Heidi Greco's Blog, page 5

Remembering

My little vase of winter roses looks pretty sad. But then, today is a day they have reason to look that way. It's the anniversary of the day when a shooter murdered 14 women, all because he decided that feminists were ruining the world. 

For many years Montreal has shone 14 beacons to memorialize those women who were killed, but this year they've added a 15th beacon--this one on behalf of the many women who continue to be victims of violence. 

Maybe those brave little winter roses that reign on the ledge above my kitchen sink (where yes, I spend plenty of time) have reason enough to look a little sad. 

Another Surrey joke

And one that's not at all funny. 

The image is what's called 'public input' in Surrey, the city where I live (though wow, there are days when I wish I could move someplace else!). 

The City has decided to expand one of its cemeteries into a forested area where there are many trails, including the Semiahmoo Trail, one they themselves have designated as 'heritage'. In an area that's in the midst of a development explosion, cutting down trees and removing side trails is about the last thing our community needs. 

The room where last night's meeting was held was packed with people, many of us doing our best to engage with representatives from City Hall, trying to get straight answers. 

But straight answers don't seem to be what Surrey is all about anymore. One of the questions none of those reps could answer was why this meeting hadn't been advertised better. So many of us were there only because we'd heard about it from neighbours or friends. 

Those of us who were able to ask direct questions mostly received run-around replies that sounded like double-talk. In his all-too-prescient novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell called this kind of lying talk 'Newspeak'. His vision of distorted communication seems to have become the all-pervasive language here. 

As one of the comments on last night's boards suggested, the future is going to need more trees, not fewer (Surrey's canopy keeps declining every year). If you care about trees, you might want to think about adding your name to this petition. 

Poetry and Art and Friendship

The other night I was lucky enough to be part of a group of writers invited to read at the Sidney and Gertrude Zack Gallery in Vancouver. Our challenge was to find inspiration in the artworks on display, a kind of exercise in ekphrastic poetry. In the past, I've explored this method of writing, but previously the art works were landscapes or abstracts. All of the paintings in this show, while not technically portraiture, were faces of women. 

The artist Therese Joseph was in attendance at the event, and answered a number of questions posed by audience members--mostly about her process (which turns out to be a combination of methods). 

It's worth taking a look at her website, and to view the images we worked from (click on Faces).

I hadn't been in one of these readings at that gallery since pre-pandemic times, so this felt like a kind of homecoming or even a family reunion, as so many friends were there--including the reader and our emcee in the photo above. 

Among the poems I read were ones reacting to the recent US election--not particularly happy pieces, but then, part of my job as a writer is to reflect on the times, even when they're not happy ones. 

I'm hoping 2025 will bring more such opportunities, ones that leave me feeling 're-filled' with warmth and with hope. 

Shaken, not stirred

Shock. That's the state I've been wandering in since last night. I can only think that those who voted for the new president-elect of the US must count themselves among the wealthy or, sadder yet, the duped. 

Hearing reports of folks who think gas will go back to two dollars a gallon or that bread will soon be 99 cents--well, it would be nice if it turns out that you're right. 

But I dread what the reality might be, especially for those of us who still can't understand how a convicted felon, rapist, and non-stop liar could have possibly been elected. 

Dark days ahead, with clouds about to offer who-knows-what. 

The time of year...

...when some contend the 'curtain' between the here and the hereafter is thinnest. In other words, this is reputed to be the time of year when those who have gone before us may find it easy to visit. 

I won't attempt to dispute a belief either way, though I'm not one to dismiss such thoughts lightly, especially when I may well have received a gift from a loved one on the 'other side' earlier this week. 

Ghostly? Spiritual? Or simple coincidence? 

I'm not pretending for a minute to know for sure.  

Coming soon!

It won't be long until Halloween is here, and what do I have for decorations? Nothing besides a pumpkin who still doesn't have a face. Luckily, we have neighbours who make up for these shortcomings. Even the skeletons look excited. 

What I do have is treats for any brave, costumed visitors we might get on Thursday night. Juice boxes for little ones, pop for bigger kids, along with chips or Rice Krispie treats (store-bought, of course, gone are the days of handing out anything homemade) as a bonus. 

We don't get as many Trick or Treaters as we once did. I think many of them go to the mall where the prizes are likely bigger. And I don't think the costumes are as good as they used to be. I've always preferred the homemade (maybe last-minute) ones where somebody has too much lipstick on, along with bangly earrings and a witch's hat for contrast. 

Maybe the best costume ever was when a neighbour boy showed up as Kim Jong-Un, right down to the over-the-ear haircut, complete with a passle of would-be bodyguards. I think we probably gave them extra treats for their efforts. 

It won't be long until the holiday arrives, and I'm sure the pumpkin will be smiling by then, probably with the traditional 'missing-tooth' look. Until then I'll be doing my best to keep the treats up on the top shelf of the closet, and not keep giving myself permission to test them. 

The sky says it all

Gloomy looking, with the promise of rain--and today rain is what's been falling all day. (For the record, the photo is not a black-and-white; that's how the day really looked.)

I heard a rather startling comment during a weather report: that today brings the province's first atmospheric river of the season. I thought such phenomena were a once-a-year (if that) event, but no that's apparently no longer the case. 

I'd also thought the term was fairly new, but no, it seems it's been around for a while. 

Today's weather seems complicated, as today is also Election Day here in BC, with the possibility of a new provincial government. 

And yes, I can only hope those dark skies aren't promising anything worse than more than wet weather. 

More of the same to come?

Earlier this weekend, this black screen and its message showed up on our tv. Blame for this disruption of service was placed on the sun and an extreme solar storm--as if the storms we're experiencing on Earth aren't enough. A few days ago it was Milton, barely a week before it was Helene.  

Unlike a hurricane which pummels an area with wind and drenches it with rain, a solar storm has an effect on electrical signals like the digital ones that have become more prevalent with every technological advance. 

As we continue digitalizing (or should that be digitizing?) our world, there are bound to be more such messages from our various providers. 

Though annoying, this is yet another example of what we must remember is truly a First World problem--not something to really fuss about, especially on this Thanksgiving Day, when nearly all of us have so very much to be grateful for. 

Comparative wipes

Nope, not what you might first think--not toilet paper. Newspaper. 

Yes, I still subscribe to a hard copy edition of The Vancouver Sun that's delivered here just about every morning. But I also am the recipient of a couple of other papers, shared by a friend after she's read them for herself. 

Today I decided it was time to wash the windows, and I remain a proponent of the vinegar and newsprint school of doing this job. 

The Sun was fine, no streaks or smears; so was The Globe and Mail. But oh dear, the New York Times -- it broke apart into tiny shreds that would be great for making papier-mache, but not good at all for washing windows. 

Some days we discover things we never dreamed of, and this day was one of those. Hardly earth-shaking, but fun. 

A month of books

When I say a month of books, it's not exactly the traditional calendar month that I mean, more of a range of days when bookish events seem to be everywhere. 

Last weekend was the final celebratory day for Word Vancouver, an annual event that used be known as Word on the Street. Some cities back east still have that name, but we've gone (as we so often seem to do) our own way on this one. 

The poetry bus in the photo above had all of its ad spaces above the seats filled with poems by those whose work had been selected for this year's Poetry in Transit awards. A reading by those writers was just one of the sessions at this year's Word event. Happily, the sun was shining and most of the day was even reasonably warm, something that hasn't always been the case for this mostly-outdoor festival. 

Coming up soon, this Saturday in fact, Vancouver Public Library (Central Branch, downtown) is hosting a free event, "Literary MAGnitude: Why Lit Mags Matter." Anyone who writes would attest to the importance of these 'little' magazines. Where else does anyone get their start?

And before the month is out, Vancouver will be again playing host to writers from across the country and, in fact, all over the world with the annual Vancouver Writers Fest. I'm currently reading The Wren, The Wren by Irish author Anne Enright, and I'm looking forward to hearing her in conversation. 

But because I'm an oddball kind of reader, I'd have to say that's not the only book that's currently on the go for me. I'm in the middle of Caroline Adderson's collection of short stories, A Way to Be Happy. 

And on what I suppose is a stranger note, not very long ago, I realized that two books I'd signed out from the library (both about survival after major difficulties) had completely opposite titles. But then, their titles must say something about how my life often runs.