Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 195
September 27, 2015
hot Sunday
A gorgeous bike ride on the Don Valley Trail this morning - the Parkway was closed, all was silent, except for the sound of summer closing down.
Later: Word on the Street, this year at Harbourfront. Hot hot hot. Marc Cote of Cormorant Books said his sales are way down in the new venue - not sure why. It's always overwhelming, so many books and writers. Usually I have a tinge of sadness that I'm not an official part of the day; at one point I worked at the PEN table and the Ryerson Creative Writing table, and I always dreamed that one day, one of my books would be on sale somewhere. Not yet. Much to celebrate in the work of others.
On the way home, parked the bike at Sugar Beach and started to read one of the books I'd bought - "Waking Up" by Sam Harris, "a guide to spirituality without religion". Just what I need: more books. Most of the ones I bought, luckily, were for Eli. Many people liked my anti-Harper button, and I gave a bunch away.Now listening to Eleanor Wachtel talk to a Mexican writer, and then - what else is a writer to do on a beautiful Sunday afternoon? Time to get some work done.
Here's my daughter's Sunday: I bought a shed in a box for her at the Cabbagetown Festival, but looking inside at the incredibly complicated instructions and hundreds of bits of metal, I thought we should just shut the box and sell it again or give it away - which is what the guys we bought it from had done. But Thomas, Eli's Dad, read the instructions carefully and began, spent all yesterday afternoon, and today with a friend, putting it together, with Eli playing at his feet. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a father who can do practical things. Mine knew many things but could do few things with his hands, besides play the violin. Wonderful to have a skilled man in the family.
September 26, 2015
wealth beyond my wildest dreams
Another stunning day - so much more precious because we know these warm sunny beautiful days are limited. Enjoyed every minute. Here are some shots old and new - click to enlarge:
From the Cabbagetown house tour last weekend - where my serious upper floor deck envy came from - this was one of several.
A typical humble child's humble, messy closet
The star, the house up the street that was renovated for two solid years
The all candidates meeting - democracy in a church hall.
This morning at Riverdale Farm - the centre of the metropolis
Goats having breakfast
Looking for turtles in the ponds. And then we went to our dance class at the Y, where once again, Glamma was grooving and her grandson was more or less motionless and stone-faced. "I don't feel like it," he said, when asked why he didn't dance. But he did twitch a few times. We'll try once more.
So exciting! Just checked my bank account - and the government of Canada is paying me for staying alive. Hard to live on it - but $835 a month that wasn't there before is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
Sep 28, 2015OLD AGE SECURITY $564.80
Sep 28, 2015CPP $270.08
From the Cabbagetown house tour last weekend - where my serious upper floor deck envy came from - this was one of several.
A typical humble child's humble, messy closet
The star, the house up the street that was renovated for two solid years
The all candidates meeting - democracy in a church hall. 
This morning at Riverdale Farm - the centre of the metropolis
Goats having breakfast
Looking for turtles in the ponds. And then we went to our dance class at the Y, where once again, Glamma was grooving and her grandson was more or less motionless and stone-faced. "I don't feel like it," he said, when asked why he didn't dance. But he did twitch a few times. We'll try once more.So exciting! Just checked my bank account - and the government of Canada is paying me for staying alive. Hard to live on it - but $835 a month that wasn't there before is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
Sep 28, 2015OLD AGE SECURITY $564.80
Sep 28, 2015CPP $270.08
September 25, 2015
love and tapes
My grandson is asleep upstairs, in the bedroom, the very spot where his uncle Sam used to sleep. Sam and I used to play a nighttime game called Lump. Why was it called Lump? The point really was tickling, and we both enjoyed it. Eli wants his special bedtime toys - Giraffy, his favourite stuffy, who he decided could live here and wait for his visits; the London taxi and the double-decker bus, the two yellow trucks, and the same books we read every time, Mog, some poems from Winnie the Pooh, and Harry the dirty dog. Routine; we have it down. And the main routine, that I am falling asleep and he is driving trucks all over the covers.
His mother is going to some drag queen extravaganza tonight, a friend is babysitting Ben, I've got Eli and she is FREE for a few hours. A pleasure to give her some time. It was a glorious day; Eli and I went to the Regent's Park playground, which has a squishy kind of ground cover that means if a child falls, s/he will not scrape knees and be hurt - where was that when we were growing up? We went home and watered the garden, his favourite activity; we ate supper which - contrary to my lofty goals - was mostly frozen French fries and fish sticks with lots of ketchup. Bath time was long and very wet. And then bed, in the exact spot where I used to put his uncle to bed, now a man whom I hardly ever see, six foot eight and covered with tattoos.
This afternoon I went into the dusty basement with my friend Grace, who comes to help me sort stuff every so often, and dove into the huge dusty boxes of old family pictures. OH so many - my kids, my childhood, my father and mother, their parents, their grandparents, going back at least a hundred years. Couldn't deal with the box, just brought it up and will sort it slowly.
BUT - here's the thing - I found a box of tapes. Tapes - remember them? For a tape machine? My beloved uncle Edgar the world bridge champion was a great lover of Baroque music, and when he travelled, he had to have his music with him, so before the advent of CD's, he made himself a series of Baroque mix tapes. They are beautiful and there are tons of them and I don't know what to do with them. I have lots of classical CD's, I don't need Uncle Edgar's tapes, but I can't throw them out. ANY IDEAS? ANY TAKERS? Anyone with a tape machine and a love of classical music is in for a treat - I will mail you this box, as long as it goes to a good home. Otherwise ... back to the basement. Please help me give them a new home.
It was the same with the box of old videotapes and, even older, film of family. I've had them all transferred to DVD, I think. But what if I missed some? Do I really think I'm going to go through all the old videotapes and compare them to the DVD's? GET A LIFE! And yet I could not throw them out.
So what's the point of sorting when it all just goes back? Well - at least I know what's there. A lot of old photos and tapes and videotapes, that's what's there. Old stuff. Luckily, upstairs in Sam's old bedroom, is some very new stuff, some 3 year old stuff. I could not love that 3 year old more; what joy, to look at him as he sleeps, snuffling with his cold. This week there is bad news in the newspapers, there's a groundbreaking Pope in the States - that pic of him and Obama laughing, so wonderful! We are all obsessed with the terror of this election, the possibility that vileness might triumph once again. But for a few blessed minutes tonight, all that mattered was a brown-haired head on the pillow.
His mother is going to some drag queen extravaganza tonight, a friend is babysitting Ben, I've got Eli and she is FREE for a few hours. A pleasure to give her some time. It was a glorious day; Eli and I went to the Regent's Park playground, which has a squishy kind of ground cover that means if a child falls, s/he will not scrape knees and be hurt - where was that when we were growing up? We went home and watered the garden, his favourite activity; we ate supper which - contrary to my lofty goals - was mostly frozen French fries and fish sticks with lots of ketchup. Bath time was long and very wet. And then bed, in the exact spot where I used to put his uncle to bed, now a man whom I hardly ever see, six foot eight and covered with tattoos.
This afternoon I went into the dusty basement with my friend Grace, who comes to help me sort stuff every so often, and dove into the huge dusty boxes of old family pictures. OH so many - my kids, my childhood, my father and mother, their parents, their grandparents, going back at least a hundred years. Couldn't deal with the box, just brought it up and will sort it slowly.
BUT - here's the thing - I found a box of tapes. Tapes - remember them? For a tape machine? My beloved uncle Edgar the world bridge champion was a great lover of Baroque music, and when he travelled, he had to have his music with him, so before the advent of CD's, he made himself a series of Baroque mix tapes. They are beautiful and there are tons of them and I don't know what to do with them. I have lots of classical CD's, I don't need Uncle Edgar's tapes, but I can't throw them out. ANY IDEAS? ANY TAKERS? Anyone with a tape machine and a love of classical music is in for a treat - I will mail you this box, as long as it goes to a good home. Otherwise ... back to the basement. Please help me give them a new home.
It was the same with the box of old videotapes and, even older, film of family. I've had them all transferred to DVD, I think. But what if I missed some? Do I really think I'm going to go through all the old videotapes and compare them to the DVD's? GET A LIFE! And yet I could not throw them out.
So what's the point of sorting when it all just goes back? Well - at least I know what's there. A lot of old photos and tapes and videotapes, that's what's there. Old stuff. Luckily, upstairs in Sam's old bedroom, is some very new stuff, some 3 year old stuff. I could not love that 3 year old more; what joy, to look at him as he sleeps, snuffling with his cold. This week there is bad news in the newspapers, there's a groundbreaking Pope in the States - that pic of him and Obama laughing, so wonderful! We are all obsessed with the terror of this election, the possibility that vileness might triumph once again. But for a few blessed minutes tonight, all that mattered was a brown-haired head on the pillow.
September 23, 2015
remarkably cheerful
Great news: http://www.zmonline.com/random-stuff/drinking-half-a-bottle-of-red-wine-before-bed-can-help-you-lose-weight/
Half a bottle! Be still my beating heart. AND Happy Birthday is now public domain. We can use its lyrics in our books and sing it in our films. As someone who was terrified to quote even a line or two of music in her Sixties memoir - so many great lyrics, unusable - this is good news. Let's pry open those music copyright doors, guys.
http://www.theguardian.com/business/2015/sep/23/us-judge-rules-happy-birthday-is-public-domain-throws-out-copyright-claim
It is a stunning day, hot, bright. Since waking up this morning I've been thinking, Beth Kaplan, this is the best day of your life, so far. I slept well, had a good breakfast and delicious coffee, worked at my beloved manuscript, heard from friends via email, messed around in my beloved house and watered the garden, which is still blooming, if faded - harvested a few tomatoes and one luscious strawberry. My beloved daughter called with a hilarious story about her older son, who takes everything literally; my only son, who has just had a promotion at work, texted. Went to the Y for a gruelling class and much chat with dear friends. Home for lunch, more delicious coffee, more email, Facebook, piano practice. Now more work, and my beloved Wayson coming for supper. I may just have to drink a few glasses of wine, just for my health.
Does it get better than that? Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you. Even if it's not.
Half a bottle! Be still my beating heart. AND Happy Birthday is now public domain. We can use its lyrics in our books and sing it in our films. As someone who was terrified to quote even a line or two of music in her Sixties memoir - so many great lyrics, unusable - this is good news. Let's pry open those music copyright doors, guys.
http://www.theguardian.com/business/2015/sep/23/us-judge-rules-happy-birthday-is-public-domain-throws-out-copyright-claim
It is a stunning day, hot, bright. Since waking up this morning I've been thinking, Beth Kaplan, this is the best day of your life, so far. I slept well, had a good breakfast and delicious coffee, worked at my beloved manuscript, heard from friends via email, messed around in my beloved house and watered the garden, which is still blooming, if faded - harvested a few tomatoes and one luscious strawberry. My beloved daughter called with a hilarious story about her older son, who takes everything literally; my only son, who has just had a promotion at work, texted. Went to the Y for a gruelling class and much chat with dear friends. Home for lunch, more delicious coffee, more email, Facebook, piano practice. Now more work, and my beloved Wayson coming for supper. I may just have to drink a few glasses of wine, just for my health.
Does it get better than that? Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you. Even if it's not.
September 22, 2015
the vote split on the left
Oh the confusions of democracy. I come from fierce NDP stock but have been wavering about on the left for years. Who to vote for, with Mulcair promising to balance the budget (what??!) and to allow separatism with only 51% of the vote (very dangerous) and Trudeau voting to support Bill C51 (bad move) and promising a deficit budget that invests in infrastructure (good move usually more NDP than Lib) ... Back and forth, splintering the vote on the left, not to mention the divisive Greens, while the Conservatives have hired some hideous rightwing adman and are hammering away at the paranoids about terrorism and financial collapse. It makes my head hurt.
My riding is so far left that at the all-candidates meeting I went to tonight, the Conservative didn't even bother to show up. The Green guy did but was an embarrassing lightweight, even he admitted it. That left two heavyweights - the NDP's Linda McQuaig and Liberal Bill Morneau. I have Linda's sign in front of my house, and several of my dear neighbours have been arguing with me relentlessly about the NDP's weak spots, so I went tonight to help make up my mind.
The tragedy is that they're both great candidates; he is very impressive and so is she. They agree on many things, including the shameful way the Harper government has responded to the refugee crisis. They agree on homelessness, on senior poverty, on immigration. They just disagree on how to pay to fix these things; Morneau talks the Lib line about a deficit budget for the next few years to pay for massive infrastructure investment in transit, housing, which will create employment.
McQuaig points out that the Libs are not talking about increasing the corporate tax rate; she says the NDP would tax the richest, invest heavily where the money is needed, including in universal child care, and still balance the books, "as Tommy Douglas did for seven straight budgets, while founding Medicare!" she said, to roars of applause, including mine.
I'm still torn. At the moment, since my vote doesn't matter anyway in terms of defeating the Conservatives, I'm going to vote for the woman who's such a feisty fighter with head, heart and soul. A friend who was at the meeting said, beforehand, "The last thing this riding needs is another wealthy businessman representing us." (Though I don't think any wealthy businessman have in fact ever represented us...) In any case, Bill Morneau is a great deal more than that; he's a terrific guy who has been on several meaningful boards - though also on the board of the small c conservative C. D. Howe Foundation - and has founded a school for girls in a refugee camp in Africa. But he doesn't need this the way she does. So I'm voting Linda. For now. But we have weeks to go. I'm exhausted already.
Speaking of the 10% - on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, I went on the Cabbagetown Tour of Homes, where for a fundraising fee we get to see a bunch of the classy houses of the 'hood. My neighbour Richard says it's simply about being able to admire interesting architecture, renovations and interior design, whereas I see it as rich people showing off their ridiculously expensive bathrooms and stoves and the vast number of pillows on their enormous beds. I wanted to see inside the house up the street, a wonderful mansion which took two years to renovate - and sure enough, it was renovated within an inch of its life and much too decorated for my taste, as were nearly all of them. The one I liked was the one where the inhabitants were reading really good books - Lydia Davis on the bedside table! Not THAT'S impressive. And an unpretentious comfortable well-used kitchen and good art. I liked them.
Oh my she's judgmental.
NOT judgmental Monday night at my class, where the students read their essays for the first time. Sheer pleasure to hear people open up and begin the journey into their own stories. OMG I love my job.
My riding is so far left that at the all-candidates meeting I went to tonight, the Conservative didn't even bother to show up. The Green guy did but was an embarrassing lightweight, even he admitted it. That left two heavyweights - the NDP's Linda McQuaig and Liberal Bill Morneau. I have Linda's sign in front of my house, and several of my dear neighbours have been arguing with me relentlessly about the NDP's weak spots, so I went tonight to help make up my mind.
The tragedy is that they're both great candidates; he is very impressive and so is she. They agree on many things, including the shameful way the Harper government has responded to the refugee crisis. They agree on homelessness, on senior poverty, on immigration. They just disagree on how to pay to fix these things; Morneau talks the Lib line about a deficit budget for the next few years to pay for massive infrastructure investment in transit, housing, which will create employment.
McQuaig points out that the Libs are not talking about increasing the corporate tax rate; she says the NDP would tax the richest, invest heavily where the money is needed, including in universal child care, and still balance the books, "as Tommy Douglas did for seven straight budgets, while founding Medicare!" she said, to roars of applause, including mine.
I'm still torn. At the moment, since my vote doesn't matter anyway in terms of defeating the Conservatives, I'm going to vote for the woman who's such a feisty fighter with head, heart and soul. A friend who was at the meeting said, beforehand, "The last thing this riding needs is another wealthy businessman representing us." (Though I don't think any wealthy businessman have in fact ever represented us...) In any case, Bill Morneau is a great deal more than that; he's a terrific guy who has been on several meaningful boards - though also on the board of the small c conservative C. D. Howe Foundation - and has founded a school for girls in a refugee camp in Africa. But he doesn't need this the way she does. So I'm voting Linda. For now. But we have weeks to go. I'm exhausted already.
Speaking of the 10% - on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, I went on the Cabbagetown Tour of Homes, where for a fundraising fee we get to see a bunch of the classy houses of the 'hood. My neighbour Richard says it's simply about being able to admire interesting architecture, renovations and interior design, whereas I see it as rich people showing off their ridiculously expensive bathrooms and stoves and the vast number of pillows on their enormous beds. I wanted to see inside the house up the street, a wonderful mansion which took two years to renovate - and sure enough, it was renovated within an inch of its life and much too decorated for my taste, as were nearly all of them. The one I liked was the one where the inhabitants were reading really good books - Lydia Davis on the bedside table! Not THAT'S impressive. And an unpretentious comfortable well-used kitchen and good art. I liked them.
Oh my she's judgmental.
NOT judgmental Monday night at my class, where the students read their essays for the first time. Sheer pleasure to hear people open up and begin the journey into their own stories. OMG I love my job.
today's tree
A descendant of the Royal Oak at Boscobel House, Shropshire, England, in which the future Charles II hid in 1651 after the Battle of Worcester. The image is one of the finalists in a contest run by the Woodland Trust to find this year’s best tree, out of more than 200 nominations.Woodland Trust
September 20, 2015
Beatles in 1965 and PETITION AGAINST SHELL
Hard to believe - can it be true? No, I guess it's not hard to believe at all, when you look at the Harper government's environmental track record- that is, their utter disdain for the future for the planet. PLEASE SIGN AND PASS ON.
Now I can watch the whole thing on very grainy tape from exactly the same pov. Wonderful to see French teenagers have such a good time, though they're infinitely more controlled than their US counterparts, and the boys themselves are obviously enjoying it all too - just the four of them and their tiny amps, that was it.
I'd discovered this clip myself and lost it - thanks to Alan Millen for sending it again. Poor Alan, at twelve, was too young to go when they played in Vancouver in 1964. My parents nearly didn't let me go either, but they knew I would never never never never never never never have forgiven them. So they gave in. And if you want to know more about the concert and Paris and Beatle love and growing up in the Sixties, THERE'S A VIVID AND UNFORGETTABLE BOOK!
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xzpj2_the-beatles-live-at-paris-1965_music
Friends,Okay, now that you've done your civic duty, relax, put your feet up and watch this not-very-clear but still delightful tape of the Beatles in Paris in June 1965. Your faithful correspondent was there, both at the afternoon show and the evening one, which is the one shown. And amazingly, it's shot from my vantage point - in the afternoon, as my friends know, I was in the eighth row centre, but in the evening I was on the right side facing the stage - JOHN'S side, I was chagrined to realize, not Paul's.
Canada has just given Shell permission to drill for oil off the coast of Nova Scotia -- and to let any blowout go uncapped for 21 days.
Can you join me in telling the Petroleum Board to refuse Shell’s application to drill in Nova Scotia?
http://action.sumofus.org/a/shell-21-day-blowout/?sub=mtl
Now I can watch the whole thing on very grainy tape from exactly the same pov. Wonderful to see French teenagers have such a good time, though they're infinitely more controlled than their US counterparts, and the boys themselves are obviously enjoying it all too - just the four of them and their tiny amps, that was it.
I'd discovered this clip myself and lost it - thanks to Alan Millen for sending it again. Poor Alan, at twelve, was too young to go when they played in Vancouver in 1964. My parents nearly didn't let me go either, but they knew I would never never never never never never never have forgiven them. So they gave in. And if you want to know more about the concert and Paris and Beatle love and growing up in the Sixties, THERE'S A VIVID AND UNFORGETTABLE BOOK!
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xzpj2_the-beatles-live-at-paris-1965_music
September 18, 2015
Heather Mallick for Prime Minister
SUPERB article sent by friend Bruce. Read it and weep. And get angry. And VOTE.
The Nixon of the North, by Heather Mallick | Harper's Magazine
And if this depresses you, Bruce, via his brother Stan, also just sent me this hilarious parody:
http://mentalfloss.com/article/27118/beatles-1000-years-later
The Nixon of the North, by Heather Mallick | Harper's Magazine
http://harpers.org/archive/2015/10/256735/
And if this depresses you, Bruce, via his brother Stan, also just sent me this hilarious parody:
http://mentalfloss.com/article/27118/beatles-1000-years-later
Emmylou Harris forever
Emmylou Harris - woo hoo! The woman is 68 years old and looks incredible - that glorious thick mane of silver hair, legs in tight ripped jeans and fringed cowboy boots, and that plangent voice, almost unchanged after 40 years on the road. Okay, there's been a bit of work on the very smooth face - but we'll forgive her. She's gorgeous.
It was a fantastic concert, beginning with Amy Helm and her band - she's Levon Helm's daughter and I'm now a huge fan, will get her CD. And then Emmylou with Rodney Crowell, who also has been around for decades though without the high profile of his friend. What an incredible group of five musicians they had with them, particularly the guitarist, absolutely brilliant. I loved every minute of it - wild, powerful, haunting, hurtin' music. Yee ha!
I also loved the fact that at 7.30 I was sitting in my kitchen in my work clothes (which means braless in t-shirt and sweatpants) and by 8.01 I was at Massey Hall - changed into basic black, hopped on my bike and zipped along Shuter St. It's such a wonderful old hall, luckily unrenovated and snazzied up - funky and friendly, just perfect. I saw K.D. Lang there many years ago, Handel's Messiah, have been to several protest meetings ... one of my favourite places in all Toronto.
Speaking of the favourite of favourites:
Be still my beating heart. Is there a more serious face than that one? There will be drama.
There's a giant raccoon waddling about my deck. And - I confess, I just looked up the word 'plangent' to be sure I was using it correctly. Yes.
Oh, and one more thing - I'd like to show you yesterday's Doubletake purchase. You never know what you'll find there - it's like fishing. So I wander about casting my line, and what I saw yesterday were two lovely, very heavy pewter picture frames for $6 each.
Checked at home - they're made by Royal Selangor, which it turns out is the pre-eminent pewter manufacturer in Britain, for the Victoria and Albert Museum. And I know which photograph will be the first to go in one of them. (See above.)
One more more thing: my children's board book submission to OwlKids was sent back yesterday, with a form letter. It's still out with one other publisher, so I'll wait for it to come back and then figure out what's next. Life is not all kittens, roses, music and pewter frames. There is REJECTION.
Moving right along.
It was a fantastic concert, beginning with Amy Helm and her band - she's Levon Helm's daughter and I'm now a huge fan, will get her CD. And then Emmylou with Rodney Crowell, who also has been around for decades though without the high profile of his friend. What an incredible group of five musicians they had with them, particularly the guitarist, absolutely brilliant. I loved every minute of it - wild, powerful, haunting, hurtin' music. Yee ha!
I also loved the fact that at 7.30 I was sitting in my kitchen in my work clothes (which means braless in t-shirt and sweatpants) and by 8.01 I was at Massey Hall - changed into basic black, hopped on my bike and zipped along Shuter St. It's such a wonderful old hall, luckily unrenovated and snazzied up - funky and friendly, just perfect. I saw K.D. Lang there many years ago, Handel's Messiah, have been to several protest meetings ... one of my favourite places in all Toronto.
Speaking of the favourite of favourites:
Be still my beating heart. Is there a more serious face than that one? There will be drama.There's a giant raccoon waddling about my deck. And - I confess, I just looked up the word 'plangent' to be sure I was using it correctly. Yes.
Oh, and one more thing - I'd like to show you yesterday's Doubletake purchase. You never know what you'll find there - it's like fishing. So I wander about casting my line, and what I saw yesterday were two lovely, very heavy pewter picture frames for $6 each.
Checked at home - they're made by Royal Selangor, which it turns out is the pre-eminent pewter manufacturer in Britain, for the Victoria and Albert Museum. And I know which photograph will be the first to go in one of them. (See above.)One more more thing: my children's board book submission to OwlKids was sent back yesterday, with a form letter. It's still out with one other publisher, so I'll wait for it to come back and then figure out what's next. Life is not all kittens, roses, music and pewter frames. There is REJECTION.
Moving right along.
