Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 128

Itzhak Perlman plays and the sun comes out

Bliss. This is bliss. All Toronto was out today - as all Vancouver was out a few days ago - celebrating the sunshine. Hot today, for here - 14 degrees, blasting non-stop sun. Spring is just beginning here - in the garden, three croci are out, the daffs are up but not out, a few tiny buds barely appearing on the trees, and still some patches of snow. But with this sun, it'll be full on spring in no time.

What I saw right away, on my return: that Toronto's roads are terrible, potholed and extremely bumpy; that my house is beautiful but too cluttered (who knew?); that my neighbourhood is amazingly quiet given its location. Mind you, that's because there was an extra gift this weekend - the Don Valley Parkway is closed till Monday morning. The background hum from the DVP was missing all day today. So I went for a walk down on the Don Valley trail, beside the river.
 No, not Toronto - the last gorgeous view from Bruce's balcony Saturday morning.
And now for something completely different - a path off of the Don Valley trail - not quite the beautiful woods on Gabriola or Vancouver, but in a few weeks, it'll look quite different...
And ... I saw this! Can you see those toothmarks? This, ten minutes from my front door, is a tree nearly felled by a beaver. I didn't see the dam, but there must be one nearby.
The mighty muddy Don river. No, not the beauty of B. C., no question. But ...

But then after this walk, I got on my bike and rode to Roy Thomson Hall to hear Itzhak Perlman play Schubert, Beethoven, Dvorak, and more, accompanied by his pianist. A 25 minute ride from my front door to hear the greatest violinist in the world, who was sublime, especially his encores, because he chatted with us, and this great musician is warm, funny, endearing. Much adored by the audience, thrilling. Oh, and dear Nick, who told me about this concert, was there too, plus friend and student Mona, whose son took her to the concert as an Xmas present.

And then rode home to potter in the garden, make dinner, and listen to Randy Bachman, who's still on, so I am - you knew it - dancing around the kitchen.

And I thought - I love the trees, the tranquillity and mountains and ocean of a place like Gabriola. I don't get nearly enough of that kind of profound nourishment. But I have to say, I love Itzhak Perlman more. That is, I'd rather visit beautiful places in the country and live in the city, than the reverse. That's me - a citadine, as my friend Lynn says - a city woman who enjoys all the riches a city has to offer, knowing that the many negatives are the price we pay.

But now I also know, I need to make more time for the natural world. It's not just a frill, it's a necessity for this city dweller.

And now for Sunday night TV. One happy camper.

My dream dinner guests: Itzhak, Macca, and Obama. Wouldn't that be something?

the last temptation

At the airport, dying to be outside - it dawned of course a heavenly day, hot and sunny. The city, giving me the finger - diss me, will you, you Toronto nudnik? Let me SHOW you what I can do. And she fans her magnificent feathers. There was a brief sun shower and then a rainbow against the mountains.

Brucie and I took a walk on the seawall and through the park. Made me want to cancel my return ticket.

NOT.

Smog, cold, slush, complete lack of mountains, deer, otters, HOME, here I come.

the rain will see me off

Guess what it's doing outside? Pouring. Grey, chilly, very wet. The poor kids - there were many thousands this afternoon celebrating 4/20 just down the street from Bruce's place. He and I walked there, through the very smokey air, the hundreds of little booths selling kush, cookies, brownies, paraphernalia ... and munchies. How times have changed. But then came the rain, and of course, most of those kids have no umbrellas. A lot of wet puppies.

So I'm glad to leave Vancouver as it was when I came 30 days ago. In between, a few days of heavenly sun. But let's not forget, there's a lot of this here.

Bruce and I have lunched and dined, and now he's off seeing his nephew and my friend Angus play the piano, as Bruce used to, as an accompanist for a difficult Strauss opera. I am having a quiet night in, listening to the rain.

It has been wonderful. Usually I'm returning around now from Europe - Paris, the south of France, maybe Italy with Bruce. Instead, the gorgeous wet west coast of Canada, where I bathed in the forest, got a lot of work done in the peaceful sweet air, and spent time with a number of great friends. Grateful for it all.

Grateful for home tomorrow. And they say the snow may have nearly melted.

last day

End of the great voyage of 2018: I'm checking out of the Victorian Hotel this morning to spend my last day and night with Bruce on Beach Avenue, where today the city is celebrating 4/20 - marijuana day. I remember the huge festival from past years and know certain of my relatives would love to be there. It's possible, however, that Bruce and I will give it a pass.

Yesterday was the best day of the whole year so far - put all that rain completely out of mind. Sun all day, the whole city out playing beach volleyball, paddleboarding, dragon boating, sailing, and walking dogs. I began the day in Gastown, where my friend Monty, a retired architect, looked at the plans for my renovation to give me some advice. But what we discovered is that my house is so eccentric, it was nearly impossible for him to visualize, especially because there are no old brick semi-detached Victorian houses in Vancouver. "No, this is a nook, there's a cranny here, and that wall just kind of ends ..." I'd say, and he'd try to figure it out. It was fun.

Had lunch with him, friend Margaret who came to join us, and Monty's daughter, also an architect, who was arrested on Burnaby Mountain protesting the Kinder Morgan pipeline and, along with about 250 others, including the Green Party leader, faces a criminal trial. Suddenly idealistic activism has scary consequences - a jail term or a heavy fine and a possible criminal record, serious stuff. But thank god for those struggling to preserve our endangered planet.

Strolled this part of Vancouver with Margaret - an almost incomprehensible mix of chichi - Gastown - fascinatingly ethnic in Chinatown, and on the downtown East Side, the direst poverty I've ever seen, more extremely than anything I've seen in Toronto. I was on a mission - to find the plaque honouring Wayson Choy at the corner of East Pender and Gore. Found it! How proud I am for him; this solid celebration of him and his beautiful books will be there forever. (click to enlarge)
And then realized - I used to live in a rented house on East Pender, only a few blocks from there, when Anna was a baby. Walked with Margaret, who'd visited us there in 1982-83, and found the house, changed - it was covered with dark brown siding then - but I knew it right away. It was a bewildering time - I was suddenly a wife and mother, retired from the theatre and taking an MFA in creative writing, and stuck without a car in the middle of Chinatown. It was a lovely house but a terrible location - nothing close by and not a single neighbour, at that time, who spoke English. My back went into spasm, and I had to go to bed for a month. Not a happy memory.
Visited the tranquil Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Garden for the first time on the way back.

Rested, then the little ferry, again, across to Kits, to meet Judy for a walk and talk in the sun - as I've said before, when the weather is like this, you wonder why anyone would live anywhere else ...
and then to dinner with two old friends from theatre days, Colin Thomas and David Diamond, who live in a co-op on 1st, near the water. Thai food, gossip, reminiscence - wonderful. Colin, a brilliant editor as well as theatre critic, drove me back to the hotel.

So it ends. Back to reality, back to family, back to work, back to the beeg ceety. I'm grateful for every moment out here and can't wait to get home. I am a very lucky woman.

P.S. Yesterday was my aunt Do's 98th birthday - had a nice chat, glad to learn her friends had taken her out to lunch. And today is Wayson's 79th. Inspiring elders.

sun and sea

Left the hotel at noon and spent the day as a flâneuse - walking walking walking. Took the ferry to Granville Island, walked all around the Island, poking into shops, lunch - then the ferry to the Maritime Museum side to sit on the beach, walk up to 4th Avenue and flâner some more - bought a plastic holder for half an avocado, what a useful thing, at Ming Wo, a great cookware shop, and since I had time to kill, a bathing suit. ("I used to have a waistline, I assure you," I said, wincing, to the saleswoman who was checking for fit.) Had a wonderful Italian dinner with Judy McFarlane, fellow writer and now Acting President of the Creative Nonfiction Collective, and her husband Jim, great new friends. And then the little ferry back. There was a wind but the sun shone all day. Heaven.    Lunch outside on Granville Island, one of my fave places on earth
 The ugly city in the sun
 Sitting on the beach
My bus home.

Vancouver friends, including that bright thing in the sky

I have moved the chair in this tiny room so I can sit in a patch of what I believe is commonly called "sunlight." Yes, something delightfully warm and bright is coming through this east-facing window. And this strange thing was there for much of yesterday, too, struggling through the clouds. Heaven.

First, a huge thank you to my dear friend Nick Rice, fellow actor from the seventies in Vancouver, now a Toronto-ite who avidly follows my blog and writes me letters - actual letters - both when I'm home and when I'm travelling, three to Chris's place on Gabriola. How rarely we have the treat of opening an envelope, unfolding some paper, reading. Yesterday, Nick emailed to let me know, after reading my post about the doc on Itzhak Perlman, that the man himself will be playing in Toronto the day after I return. I went online instantly and got one of the last tickets. What a thrill, thanks to my old friend.

Off to Kitsilano, to the offices of the David Suzuki Foundation, to connect with more old friends - Tara and David. David was one of my father's most beloved friends; after Dad's death in 1988, David wrote a tribute to him in the Globe that I have framed on my wall. So our lunch together involved a lot of reminiscing, but also a lot of talk, as you can imagine, about the state of the world. David is 82, with the agility and vitality of a teenager - an inspiration in every way. Tara is a beautiful, warm, hospitable soul.

Tara and I took their new twin grandbabies in the wide stroller for a windy walk in the park. She told me their 8-year old grandson, who lives on Haida Gwaii, has volunteered to spend time picking up garbage. Hooray for the next generation of this exemplary family.

From there to the west side of the city. Jane Ellison teaches the fabulous dance/movement/meditation class Boingboing at the Western Front 4 times a week; I try to go at least once when I visit - this time, have managed twice. She begins with a long detailed warm-up, then puts on 3 or 4 fantastic pieces of music, always different and with a strong beat, and we all dance. Just dance, move, fling ourselves about. There's always a moment when I imagine my children taking in the scene, all these lumpy bodies boinging around, but I put that thought away and shake my booty. And then a cooldown. I adore Jane and her vital class.

From there to dinner with Kathryn Shaw, who was my director a number of times during my acting days in Vancouver. Kathryn has run the terrific Langara acting school for decades and has turned out many of Canada's finest young actors. So, more reminiscing and gossiping with another old friend, with two glasses of wine for me. At one point, the woman in the booth next to us turned around, and it was Cathy McKeehan, one of the only other people I've reconnected with in Vancouver. "What are the chances?" she said. Pretty good, as it turns out. She's a close friend of Chris's so I was able to bring her up to date on him and his move. She'd seen the picture of us together on his blog, "like an old married couple," she said.

And then home. All of this done on the first rate Vancouver transit system, busses and subway, efficient and speedy. And though I carried an umbrella all day, not one drop of rain. Instead, that unaccustomed warm thing struggling to appear in the sky. And there again now, through the clouds. Time to go out and say hello.

Oh yes, almost forgot - arriving at the restaurant where I was meeting Kathryn, I told the hostess I was meeting a friend. She said, I think she's here already and has gone to the washroom. Is she an elderly lady, like you?

Kill. Kill immediately without regret.

"Itzhak"

It's 9 p.m. on a very rainy night in Vancouver, and I'm drying off in bed, in a tiny all white hotel room, with a glass of a spicy Chilean Pinot Noir, a platter of Lebanese takeout, and thou.

Rain on Gabriola this morning, where I'd hoped to take a last walk in the woods. Instead, many cuddles with the most adorable dog in the world. The minute I got up, every morning, Sheba bounded over with a slipper in her mouth, hoping to play. I will miss her a lot.

Patsy and I took the midday ferry over to Nanaimo, returned my piano - I still can't get over that it cost $11 to rent for 3 weeks - got me waitlisted for the 2 p.m. floatplane, grabbed a bite to eat, and hugged goodbye. Last night was truly a gift, to be with two of my oldest and dearest friends, now living on the same island. To think that though we've been through decades of change and the batterings of life, yet, somehow, we're still fundamentally the same people, with the same bond, as nearly 50 years ago ... I asked Patsy, since she threw my 20th birthday party, if she would consider in 2 years throwing my 70th. Only joking, of course - she's much too busy for that.

So - goodbye to the island. It's right that one of Chris's favourite pastimes is watching "Escape to the Country," the British show about rural people wanting to buy a home in a country village. He has done exactly that, and what a perfect escape to the country it has proven to be. How grateful I am to have been invited to share it with him.

I got my standby fare - standby is half price for seniors, so $60 for the 20 minute flight. And then to the Victorian Hotel, recommended by my blog friend Theresa. What a find - very reasonable because the bathrooms are shared and the rooms, at least this one, are small - but in a great location, quiet, pretty, with breakfast.

Reading the "What's On" online, I saw the documentary "Itzhak," about the great Israeli-American violinist, was playing at VanCity. I'd wanted to see it in Toronto and missed it. Headed out without an umbrella - my non-Vancouver reasoning, "There's been so much rain, surely it must have stopped." Idiot! The film was sold out but there was a standby line, so again, I waited for standby and was successful. What heaven is this film. Yesterday, Chris's TV was tuned to the Knowledge Network and an orchestra came on backing YoYo Ma playing the Schumann cello concerto. As an encore, he played one of the Bach Unaccompanieds. I wept. And did again today - Itzhak Perlman, one of the greatest of the great violinists, is a mensch, a beautiful man, joyful, generous, kind, very funny. The film portrays not just his musical career but his lifelong marriage to Toby, a woman who saw him play when she was 15, went backstage, and asked him to marry her. A few years later, he did, and many years later, they still have a glorious partnership, 5 children, 12 grandchildren, and several musical foundations that they run together. He was crippled by polio as a child and yet has lived an incredibly full life. He talks about driving with Toby when on the radio came a spiritual sung by Marian Anderson that was so beautiful, he nearly crashed the car. "I feel very lucky to love and appreciate music that way," he said, and I concur.

Perlman was born in Israel and is deeply connected to his Jewish roots. Someone says, "Isaac Stern was asked why so many Jews play the violin, and he replied, 'Because it's the easiest instrument to pick up when you have to run.'"

The film brought me to my father, a nice Jewish boy from New York who played the violin; to Uncle Edgar, his brother, who played the viola and the flute; to my mother, who played the piano and the recorder and tried to play the cello so she could be part of my father's string quartet. How they would have adored this film. So I watched it for them and with them.

last day - dinner with Patsy

This dog is not real, she's a stuffy I'm bringing home for Eli and Ben.
Sigh.
Large bits of wood look like sculptures in the forest.
Fresh daffodils from the garden? Yum!
 Friends since 1970.
Friends since 1975 - and, miraculously, still friends after 3 weeks in a log cabin and constant rain and 3 crazy animals together.

treez

Tomorrow is my last day in Lorangerland, Chris's magic hideaway in the woods. As a parting gift, last night and tonight, he showed me two of his favourite movies, films I've been meaning to see for many years and never got around to: Strictly Ballroom and Muriel's Wedding, both Australian, funny, moving, great great fun. Heavenly to lie on the chaise by the fire and watch a very enjoyable film. And eat his lemon meringue pie while doing so. I've gained five pounds, I'm sure - much eating of much baking, followed by much much sitting at the computer and lolling in the hot tub, not offset by a bit of walking in the woods.

Some sun again today here - this is getting to be a habit, B.C.! And this while poor Ontarians, my family and friends, are suffering an ice storm of frightening proportions. My heart went out to them while I was walking another solitary trail. (click to enlarge)
 Someone tried to build a lean-to. Now leaning.

So many shades of green.
Not sure you can read it - the sign says "Woodpecker Training Skool." Some wag not only made it, s/he had to climb quite high to nail it on.

On Wednesday when Chris and I were grocery shopping, I saw a Globe and just had to buy it. It's beside me now, but I still haven't got around to reading it. I'll get to it at some point. Have I caught island-itis? The good news: I emailed two pieces of work this afternoon, the final version of the Beatles' talk and the next draft of the memoir. It felt very good to hear them zoom away. So tomorrow is my DAY OFF. I'm going to be doing this:

"The Outside Circle"

Yesterday, some blessed sun, so another walk in Drumbeg Park where we met all kinds of nice dog people who wanted to meet the adorable Sheba. (click to enlarge)












Tom Thomson, anyone?
Harder to work when the sun’s out, but the morning was rainy so we did get stuff done. When Chris went out to do errands, Sheba took full advantage for a little nap on his bed.











Later, Patsy came to get me; we had supper at the Surf pub with the most glorious view of ocean, mountains, passing ferries - and a seal.  I ran into a couple Chris and I had just met at Drumbeg. “Where’s your husband tonight?” they wanted to know. “Say hi to Sheba.”
Patsy and I were there for a “Reading and Reconciliation” literary event, two indigenous writers discussing their books, hosted by Shelagh Rogers who lives here. The discussion was particularly terrific because one of the writers, Patti LaBoucane-Benson, half Ukrainian and half Metis, who runs Native Counselling Services in Alberta, spoke of her graphic book, The Outside Circle. About a violent young indigenous man who enters a healing warrior circle, learns the history of his people, and manages to heal and change, she says it is nonfiction based on her work. Its powerful story illuminates First Nations history and life, and Patti was extraordinarily articulate about what’s needed to change our society, to “dismantle the colonial foundation of systems of despair.” “We don’t need Indian agents,” she said. “We need caseworkers to walk with indigenous people on the healing journey.” Amen.
The other writer was Monique Grey Smith, author of “Speaking our Truth,” also interesting. A moving and stimulating evening. And then the ride home on the nearly empty roads lined with thick forest. Not what I’m used to after an evening at the IFOA.
Today, dark and wet again. I truly don’t mind, because it makes working so much easier – spent the entire day finalizing my talk on the Beatles for the Miles Nadal JCC on the afternoon of May 24. With music, slides and video – and a bit of singing from me - it’s going to be a LOT of fun. Then during a brief lull in the rain, taking Sheba for a romp, and then more work before dinner. Only two more days here to finish this rewrite, and then I hit the busy, distracting world. I’m already missing the millions of trees, the sweet air, the silence, the many wild animals and birds, my dear friend and his gorgeous pets and house, his fireplace, his baking. Today he brought me a present to the studio – a tiny pot of the divine lemon meringue pie he just made.
But I’m sure he’s had enough of this intruder, and it’s time for me to go to Vancouver, my re-entry point to city life, and then, next Saturday, home.