomplishments as an aviator would be enough to make her a worthy mentor, but I admire her as well for her courage, especially in the many ways she stood up for and spoke out for the rights of women.  

Even though she was speaking about opportunities (or rather, the lack thereof) for women in the field of aviation, this statement of hers from 1934, sadly remains somewhat relevant today: "If and when you knock at the door, it might be well to bring an ax along; you may have to chop your way through." [from Susan Butler's excellent book, East to the Dawn]

The photo above is one of the monuments to her in Atchison, Kansas, the town where she was born. They like to celebrate their most famous citizen by having a festival in her honour every summer (every summer except 2020, of course; fingers crossed for this July). 

This weekend's edition of the Globe and Mail offered an interesting idea for a way to celebrate Women's Day. The article made the suggestion to read a book by a woman author. While that doesn't sound too radical a thought, the article reminded me that men don't always read books by women writers. 

This is something I've wondered about before, as women and girls certainly aren't afraid to read the works of men. Is this just another of those double-standards we continue to live with?

Tomorrow -- and by that, I don't mean only tomorrow, March 8th -- but all the tomorrows on into the years when things can only continue (we hope) to improve for women around the world. Onward!

And the beat goes on...

Earlier this week, news came that Lawrence Ferlinghetti, whose name has long been associated with the "Beat Movement" had died. Almost 102 years old, he certainly had a good run. 

In addition to being known for his writing, he and a partner started the famous City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco, a shop I can vouch for as being an almost magical place. Apparently, a memorial for him was held in the laneway adjacent to the shop, a short street known as Jack Kerouac Alley. 

Sadly, Ferlinghetti is not the only poet who's died during this long and lonesome winter. 

The wonderful Ontario poet, Michael Dennis left us on the last day of 2020. Poking around on his blog, "Today's Book of Poetry" where he was constantly reviewing books, is sure to lead you to discovering someone new. 

Earlier in the year, Vancouver lost d.n.simmers. If you click on the link for him, you'll see, in amongst photos of him, a shot that was taken at City Lights Bookstore -- the one with the 'Door' sign. 

Lost to us, though at least we have their books. So yes, I suppose the beat does indeed go on. 

Read -- it's still free

Usually, I observe Freedom to Read Week by participating in an event specifically geared to celebrate it. Often, that means doing a reading from books that have been banned or challenged. For fun, this link will take you to a quiz about literacy and the freedom to read. 

This year, like just about everything else in our lives, that observance is different. 

Yes, I'm in an event where I get to mention Freedom to Read Week, but the only challenged piece I'll be presenting is one of my own poems. It's one that a local environmental group posted on its website a few years ago, when a whole lot of poets banded together in efforts to save a forest from becoming yet another faceless development. Fortunately, this effort, the Han Shan Project succeeded, and that chunk of forest is now protected and available as a public park. 

My poem, which was based on the Beatitudes found in the Bible, stirred the wrath of certain folks. They not only complained that my poem was blasphemous, they threatened the environmental group, demanding that they remove my poem (and even, for a while, wanted the environmental group's entire website taken down). I was fortunate in that the group who'd posted it held its ground and honoured my poem, and also that the complainers gradually went away. 

This year, when it comes to censorship, freedom of expression, and access to information, my biggest concern is the repercussive wave that's swept the internet over Australia's decision to protect journalism in that country. The big guys, who seem to think they rule the world, don't want to have to pay for content.

It's going to take a while to sort out this mess, but it's a situation that deserves the attention of all of us who value responsible journalism and news that's true.  

Oh, and if you're curious about the photo with its message to Read, it's a piece of origami book art I came across at my local indie bookstore -- a business I'm doing my best to support by shopping there. I hope you can find ways to shop local too. 

O Canada...

Today is "I Read Canadian Day" -- a day that for me is probably not much different from most other days. Not that I read exclusively homegrown books, though looking at various piles around the house, it's pretty clear that those are what I mostly read. 

The ones in the photo at the top are non-fiction, poetry, and even a magazine. Looking at them, I see an odd kind of interplay among their titles. Unintentional, I promise, but kind of a fun treat providing a bit of comic relief, as the two hardcover books are about disasters that occurred in Newfoundland. 

The books in the photo below are novels I've read recently, and both come, as Vancouver reviewer Tom Sandborn might say, "highly recommended."

Speechless concerns the plight of a young woman accused of adultery. Punishment for 'her crime' (actually a rape) is to be a public stoning. There's a review of it (one I wrote) in the most recent edition

of sub-Terrain Magazine, though I guess you'll have to buy the magazine to read it, as it isn't (at least, not yet) posted online.  

The latest novel from Helen Humphreys, Rabbit Foot Bill, came out last fall (and I bought it right away), but I saved it, as I admit to being a fan of hers. I knew I'd want to savour it, like a treat you save for some special occasion. Wherever she sets her books (this one, in Saskatchewan), her writing transports me there. And even though I didn't write a review of it, I'll admit there are quite a few orange stickies marking passages I want to go back to. 

I hope you'll remember that today isn't the only day to Read Canadian. It's a pleasure -- at least for me -- any day of the year. 

The start of a lucky year?

Happy New Year! Or, as many of us have learned to say (perhaps mistakenly), "Gung Hay Fat  Choy!"

While that greeting may no longer be quite the right thing to say, the ideas behind the greetings at Lunar New Year remain. Those sentiments range through all sorts of good wishes -- for good health, prosperity, success in ventures undertaken (especially studies), and peace.  

The lucky red packets traditionally hold money. The ones in the photo above contain chocolate in the shape of coins. As far as I'm concerned, not a terrible substitute. 

Here in the Lower Mainland area of British Columbia, this day is generally observed with parades and fireworks and plenty of public celebrating. Naturally, with the pandemic in full bloom, those events have been cancelled, replaced with several virtual observances. Not the same, but at least safe. 

The plan here is to have an array of dim sum treats for supper. Most of those are purchased, pre-made frozen treats that don't require much more than a ride in the steamer. But because this year is unique, we've taken extra steps and are preparing (actually, we started yesterday) special beef tendon and even chicken feet. 

The Year of the Ox (the Metal Ox, no less) sounds, at least to my Western ears, much easier to welcome than last year's Year of the Rat (which, not too surprisingly, links in my mind to 'plague').

Do you know which animal rules the year you were born? Finding out might (or might not) help you learn just how lucky you will be this year. 

Not quite right

The number that is. 

It's been announced that the TransMountain Pipeline extension will require the removal of 1308 trees from several spots in the city of Burnaby. 

Although I tried finding a local address that matched that number, 1310 was the closest I could find. Considering that the 1308 applies only to the biggest trees in this cull, the slightly higher number seems close enough. 

The citizens of Burnaby elected people they believed would protect the environment to serve on their City Council. Those councillors in turn enacted bylaws that were meant to protect their city's trees. 

So I'm a bit dumbfounded at the fact that the courts -- established, I'd always thought, to protect laws (and even bylaws) decreed that Burnaby's bylaws could be so blatantly put aside. 

If you, like me, find this outcome to be more than 'not quite right' please write to Justin Trudeau -- quick, while the trees are still standing. There's a form on the 1308 Trees website which makes it very easy to do exactly that. 

Yes, it's real.

The other day, walking home from an appointment uptown, I passed a building with a multitude of tiny roses clinging to the branches of one of the bushes there. 

I couldn't resist taking a couple of photos, and must admit, I couldn't resist the temptation to steal one. 

When I got home, I put it into a little vase and set it on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. I figured, with my pair of my brass swans standing guard, it could serve as a little reminder of hope. 

But the little rose wasn't quite enough to bring the miracle I'd been hoping for. 

My sister-in-law, a New Yorker for many years, was hospitalized with the virus on January 8th. Shortly thereafter she was put on a respirator and moved to the ICU where she was monitored. 

She had no underlying conditions. Was never a smoker.

With help from her son (and Zoom), at least we were able to say I love you, I love you. 

But yesterday we received word that her heart finally gave out. 

If only the people who claim this disease is a hoax could be part of our story, they might be able to let the truth sink in. 

This killer virus is real -- sadly, all too real for us.