Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 155
January 17, 2017
Beth is ageist. Sigh.
A new term began last night at Ryerson - a full class, 18 writers on an evening so mild, I rode my bike to work. How I love the challenge of a classroom full of potential. Here we go.
On another note, however - I got a call this morning from a friend who also goes to the Y, to tell me she'd run into a fellow member having a meltdown. A few days ago, I put up the following notice on the bulletin board in the Women's Health Club.
LOOKING FOR MAC/IPHONE/SOCIAL MEDIA TECH SUPPORT. Probably someone 22 years old, but could be anyone who understands these things. I function on these machines and on FB but would like a coach to teach me how to function better and how to fix the glitches that drive me insane. If you know someone, please give them my coordinates.
My friend said the woman was furious about this terrible notice. She made an official complaint to the Y, and it was taken down. Because it was ageist.
Holy @#$, Batman. Can you imagine living with absolutely no sense of humour but all antennae quivering to detect a hint of incorrectness at every turn? It's like the people accusing Jordan Peterson, the U of T professor who refuses to use "ze" or "they" for a transgender person, as "fostering hate". I just read an article in the NYT saying it's the extreme absurdities of political correctness that elected Trump - "People are sick and tired of hearing about liberals' damn bathrooms" - and faced with my accuser, I understand what that means. In a world full of major issues, with so many more to come after Friday, we are giving far too much time and energy to people obsessed with the unbelievably minor.
I can't help but think - yes, I'm still sensitive - of the student last term who told my boss I needed sensitivity training because I made a joke to the one man in the class about representing half the planet. Ye gods, the world is disintegrating around us; my ex-husband who lives in Washington just wrote, "The Visigoths are already arriving." And people are fixated on such petty things.
Oh well.
It's busy around here. Late tonight, my upstairs tenant Carol arrives back from her other home in Ecuador. Thursday, my home students and I are having a huge potluck meal to celebrate the beginning of our winter term, and later THAT night, my ex arrives to spend four days under my roof, that used to be his roof, visiting our children and grandchildren.
He is also avoiding the inauguration. With its seven Rockettes and nineteen Mormon Tabernacle singers. Hard to believe that is actually going to happen, that such a horrendous human being will be in the White House. The world shudders.
Time for a big, big glass of wine.
And incidentally, If you know someone, could be 38 or 43 or 56 or 68 or 75 or 81 or 103, if they're good at Mac tech stuff and social media, please give them my coordinates. But frankly, the chances are that they'll be 22.
On another note, however - I got a call this morning from a friend who also goes to the Y, to tell me she'd run into a fellow member having a meltdown. A few days ago, I put up the following notice on the bulletin board in the Women's Health Club.
LOOKING FOR MAC/IPHONE/SOCIAL MEDIA TECH SUPPORT. Probably someone 22 years old, but could be anyone who understands these things. I function on these machines and on FB but would like a coach to teach me how to function better and how to fix the glitches that drive me insane. If you know someone, please give them my coordinates.
My friend said the woman was furious about this terrible notice. She made an official complaint to the Y, and it was taken down. Because it was ageist.
Holy @#$, Batman. Can you imagine living with absolutely no sense of humour but all antennae quivering to detect a hint of incorrectness at every turn? It's like the people accusing Jordan Peterson, the U of T professor who refuses to use "ze" or "they" for a transgender person, as "fostering hate". I just read an article in the NYT saying it's the extreme absurdities of political correctness that elected Trump - "People are sick and tired of hearing about liberals' damn bathrooms" - and faced with my accuser, I understand what that means. In a world full of major issues, with so many more to come after Friday, we are giving far too much time and energy to people obsessed with the unbelievably minor.
I can't help but think - yes, I'm still sensitive - of the student last term who told my boss I needed sensitivity training because I made a joke to the one man in the class about representing half the planet. Ye gods, the world is disintegrating around us; my ex-husband who lives in Washington just wrote, "The Visigoths are already arriving." And people are fixated on such petty things.
Oh well.
It's busy around here. Late tonight, my upstairs tenant Carol arrives back from her other home in Ecuador. Thursday, my home students and I are having a huge potluck meal to celebrate the beginning of our winter term, and later THAT night, my ex arrives to spend four days under my roof, that used to be his roof, visiting our children and grandchildren.
He is also avoiding the inauguration. With its seven Rockettes and nineteen Mormon Tabernacle singers. Hard to believe that is actually going to happen, that such a horrendous human being will be in the White House. The world shudders.
Time for a big, big glass of wine.
And incidentally, If you know someone, could be 38 or 43 or 56 or 68 or 75 or 81 or 103, if they're good at Mac tech stuff and social media, please give them my coordinates. But frankly, the chances are that they'll be 22.
January 13, 2017
L'Arche and good habits
I love email and the surprises it brings. Yesterday, a note from a woman at a JCC near Washington D.C., who'd learned of my recent talk about my great-grandfather at the JCC here and wondered if I'd give a talk at hers. By this morning, it was more or less set: Thursday October 19 at 1.30 p.m in Fairfax, Virginia. The fee they're paying will nearly cover the cost of my flight, and I'll stay with my two cousins who live in Washington and visit other relatives, including my ex-husband, as well - people I see far too rarely. Thank you, email.
On Wednesday night, a truly wonderful experience - I had dinner at a L'Arche community in Riverdale. I'd asked a former student who works at L'Arche if he could arrange this, because I wanted a clearer memory of my time there in 1979. L'Arche, as I'm sure you know, is now a worldwide network of houses where mentally and physically handicapped people live and work with assistants, in an atmosphere as like a normal home as is possible. My time at my friend Denis's L'Arche community in Provence changed my life.
There were five handicapped people at dinner, and as we sat and talked, what came back immediately is that the disadvantaged in mind and body have no defences, no disguises, no subterfuge. They are what they are, and they expect you to be too. There's a profound honesty in these dealings; you can't pretend to be what you're not, because they are looking straight at you and through you with clear eyes devoid of guile or judgement. As in those months in France, I could feel my heart growing bigger as the meal progressed. There was one particularly beautiful man who has been at L'Arche since 1980, his hands and body crooked and his face full of vulnerability, kindness and wisdom.
I arrived at the community in France in 1979 confused, lost, in some anguish. When I left four months later, I was a different person, because I had learned something vital about my own value: just being myself, paying attention, caring, loving and working, I had contributed something worthwhile. This is what I'm writing about now - one of those times when by some miracle you end up in exactly the right place at the right time. Lucky and blessed, indeed.
Also lucky and blessed: I just finished Gretchen Rubin's Better than before: mastering the habits of our everyday lives, and like L'Arche, this was exactly the book I needed just when I needed it. Yes, Rubin is perky, and living with her would be hell; she's a driven, rigidly organized, rather self-righteous American woman who won't eat a single carb and disapproves of drinking wine, so I could just have slammed the book shut. But she's also funny and honest, and the book was valuable in helping pinpoint what I was doing wrong in my attempts to set up a work routine. Her section on loopholes, the excuses we use to get out of doing what we should be doing, made me laugh. I am a grand master of loopholes.
But I can report that for the last five mornings, I've followed a routine. Won't elaborate until more time has passed, don't want to jinx this or FIND A LOOPHOLE - but it's a New Year's transformation that makes me happy.
In the meantime, the tsunami of horror south of the border continues to gather steam. And then there's this:
How fabulous. My Macca, of course! Just a tiny message to El Trumpo about those artists who support him - the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, at least those who have not quit in protest - and the artists, above, who do not. What a lineup. Hooray for musicians. Hooray for Alec Baldwin and his absurd creation. Please God make that vile man go away. And we thought Stephen Harper was bad.
On Wednesday night, a truly wonderful experience - I had dinner at a L'Arche community in Riverdale. I'd asked a former student who works at L'Arche if he could arrange this, because I wanted a clearer memory of my time there in 1979. L'Arche, as I'm sure you know, is now a worldwide network of houses where mentally and physically handicapped people live and work with assistants, in an atmosphere as like a normal home as is possible. My time at my friend Denis's L'Arche community in Provence changed my life.
There were five handicapped people at dinner, and as we sat and talked, what came back immediately is that the disadvantaged in mind and body have no defences, no disguises, no subterfuge. They are what they are, and they expect you to be too. There's a profound honesty in these dealings; you can't pretend to be what you're not, because they are looking straight at you and through you with clear eyes devoid of guile or judgement. As in those months in France, I could feel my heart growing bigger as the meal progressed. There was one particularly beautiful man who has been at L'Arche since 1980, his hands and body crooked and his face full of vulnerability, kindness and wisdom.
I arrived at the community in France in 1979 confused, lost, in some anguish. When I left four months later, I was a different person, because I had learned something vital about my own value: just being myself, paying attention, caring, loving and working, I had contributed something worthwhile. This is what I'm writing about now - one of those times when by some miracle you end up in exactly the right place at the right time. Lucky and blessed, indeed.
Also lucky and blessed: I just finished Gretchen Rubin's Better than before: mastering the habits of our everyday lives, and like L'Arche, this was exactly the book I needed just when I needed it. Yes, Rubin is perky, and living with her would be hell; she's a driven, rigidly organized, rather self-righteous American woman who won't eat a single carb and disapproves of drinking wine, so I could just have slammed the book shut. But she's also funny and honest, and the book was valuable in helping pinpoint what I was doing wrong in my attempts to set up a work routine. Her section on loopholes, the excuses we use to get out of doing what we should be doing, made me laugh. I am a grand master of loopholes.
But I can report that for the last five mornings, I've followed a routine. Won't elaborate until more time has passed, don't want to jinx this or FIND A LOOPHOLE - but it's a New Year's transformation that makes me happy.
In the meantime, the tsunami of horror south of the border continues to gather steam. And then there's this:
How fabulous. My Macca, of course! Just a tiny message to El Trumpo about those artists who support him - the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, at least those who have not quit in protest - and the artists, above, who do not. What a lineup. Hooray for musicians. Hooray for Alec Baldwin and his absurd creation. Please God make that vile man go away. And we thought Stephen Harper was bad.
January 11, 2017
another student in the Globe
It's funny that the very week the U of T course was cancelled, my students keep popping up in the Globe and Mail. Today, another glorious essay that I remember clearly from class last year. It hits hard, so beautifully written by Martha ter Kuile. Don't miss it.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/facts-and-arguments/after-my-husband-died-i-found-it-hard-to-part-with-his-leathershoes/article33565860/?ord=1
Lynn, who co-wrote the Lives Lived for Gwen Setterfield, read yesterday's blog post about the article and emailed me:
Taking your class was an important moment in my life. I will always be grateful for your leadership. It set the tone for the group and the friendships that grew from it.
Thank you very much, Lynn, I needed that, and I'm looking forward to meeting a whole new group of writers next Monday.
P.S. I just wrote to Martha to congratulate her, and she wrote back, "Yes, what a thrill to have it there. But the real thing was the writing. I cannot thank you enough for the encouragement and laughter of that class last year. It has meant so much!"
I'm beginning to think I might, just might, be good at this.
PS. The current New Yorker just arrived, with its stunning cover. This magazine is food for the soul.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/facts-and-arguments/after-my-husband-died-i-found-it-hard-to-part-with-his-leathershoes/article33565860/?ord=1
Lynn, who co-wrote the Lives Lived for Gwen Setterfield, read yesterday's blog post about the article and emailed me:
Taking your class was an important moment in my life. I will always be grateful for your leadership. It set the tone for the group and the friendships that grew from it.
Thank you very much, Lynn, I needed that, and I'm looking forward to meeting a whole new group of writers next Monday.
P.S. I just wrote to Martha to congratulate her, and she wrote back, "Yes, what a thrill to have it there. But the real thing was the writing. I cannot thank you enough for the encouragement and laughter of that class last year. It has meant so much!"
I'm beginning to think I might, just might, be good at this.
PS. The current New Yorker just arrived, with its stunning cover. This magazine is food for the soul.
January 10, 2017
Gwen Setterfield and Julieta
It's a horrible winter night, rain turning fresh snow to sloppy mush, but I am warmed by something that happened today. 13 years ago, after taking my Ryerson course, a group of women from the class formed a writing group. I urge all my classes to do so, but this surely is the most longterm and successful. They have continued to meet once a month, year after year, critiquing each other's work, supporting each other as writers and as friends. When one member, Liz, died suddenly awaiting a kidney transplant, the others asked her husband's permission to access her computer. They took her best stories, founded a press, and published a book of Liz's stories. It was profoundly moving to be at the book launch - all proceeds of the sales went to kidney research - and see Liz's family holding the beautiful book of her words, produced with such love by her writing group.
Now the group has honoured another member - Gwenlyn Setterfield, an influential mover and shaker in the arts community in this country, died last year at the age of 82, and two members of the group, Rose and Lynn, wrote a Lives Lived which was in today's Globe. Gwen was important to me not just as an accomplished writer and interesting, vital person, but because her brother George, a biologist, was one of my father's closest friends. She and I had a bond that was deeper than most I have with my students, and I was saddened by her death. But glad, today, that she was so touchingly remembered by her longterm writing friends. I love the ending. Brava, Gwen. Way to go.
She died after a week in Stratford, Ont., visiting one of her daughters. She saw four plays, ate great meals, bought some stylish clothes and enjoyed a spa day.
http://v1.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/LAC.20170110.OBLIVESSETTERFIELD/BDAStory/BDA/deaths
Last night, I watched a documentary called Risky Drinking, which turned my hair even more grey. It took four case studies of alcoholics or binge drinkers and followed them on their paths to destruction. Several tried rehab, stopped drinking for a bit, reclaimed their lives, and then plunged back down again. It was horrifying, cautionary. I will keep a closer eye on my own consumption, though I think two glasses of red wine a day don't quite qualify me as a case study for this film. But still.
Today, met Ken at TIFF to see Almadovar's Julieta, based on 3 Alice Munro stories. I couldn't imagine turning the WASPS of rural Ontario into the passionate citizens of Spain, and sure enough, it didn't really work. But I didn't regret seeing it - it's about the grief of a mother whose daughter turns away from her and disappears for many years, and I realized, again, how unbelievably grateful I am that my daughter lives on the other side of town, and though we only see each other once a week, if that, we talk or text almost daily. One of the greatest gifts of my life.
Afterwards, Ken and I had a bite to eat in the cosy TIFF bar, as the rain splattered the dark streets outside. I had one glass of wine. It was so good.
Now the group has honoured another member - Gwenlyn Setterfield, an influential mover and shaker in the arts community in this country, died last year at the age of 82, and two members of the group, Rose and Lynn, wrote a Lives Lived which was in today's Globe. Gwen was important to me not just as an accomplished writer and interesting, vital person, but because her brother George, a biologist, was one of my father's closest friends. She and I had a bond that was deeper than most I have with my students, and I was saddened by her death. But glad, today, that she was so touchingly remembered by her longterm writing friends. I love the ending. Brava, Gwen. Way to go.
She died after a week in Stratford, Ont., visiting one of her daughters. She saw four plays, ate great meals, bought some stylish clothes and enjoyed a spa day.
http://v1.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/LAC.20170110.OBLIVESSETTERFIELD/BDAStory/BDA/deaths
Last night, I watched a documentary called Risky Drinking, which turned my hair even more grey. It took four case studies of alcoholics or binge drinkers and followed them on their paths to destruction. Several tried rehab, stopped drinking for a bit, reclaimed their lives, and then plunged back down again. It was horrifying, cautionary. I will keep a closer eye on my own consumption, though I think two glasses of red wine a day don't quite qualify me as a case study for this film. But still.
Today, met Ken at TIFF to see Almadovar's Julieta, based on 3 Alice Munro stories. I couldn't imagine turning the WASPS of rural Ontario into the passionate citizens of Spain, and sure enough, it didn't really work. But I didn't regret seeing it - it's about the grief of a mother whose daughter turns away from her and disappears for many years, and I realized, again, how unbelievably grateful I am that my daughter lives on the other side of town, and though we only see each other once a week, if that, we talk or text almost daily. One of the greatest gifts of my life.
Afterwards, Ken and I had a bite to eat in the cosy TIFF bar, as the rain splattered the dark streets outside. I had one glass of wine. It was so good.
January 9, 2017
re: Beth's winter classes; Life, Animated; Moonlight; Meryl
News on the teaching front: My Ryerson course starts in a week and right now, on Monday evening, has one spot left, so by tomorrow it will be full. If you're interested, you should register this instant.
On the other hand, my U of T advanced course was cancelled today because of low registration. This hasn't happened in years, and I don't understand why it came to be this term. Yes, when you check the U of T creative writing calendar, there are 7 other memoir courses that sound like mine and are running at the same time. I'm sure that doesn't help. But there you go, that's life. The cancellation means not trucking through the snow, that's a blessing. More time in my cosy home doing my own work, yay.
Less income.
I'll survive. For any disappointed students, you know where to find me - it all starts again in May.
And to cheer myself up, I'll read this lovely note I recently received from a longterm student:
I wanted to let you know that your constant encouragement works wonders to those who are keen at heart and slow to task. You keep a steady stream of motivation flowing through sharing your own journey, ups and downs and the sage advice of others. I need these!
Saturday night on TV, a beautiful documentary, "Life, Animated," about Owen, a severely autistic boy who comes to process, understand and control his world through Disney animated films. Profoundly moving as it shows his parents realizing - he's in there, his mind is alive, through his imitation of voices in the films, specifically, fascinatingly, all the sidekick characters. By the end, the boy who couldn't talk or function is a young man in his own assisted living apartment, speaking at a conference in France about being autistic and proud. He got a standing ovation. I'd read the article written by his father, Ron Suskind, in the New Yorker, which led to the film, a tribute not just to Owen but, so very much, to his mother and father for their infinite patience and love. And also, to the creative genius of Disney and his teams, who didn't just entertain millions but saved one small boy's life.
Yesterday, to see Moonlight with friend Ron. It won the Golden Globe that night. Though it is a very good film, I have to say, I found it slow and the dialogue and storyline sometimes hard to follow. Its story of a disadvantaged gay man of colour in the south, bullied as a boy, abandoned by his drug-addicted mother, bullied in adolescence, then unrecognizably bulked up as an adult and a drug dealer like the man who rescued him in childhood - it's a great relief that there's sweet redemption at the end. Haunting. But I wish there'd been more subtitles.
Then a Sri Lankan dinner with Ron, a childhood friend who recently moved to my neighbourhood, and then home for Sherlock. Ridiculous and sublime, and again, needs subtitles - the dialogue moves so fast! And then a bit of the Golden Globes, but I missed Meryl Streep last night, caught her again, a million times, on FB today. What a magnificent woman. I drank in her words like cold water in the desert - an actor speaking a wise and difficult truth to the nation and to her peers. I am in awe. Brava!
On the other hand, my U of T advanced course was cancelled today because of low registration. This hasn't happened in years, and I don't understand why it came to be this term. Yes, when you check the U of T creative writing calendar, there are 7 other memoir courses that sound like mine and are running at the same time. I'm sure that doesn't help. But there you go, that's life. The cancellation means not trucking through the snow, that's a blessing. More time in my cosy home doing my own work, yay.
Less income.
I'll survive. For any disappointed students, you know where to find me - it all starts again in May.
And to cheer myself up, I'll read this lovely note I recently received from a longterm student:
I wanted to let you know that your constant encouragement works wonders to those who are keen at heart and slow to task. You keep a steady stream of motivation flowing through sharing your own journey, ups and downs and the sage advice of others. I need these!
Saturday night on TV, a beautiful documentary, "Life, Animated," about Owen, a severely autistic boy who comes to process, understand and control his world through Disney animated films. Profoundly moving as it shows his parents realizing - he's in there, his mind is alive, through his imitation of voices in the films, specifically, fascinatingly, all the sidekick characters. By the end, the boy who couldn't talk or function is a young man in his own assisted living apartment, speaking at a conference in France about being autistic and proud. He got a standing ovation. I'd read the article written by his father, Ron Suskind, in the New Yorker, which led to the film, a tribute not just to Owen but, so very much, to his mother and father for their infinite patience and love. And also, to the creative genius of Disney and his teams, who didn't just entertain millions but saved one small boy's life.
Yesterday, to see Moonlight with friend Ron. It won the Golden Globe that night. Though it is a very good film, I have to say, I found it slow and the dialogue and storyline sometimes hard to follow. Its story of a disadvantaged gay man of colour in the south, bullied as a boy, abandoned by his drug-addicted mother, bullied in adolescence, then unrecognizably bulked up as an adult and a drug dealer like the man who rescued him in childhood - it's a great relief that there's sweet redemption at the end. Haunting. But I wish there'd been more subtitles.
Then a Sri Lankan dinner with Ron, a childhood friend who recently moved to my neighbourhood, and then home for Sherlock. Ridiculous and sublime, and again, needs subtitles - the dialogue moves so fast! And then a bit of the Golden Globes, but I missed Meryl Streep last night, caught her again, a million times, on FB today. What a magnificent woman. I drank in her words like cold water in the desert - an actor speaking a wise and difficult truth to the nation and to her peers. I am in awe. Brava!
January 7, 2017
Come From Away and the end of the Trump Slump
The wealth of our new connected lives: I am listening to Chuck Berry, the first choice of Keith Richards who's being interviewed on BBC's "Desert Island Discs" - famous Brits for decades have been invited onto the radio to talk about their lives and choose their favourite music - and I'm listening on the internet, after reading an article about the show in the Guardian. And while I listened, for a bit I was on FB watching Laurel and Hardy dancing, exactly to the beat. Isn't this a marvel?
Keef's next choice: Hank Williams. Ooo that's sad.
This afternoon, glorious - I was smart enough to get one of the last tickets to Come From Away, the Mirvish-produced musical that closes tomorrow and opens on Broadway in February. It's about what happened in Gander, Newfoundland, on 9/11, when 38 international flights were grounded in Nfld. on their way to NYC. The tiny community leapt into action, feeding and sheltering almost 7000 people from around the world for days. A fantastic story, all true, joyful, magical, and now a joyful, magical musical about human generosity and kindness in desperate times. I wonder what cynical NYC will make of it. Surely the timing is perfect - in this time of Trump, the world needs to be reminded, as often as possible, of the goodness possible in the human soul. My guess is that half the audience will want to move to Newfoundland. And they'd be right.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/theatre-and-performance/theatre-reviews/come-from-away-heart-warming-musical-lives-up-to-the-hype/article33012704/
Aaron Neville, with Keef playing in the background. "My True Story." What a sweet sweet voice.
This morning, I instituted my new "habits" routine, thanks to Gretchen Rubin's book. I won't write too much about it yet.
"Sugar on the Floor." Etta James. The world is full of glory. I am officially over what I call the Trump Slump - weeks there when it seemed hopeless, the world was doomed, human beings are hopeless, hopeless, petty, vicious, stupid, racist, blind and selfish. But - what's the point of that? There have been dire situations before, and on we go.
"Solid R and B," says Keef. "Freddy Scott." Whom I've never heard of. Gorgeous. "Are you lonely for me, baby?"
Music. What would the world be without music?
Gregory Isaacs. "One of the best songwriters from Jamaica." "Extra Classic." Which at the end he chooses as his favourite of all.
"Mozart is my man, basically," says Keef, but as his classical choice, he has plumped for the only composer Mozart spoke highly of, apparently - Vivaldi. "Spring" from his Four Seasons.
His final piece: "Top of the line R and B - 'Key to the highway,' Muddy Waters. Because if I'm on a desert island - where's the highway?"
Celebrate that Keith Richards is alive in 2017. Now that's a miracle. Listen for yourself. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b06kb0fw
PS An ad in the Globe today: "Considering renouncing your US citizenship? Make sure you renounce the right way." A seminar is being offered by tax law firm Moody Gartner.
Can you imagine? The Decline and Fall. We are watching it happen.
Keef's next choice: Hank Williams. Ooo that's sad.
This afternoon, glorious - I was smart enough to get one of the last tickets to Come From Away, the Mirvish-produced musical that closes tomorrow and opens on Broadway in February. It's about what happened in Gander, Newfoundland, on 9/11, when 38 international flights were grounded in Nfld. on their way to NYC. The tiny community leapt into action, feeding and sheltering almost 7000 people from around the world for days. A fantastic story, all true, joyful, magical, and now a joyful, magical musical about human generosity and kindness in desperate times. I wonder what cynical NYC will make of it. Surely the timing is perfect - in this time of Trump, the world needs to be reminded, as often as possible, of the goodness possible in the human soul. My guess is that half the audience will want to move to Newfoundland. And they'd be right.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/theatre-and-performance/theatre-reviews/come-from-away-heart-warming-musical-lives-up-to-the-hype/article33012704/
Aaron Neville, with Keef playing in the background. "My True Story." What a sweet sweet voice.
This morning, I instituted my new "habits" routine, thanks to Gretchen Rubin's book. I won't write too much about it yet.
"Sugar on the Floor." Etta James. The world is full of glory. I am officially over what I call the Trump Slump - weeks there when it seemed hopeless, the world was doomed, human beings are hopeless, hopeless, petty, vicious, stupid, racist, blind and selfish. But - what's the point of that? There have been dire situations before, and on we go.
"Solid R and B," says Keef. "Freddy Scott." Whom I've never heard of. Gorgeous. "Are you lonely for me, baby?"
Music. What would the world be without music?
Gregory Isaacs. "One of the best songwriters from Jamaica." "Extra Classic." Which at the end he chooses as his favourite of all.
"Mozart is my man, basically," says Keef, but as his classical choice, he has plumped for the only composer Mozart spoke highly of, apparently - Vivaldi. "Spring" from his Four Seasons.
His final piece: "Top of the line R and B - 'Key to the highway,' Muddy Waters. Because if I'm on a desert island - where's the highway?"
Celebrate that Keith Richards is alive in 2017. Now that's a miracle. Listen for yourself. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b06kb0fw
PS An ad in the Globe today: "Considering renouncing your US citizenship? Make sure you renounce the right way." A seminar is being offered by tax law firm Moody Gartner.
Can you imagine? The Decline and Fall. We are watching it happen.
January 6, 2017
writer Rita Davies in the Globe
Proud that my longterm writing student Rita Davies has a lovely piece in the Globe today, a piece she started in class, as she continues to explore her exotic childhood. Brava, Rita.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/facts-and-arguments/my-mothers-childhood-tales-of-russian-christmas-are-a-cherished-holidaytreat/article33513111/
And remember, registration is open but will soon be closed for my courses, Life Stories II at U of T and True to Life at Ryerson, so if you're interested, you need to register now. Please get in touch or check my website if you need more information.
I'm in bed, still battling the bug. The sun is shining and it's bitterly cold; I see a student editing client this afternoon but otherwise can take it easy.
For your viewing pleasure: Here's a famous musician embracing a famous fashion designer who happens to be his daughter. I know from my Macca websites that he and his wife and daughter Stella and her husband are vacationing on St. Barts. I hate that people take pictures of them, but this is a beautiful series, as he wraps her in a towel, hugs her and gives her a kiss. Is there a better feeling than your father enfolding you and keeping you warm?
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/facts-and-arguments/my-mothers-childhood-tales-of-russian-christmas-are-a-cherished-holidaytreat/article33513111/
And remember, registration is open but will soon be closed for my courses, Life Stories II at U of T and True to Life at Ryerson, so if you're interested, you need to register now. Please get in touch or check my website if you need more information.
I'm in bed, still battling the bug. The sun is shining and it's bitterly cold; I see a student editing client this afternoon but otherwise can take it easy.
For your viewing pleasure: Here's a famous musician embracing a famous fashion designer who happens to be his daughter. I know from my Macca websites that he and his wife and daughter Stella and her husband are vacationing on St. Barts. I hate that people take pictures of them, but this is a beautiful series, as he wraps her in a towel, hugs her and gives her a kiss. Is there a better feeling than your father enfolding you and keeping you warm?
January 5, 2017
conversation, music and habit: "Better Than Before"
Some interesting things to report on today, which isn't bad considering I'm still stuffed up and achey.
As many of you know, I shop regularly at Doubletake, the secondhand store run by the Yonge St. Mission and staffed almost entirely by recent immigrants from Bangladesh. They're friendly warm women, and as I chatted with them through the years, I realized they were hungry for conversation in English and to know more about Canada. I decided to start a conversation circle and invited Jasmine and Rani, the ones I knew best, to my house for tea. It was a nice encounter but a bit awkward, perhaps too intimidating in my personal space - they brought a magnificent azalea and a pile of desserts that must have cost them a lot.
Talking recently with a good friend at the Y, Linda, I told her about my idea, and she knew just whom to go to. Linda has volunteered for years at CRC, the resource centre in Regent Park, where many new immigrants live. And so this morning, I had a meeting with Linda and Ashrafi, who runs programs at CRC and, it turns out, has wanted for a long time to set up a conversation circle.
We're starting mid-February. I will assemble a group of English-speaking volunteers, she'll make a flyer and assemble women who want to speak English, and we'll meet once a week to drink tea and coffee and talk. The goal is to help immigrants from all over the world feel comfortable and safe and to give them the opportunity to speak English, to learn about Canada from Canadians, and to talk about their own homelands. With perhaps, at certain points, some simple elements of grammar and English composition.
I'm thrilled this is coming together right now, as the world watches in horror and disbelief while the appalling spectacle continues south of the border. One way we citizens can defeat or at least diminish the forces of darkness is to try to make our own neighbourhood a kinder place. Stay tuned.
Then, in the afternoon, my first post-Xmas piano lesson. At the end of each class, as I disintegrate, fumble and bang, I remember the mantra to prevent brain loss in old age: DO SOMETHING HARD. Done and done. My fingers forget, my mind forgets, I get nervous and frustrated and it's all excruciatingly slow, but it's also one of the most thrilling adventures of my aging life. Tonight there was a short doc on Glenn Gould on TV, and they showed him playing the Aria from the Goldbergs. I also play it, at least, the first, very simple part, before it gets fast and impossible. You will not be surprised to learn that Beth Kaplan's version does not sound one iota like Glenn Gould's. And yet - it's recognizable. It's clumsy and halting but it's music, with my fingers on the keyboard. A gift.
There were three books waiting for me at the library yesterday; today I'm reading Gretchen Rubin's Better than before: Mastering the habits of our everyday lives. She's a bit perky, but she's honest and charming and has done a lot of research on habit. She divides people into four Tendencies: Upholders, Questioners, Obligers, and Rebels. (Even all those caps are too damn perky.) I thought I was a Questioner but I'm an Obliger, which means I need external motivation, accountability, to accomplish anything. It's true - I exercise at the Y (once or twice a week) because it's a regular class and friends like Linda know if I'm there or not; I practice the piano (a little) because my teacher is waiting. But I often put off getting to my desk, finding other important things to do, because - who cares? Who is waiting for my words? My need to write is often superseded by other needs.
Which Tendency are you?
http://gretchenrubin.com/happiness_project/2015/01/ta-da-the-launch-of-my-quiz-on-the-four-tendencies-learn-about-yourself/
I have tried for years to find or create a writing group of peers to whom I'd be accountable, without success, though my beloved home students have tried. Anyway, I'm only halfway through Rubin's book, but I think it'll be an important one for me.
More important, though, right now, is regaining my own perkiness. Any day now.
As many of you know, I shop regularly at Doubletake, the secondhand store run by the Yonge St. Mission and staffed almost entirely by recent immigrants from Bangladesh. They're friendly warm women, and as I chatted with them through the years, I realized they were hungry for conversation in English and to know more about Canada. I decided to start a conversation circle and invited Jasmine and Rani, the ones I knew best, to my house for tea. It was a nice encounter but a bit awkward, perhaps too intimidating in my personal space - they brought a magnificent azalea and a pile of desserts that must have cost them a lot.
Talking recently with a good friend at the Y, Linda, I told her about my idea, and she knew just whom to go to. Linda has volunteered for years at CRC, the resource centre in Regent Park, where many new immigrants live. And so this morning, I had a meeting with Linda and Ashrafi, who runs programs at CRC and, it turns out, has wanted for a long time to set up a conversation circle.
We're starting mid-February. I will assemble a group of English-speaking volunteers, she'll make a flyer and assemble women who want to speak English, and we'll meet once a week to drink tea and coffee and talk. The goal is to help immigrants from all over the world feel comfortable and safe and to give them the opportunity to speak English, to learn about Canada from Canadians, and to talk about their own homelands. With perhaps, at certain points, some simple elements of grammar and English composition.
I'm thrilled this is coming together right now, as the world watches in horror and disbelief while the appalling spectacle continues south of the border. One way we citizens can defeat or at least diminish the forces of darkness is to try to make our own neighbourhood a kinder place. Stay tuned.
Then, in the afternoon, my first post-Xmas piano lesson. At the end of each class, as I disintegrate, fumble and bang, I remember the mantra to prevent brain loss in old age: DO SOMETHING HARD. Done and done. My fingers forget, my mind forgets, I get nervous and frustrated and it's all excruciatingly slow, but it's also one of the most thrilling adventures of my aging life. Tonight there was a short doc on Glenn Gould on TV, and they showed him playing the Aria from the Goldbergs. I also play it, at least, the first, very simple part, before it gets fast and impossible. You will not be surprised to learn that Beth Kaplan's version does not sound one iota like Glenn Gould's. And yet - it's recognizable. It's clumsy and halting but it's music, with my fingers on the keyboard. A gift.
There were three books waiting for me at the library yesterday; today I'm reading Gretchen Rubin's Better than before: Mastering the habits of our everyday lives. She's a bit perky, but she's honest and charming and has done a lot of research on habit. She divides people into four Tendencies: Upholders, Questioners, Obligers, and Rebels. (Even all those caps are too damn perky.) I thought I was a Questioner but I'm an Obliger, which means I need external motivation, accountability, to accomplish anything. It's true - I exercise at the Y (once or twice a week) because it's a regular class and friends like Linda know if I'm there or not; I practice the piano (a little) because my teacher is waiting. But I often put off getting to my desk, finding other important things to do, because - who cares? Who is waiting for my words? My need to write is often superseded by other needs.
Which Tendency are you?
http://gretchenrubin.com/happiness_project/2015/01/ta-da-the-launch-of-my-quiz-on-the-four-tendencies-learn-about-yourself/
I have tried for years to find or create a writing group of peers to whom I'd be accountable, without success, though my beloved home students have tried. Anyway, I'm only halfway through Rubin's book, but I think it'll be an important one for me.
More important, though, right now, is regaining my own perkiness. Any day now.
January 4, 2017
a message from Honolulu
Just heard from one of last term's young students, telling me how much she enjoyed the class.
I'm so glad I took your course. Digging up those stories from the past was really important for me. It also led me to have some very honest conversations with my parents. Our relationship is a lot better for it now.
Glad to hear that! Thank you for letting me know.
And I received a beautiful letter from Harriet in Honolulu, my friend Penny's friend who last December lent us her condo in Kauai and later an apartment in Honolulu too - a kind and generous friend indeed. She had asked to read my books so I brought them to her. She wrote that she has read the "Jewish Shakespeare" twice "and enjoyed learning about early Jewish culture and their theatre and about your family. I contacted the Jewish community here in Honolulu. They said they would like to add the book to their library so I took it to their office. Wouldn't it be exciting to find a connection to someone here?"
Yes it certainly would. Yes right about now, as I get over this cold and look out at the frozen wasteland that is Toronto in January, discovering a relative in Hawaii that I need to go and visit would be very fine. But in the meantime, I have a good friend there, which is just as important. Thank you, Harriet, for the calendar you sent with pictures of your hot bright homeland. Makes me want to get on a plane right now.
I'm human today, actually got dressed and went out into the bitter cold briefly and then did some editing work. Must not overdo it or it'll hit again, so now it's back to bed. A hard life - but someone's got to live it, and it will just have to be me.
P.S. FYI, below, the NYT just listed the places you MUST VISIT next year, and the #1 place is - yes, it is - #1 is Canada! So those of you who have not visited this glorious country yet, please come. Only not in January. Or February. Or March. And April's not so great either. Anytime between May and November, fabulous. See you soon.
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/travel/places-to-visit.html?smid=fb-nytimes&smtyp=cur
I'm so glad I took your course. Digging up those stories from the past was really important for me. It also led me to have some very honest conversations with my parents. Our relationship is a lot better for it now.
Glad to hear that! Thank you for letting me know.
And I received a beautiful letter from Harriet in Honolulu, my friend Penny's friend who last December lent us her condo in Kauai and later an apartment in Honolulu too - a kind and generous friend indeed. She had asked to read my books so I brought them to her. She wrote that she has read the "Jewish Shakespeare" twice "and enjoyed learning about early Jewish culture and their theatre and about your family. I contacted the Jewish community here in Honolulu. They said they would like to add the book to their library so I took it to their office. Wouldn't it be exciting to find a connection to someone here?"
Yes it certainly would. Yes right about now, as I get over this cold and look out at the frozen wasteland that is Toronto in January, discovering a relative in Hawaii that I need to go and visit would be very fine. But in the meantime, I have a good friend there, which is just as important. Thank you, Harriet, for the calendar you sent with pictures of your hot bright homeland. Makes me want to get on a plane right now.
I'm human today, actually got dressed and went out into the bitter cold briefly and then did some editing work. Must not overdo it or it'll hit again, so now it's back to bed. A hard life - but someone's got to live it, and it will just have to be me.
P.S. FYI, below, the NYT just listed the places you MUST VISIT next year, and the #1 place is - yes, it is - #1 is Canada! So those of you who have not visited this glorious country yet, please come. Only not in January. Or February. Or March. And April's not so great either. Anytime between May and November, fabulous. See you soon.
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/travel/places-to-visit.html?smid=fb-nytimes&smtyp=cur
January 3, 2017
Beth's classes starting mid-January
Re the winter term classes coming up:
At Ryerson, the evening class, True to Life, which starts Monday Jan. 16 at 6.30, is filling up, only a few spots left, so if you're interested, act quickly.
For those who've taken my course before or have a great deal of writing experience, consider Life Stories II, the advanced section of my course at U of T, in the afternoon starting at 12.30 Tuesday Jan. 17. There is room.
If you've completed Life Stories I, here's your opportunity to begin developing a manuscript, building on the strengths you've gained and the discoveries you've made. Delve into the art and craft of revision and focus on longer pieces.Winter - 17In-classDowntown/St. George
What a good day to stay in bed - it's forbidding out there, dark and wet. My poor daughter, with two little boys, stuck inside all day. She suggested a trip to Allen Gardens and then a visit here, but not today, my darling, definitely not today, I'm in bed with my nose, my throat and my head. Luckily my dear cleaning lady and friend, Marisha, is here. I lay in clean sheets while she mopped the floor around me and felt like a queen.
I have all I need: humidifier, Kleenex, water, computer and a stack of books. Someone left Samantha Bee's memoir I know I am, but what are you? in the Little Free Library, so I'm reading that - funny and horrifying - plus two big wonderful tomes: Lynda Barry's book about creativity, What it is, and the gorgeous Letters of Note: correspondence deserving of a wider audience, a magnificent book of letters from writers famous and unknown, ancient and modern, given to me a few Christmasses ago by Patsy and revisited with enormous pleasure today.
I must find my copies of John Berger's books and add them to the stack, if I'm going to be lying here for awhile. It's hard for me to confess that though I know he was a fantastic man and mind, though I've seen a play based on his principles and read many interviews, still, because I am a SHALLOW, SPEEDY PERSON, I have not finished a single one of his books. Must change that. If I could lie here for a week, I'd get a lot of reading done. But my restless legs would go mad. They already are twitching away. Time for tea and snack. Had to cancel a date with Ken to see Almadovar's Julieta. So behind in my films - at least four must-sees on right now.
Last night, I turned on CBC's Ideas - it was Michael Enright repeating important interviews from his Sunday show, all of them spectacular, one a woman from Glasgow, once the murder capital of Europe, who has hugely diminished the crime and gang culture there by paying attention to early childhood and even animal cruelty - making vets aware that violence against women and children often begins against animals. Brilliant. A woman who worked in NYC to transform transportation, hugely increasing the importance of pedestrian walkways, parks, open space and bike paths. LOVED it. A Finn who told Michael about the Finnish education system, which emphasizes play and happiness over performance and testing.
Does radio get better than that? I don't think so and wrote them afterward to say so.
Over and out. May you keep warm with a clear nose and head: my wish for all of you today.
Oh, one more thing - writers, consider entering this.
http://www.cbc.ca/books/2016/01/cbc-creative-nonfiction-prize-is-now-open.html
At Ryerson, the evening class, True to Life, which starts Monday Jan. 16 at 6.30, is filling up, only a few spots left, so if you're interested, act quickly.
For those who've taken my course before or have a great deal of writing experience, consider Life Stories II, the advanced section of my course at U of T, in the afternoon starting at 12.30 Tuesday Jan. 17. There is room.
If you've completed Life Stories I, here's your opportunity to begin developing a manuscript, building on the strengths you've gained and the discoveries you've made. Delve into the art and craft of revision and focus on longer pieces.Winter - 17In-classDowntown/St. George
What a good day to stay in bed - it's forbidding out there, dark and wet. My poor daughter, with two little boys, stuck inside all day. She suggested a trip to Allen Gardens and then a visit here, but not today, my darling, definitely not today, I'm in bed with my nose, my throat and my head. Luckily my dear cleaning lady and friend, Marisha, is here. I lay in clean sheets while she mopped the floor around me and felt like a queen.
I have all I need: humidifier, Kleenex, water, computer and a stack of books. Someone left Samantha Bee's memoir I know I am, but what are you? in the Little Free Library, so I'm reading that - funny and horrifying - plus two big wonderful tomes: Lynda Barry's book about creativity, What it is, and the gorgeous Letters of Note: correspondence deserving of a wider audience, a magnificent book of letters from writers famous and unknown, ancient and modern, given to me a few Christmasses ago by Patsy and revisited with enormous pleasure today.
I must find my copies of John Berger's books and add them to the stack, if I'm going to be lying here for awhile. It's hard for me to confess that though I know he was a fantastic man and mind, though I've seen a play based on his principles and read many interviews, still, because I am a SHALLOW, SPEEDY PERSON, I have not finished a single one of his books. Must change that. If I could lie here for a week, I'd get a lot of reading done. But my restless legs would go mad. They already are twitching away. Time for tea and snack. Had to cancel a date with Ken to see Almadovar's Julieta. So behind in my films - at least four must-sees on right now.
Last night, I turned on CBC's Ideas - it was Michael Enright repeating important interviews from his Sunday show, all of them spectacular, one a woman from Glasgow, once the murder capital of Europe, who has hugely diminished the crime and gang culture there by paying attention to early childhood and even animal cruelty - making vets aware that violence against women and children often begins against animals. Brilliant. A woman who worked in NYC to transform transportation, hugely increasing the importance of pedestrian walkways, parks, open space and bike paths. LOVED it. A Finn who told Michael about the Finnish education system, which emphasizes play and happiness over performance and testing.
Does radio get better than that? I don't think so and wrote them afterward to say so.
Over and out. May you keep warm with a clear nose and head: my wish for all of you today.
Oh, one more thing - writers, consider entering this.
http://www.cbc.ca/books/2016/01/cbc-creative-nonfiction-prize-is-now-open.html
