Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 172

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Be still my beating heart.

Hold Pickup NoticeHi  ELIZABETH KAPLAN,The following items are now available for pickup:Paul McCartney : the life / Philip Norman

for your reading pleasure

And on the other hand, I saw this at Ryerson last week, the list of prize-winning students. Check out those names - not the names that would have been there 20 or 30 years ago. These are the people the idiot above is warning us against, those who have no truck with the American or Canadian dream, some fond, misty, rosy lie about what was. They're just forging the future. Go Bethlehem, Perfecto, Orsam, Madhu, Vickness, Anna, Mary, Johnson, Bryan and Shu!

Cabbagetown house for rent July 1-6

I am going to New York in July! My cousin Ted, who lives at 77th and 3rd, has always been extremely generous with his apartment, which has made regular visits to NYC, the city of my birth and my father's entire family, possible for me. But I have not been for a few years. This time, he said I could use his flat while he's in the country over the July 4th weekend, so I'm there from July 1 to 6. I'm going, most importantly, to see Cousin Lola, who's 94, exactly the age my father would have been if he were alive. And the exhibition on the Yiddish theatre at the Museum of the City of New York, featuring the noble bust of my great-grandfather. Otherwise - strolling, seeing theatre, trying not to think about the exchange rate on the dollar. It's all possible thanks to Ted's apartment.

My son is happy to live here at the house while I'm away, but I'm letting you, my bloggees, know I'll be away then in case you know someone who wants to come to Toronto around that time and would like a downtown place to stay. This is, as many of you know, quite a nice house and garden in a very nice location. Please let me know.

Also possible - a week or two in August. Again, please get in touch.

My ex went home yesterday, and I collapsed. What a lot of big personalities together in one small room, including the baby and Eli! And yet, no problem. It was a wonderful visit, and at the end, I was drained. Was going to do various cultural things and instead, when my handyman John offered a ride to Canadian Tire, I went with pleasure, buying solar lights, a new trowel - a new trowel! - and other exciting goodies.

And today, to a toy store with Wayson to buy Duplo for a certain four year-old dear to my heart. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, travel is in the air - all's right with the world.

the famdamly

Great blessings, despite this crazy Sunday, with weather that ranged from hot sun to sleet to chilly rain to hail ... freezing! And then sun. Glad I didn't plant anything last weekend.

Yesterday, Eli's fourth birthday party, and miraculously, the horrible weather cleared just enough to let the kids play in Anna's yard. The many many kids - perhaps 12 or more, ranging from 8 months to 8 years. Insane - and if they'd had to be inside, impossible. But they rampaged on the slide and scooters in the yard while the adults, many of them, huddled inside. Anna of course had prepared vast quantities of food, Thomas barbecued, friends brought more food, the birthday cake was spectacular, the birthday boy had a very good time, and all was well. Grandpa and I, who got there at one p.m., and Uncle Sam, who came at 5, were all happy to escape at 7, leaving a giant mess for the hostess, who was fine with it all.

Today, a long slow morning with two of my favourite grown-up men, and then the family arrived and chaos ensued. Despite the weather, we walked to the Farm.
Lunch - all over the face, the high chair, and the floor
Sam's latest girlfriend whispers sweet nothings
 The boys
The beloveds. Sam was chasing the stroller which was rolling down the hill.

This afternoon - I thought of my friends Lynn and Denis in France, who play host to their many children and grandchildren in the summer, and much, much cooking is expected. This afternoon we were all here, and the TV went on - the Raptors were playing Game 7, the semi-finals, an important game. To some. "As if it matters," I scoffed, and Anna said, "Says my mother, who is one of the seven people who watches the Gillers!" The Canadian fiction awards. She's right.

True. They watched, we ordered Swiss Chalet take-out, they ate chicken and fries watching the game - an exciting game and the Raptors won! - while I bathed babies and played with them and saw the end of the game. It was not a French family gathering, it was a Canadian one; the food was not nearly as good, no question, but it was a hell of a lot less work. And the Raptors won!

Now Grandpa is off at Sam's bar with him for some drinks, Anna is at home putting her boys to bed, and I'm cleaning up and going to watch "Call the Midwife." "Come back to watch it with me," I told my son. "It's about midwifery in England in the Fifties."
"And what time is it over?" he asked.

I love them all so much, and the best thing is, we make each other laugh. A lot.

And for final good news, this was the headline of an article in the Guardian:
Books are back. Only the technodazzled thought they would go away.

Anne Lamott

Sitting here on a gloomy wet Saturday morning with a man I know well at my breakfast table, reading the paper, both of us in pajamas and slippers. He and I were married for ten years and have two children and two grandchildren, and the fact that we've been divorced since 1990 does not matter one bit any more to our friendship and love.

One of life's great victories. Truly.

Poor Anna has a big party this afternoon, at least 30 people including many small children, and it's dark and very wet. But if anyone can cope, it's my daughter, a born hostess. Ed and I are going to pick up the birthday cake and get over there early to see if we can help, but chances are, we will just watch her organize. That's what she does.

Last night I went to see the wonderful writer Anne Lamott, author of the highly recommended "Bird by Bird," giving the Henri Nouwen lecture. Because I worked, albeit briefly, at L'Arche, I know of Nouwen, a renowned Jesuit and intensely spiritual man who has written many books. So I guess I should not have been surprised that the evening was slanted quite so powerfully toward Christianity, God and Jesus. But it was slanted a bit too much for me.

Lamott was very funny and open and had some great lines. To writers, she said, "Trust me, there's not a single person in your family who will be glad you're writing a memoir." True!
Her mother was English. "There's a twelve step program," she said, "for the children of the English." Been there, done that, only for me it was called psychoanalysis.
"Get your books at an independent bookstore," she said,"you'll have a better seat in heaven." Yes!
Presbyterians - "God's frozen chosen."

She talked about radical self love - that a successful life requires radical self love, service and quiet. I liked that. Meditate, she said. "Learn to bear the stillness." "Trust and surrender." But still, she talked of filling "the god-shaped hole within." Presumably, her god-shaped hole is filled with God. I will just have to continue filling mine with dark chocolate, red wine and the love of family and friends. That seems to do me just fine.

Here are a few things for your edification: another grammar error, a misplaced modifier that's a headline in the Guardian on-line today - shame on you, Guardian. I didn't know Trump was an American muslim! What a turn around. Was he born in Kenya?
"As an American Muslim, Donald Trump doesn’t scare me."
Yesterday with Grampa, visiting the firehall with the drop-in kids. One of these boys is off-the-charts big, and the other is off-the-charts small. It'll be great - Ben will have a big BIG brother to protect him at school. Always thinking ahead, is Glamma.

Tony Kushner - an intelligent homosexual's guide...

A long slow spring - sunny but still chilly, especially at night. That's okay; we can wait. The city is beautiful with bloom, but my forsythia, which is usually spent by now, has yet to flower. 

Lungs better, nearly well, though not quite. But I'm back on my bicycle, a sure sign that strength is returning. What joy that I can get to U of T entirely on the safe, separated bike track along Wellesley. Thankful, too, for the new Bloor St. bike track, whenever it appears. Slowly the city becomes enlightened after the Ford years - aka the Dark Ages. 

On Monday night, a huge treat - I went to hear a talk by the superb playwright/screenwriter/all round genius Tony Kushner. Yes, I have an added bond with him because he was kind enough to write and send the blurb that's on the front and back of my Jewish Shakespeare book. But I'd be a huge admirer anyway after seeing his magnificent plays Caroline or Change, the Angels in America plays, the Intelligent Homosexual's Guide etc. 

It was a a stimulating, entertaining, thought-provoking evening with an extraordinary man, so honest, gracious and self-deprecating, extremely funny and knowledgeable. I learned a great deal about the theater, writing, playwriting, screenwriting. And once more, as I have so often, I fell in love with a brilliant artistic gay man. 


There was a controversy about the talk - a major Jewish group in Toronto urged a boycott because Kushner is a member of an organization urging peace between the Palestinians and the Israelis. He addressed the issue: growing up in the deep south, he said, if you ever challenged the orthodox view – that slaves liked being slaves, were treated well, everything was fine – you’d be met with vehement denial and rage. He realized that they knew they were spouting lies and so had to hold the edifice up with all their might, because the minute they allowed a hole to be poked in it, the whole thing might fall down.
That’s the way he feels about people who won’t brook discussion about Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians: they’re clinging to a fantasy version of Israel and can't bear to try to see the truth. Even in Israel, he said, there is ferocious discussion about these things, whereas in the States, and I guess in Canada too, he said, no discussion  is allowed. McCarthy-ite, he called it; I agree and so did the entire audience, which gave him a rousing ovation. 
He talked about the 8 year nervous breakdown white men have been having in the US because there’s a black president and he’s really good at his job and he’s STILL THERE! And he talked about the many incredible people he knows, including Spielberg and Sondheim. It was all riveting. Thank you, Koffler Centre for the Arts, for bringing him in and having the courage to stand by him all the way.
Tuesday, another thrill - my friend Curtis came back to hear the other half of my memoir manuscript. And he still likes it. This is what he said: "A masterful work of art, highly entertaining. A fascinating journey." I had to pay him a great deal for that. LOL. Now I have a ton of work to do - there's a huge structural problem, lots of rewrites, cuts etc. But I am heartened and full of cheer. There are flowers, there's a potential book, there is genius in the world. Onward. 
Speaking on onward, a tall young man is moving out into the world. So big! This boy is THREE. For two more weeks. 
And one more thing - I was really disappointed to receive the Short Form Census. What wonderful geeks we Canadians be.

Happy Mother's (and Writer's) Day

Cup runneth over this morning. Sun shining though it's chilly. Lungs still hurt but whatever, as they say. Friend Shari is coming over soon for brunch. And on my computer this morning were these delicious gifts:

A writer friend who'd asked me to edit some pages of her manuscript did not respond after I sent them back to her. Finally, afraid I'd hurt her, I wrote to ask if my edits had not been helpful - I really wanted to know if I'd done something wrong. She just wrote, "Heavens Beth I'm so grateful for your comments -- and embarrassed that I didn't acknowledge them! Thank you so much for taking the time and trouble to think about the writing and give your feedback: it is so much appreciated! I will take everything you say to heart, you can count on that."

Okay, one less thing to worry about.

My friend Grace, a U of T student who helps me with social media and throwing stuff out, wrote to say she has time next Friday. YES! Friend and student Rita sent pictures of Beatles from China, where she's visiting right now. Others, including dear friend Gretchen, wrote sending good wishes to my sick self.

And then this - Curtis, who listened to half my manuscript yesterday, wrote:
It's a wonderful book, beautifully and eloquently written, with a fascinating story that draws the reader in and generates empathy, sympathy and emotion. It's got great humour in places too. I am pleased you feel my comments were helpful. I most certainly want to hear the rest of the story.

Now, I must remember he is an old friend and now also student. But still. Thank you, thank you. 

And finally, this greatest of gifts, sent with Mother's Day wishes:
I'm going over there this afternoon. My body may not be in perfect shape but my heart certainly is.

it works

First, it's impossible to complain about anything these days, when Fort McMurray is first in our thoughts, the photos of the horrendous destruction growing more apocalyptic by the hour. How to rebuild an entire city and all its lives? I salute Alberta's socialist premier Rachel Notley, who inherited a nightmare - an oil-rich province reeling and broke from the drop in oil prices - and is growing stronger as the nightmare gets worse. She's spectacular. 

On the plus side, London has just elected Sadiq Khan, the Muslim son of a bus driver, as its mayor. I try to imagine my British grandparents, Percy and Marion Leadbeater, who lived in London, reading in the Times about Sadiq Khan. For them, my Jewish father from New York was the furthest reaches of exotic and difficult to understand and accept. But that was a long time ago. Thanks - yet again - to a non-Muslim man called Barack Obama, who certainly helped clear the way for this revolutionary election.

I've just had an amazing and exhausting day. On Thursday I asked my home students for volunteers; I wanted to read this memoir draft out loud, which I’ve never done before but thought it would be valuable, and wanted another pair of ears. My old friend and now student Curtis Barlow, once the Canadian cultural ambassador to England and head of various Canadian arts institutions, a supremely knowledgeable and sophisticated man, offered to come listen. When he arrived, I was breathless with terror. Today, from 11.45 till 5.15, he sat patiently listening to me read in my hoarse, barely getting over the flu voice. I only got halfway, but it was a fantastic experience; he had great insights about what he heard, and I heard, too, bits that I thought were weak or not. 

But mostly - he loved it. He loved the writing and the story and wants to hear the rest, he wants to know what happened to that young woman. Of course, he’s an artsy guy and a dear friend who knows many of the people in the tale, not the average Canadian reader - but then, I’m not writing for her, I guess. Perhaps all my writing is for people like Curtis Barlow.

Anyway, now my throat hurts and I need to not think for awhile. But it was thrilling, absorbing, reading intimate details of my past life aloud to a friend and fellow writer whom I respect, like and trust. Many more pages, the other half of the book to go - we're going to try to find time. But if not, I've already had a huge boost. And now have a long list of things to fix and rewrite. It ain't over yet, not by a long shot. But today, I know it's real and it works.

At least, for friends.

Nettie Wild won!

She won!! What wonderful news on this beautiful spring day. Nettie Wild's extraordinarily beautiful and powerful film, Koneline: our land beautiful, won the Best Canadian Feature Documentary award at Hot Docs tonight. Brava, Nettie. So well-deserved. I hope it will soon be in a cinema near you.
Hot Docs 2016 Festival Award Winners Announced
On Friday, May 6, at a reception hosted by Garvia Bailey, host of Good Morning Toronto! on Jazz.FM91, at the Isabel Bader Theatre, 12 awards were presented to Canadian and international filmmakers, including awards for Festival films in competition and those recognizing emerging and established filmmakers.Best Canadian Feature Documentary Award
KONELĪNE: our land beautiful  (D: Nettie Wild; P: Betsy Carson; Canada)
Sponsored by the Documentary Organization of Canada, the award includes a $10,000 cash prize courtesy of Hot Docs.