Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 227
December 9, 2014
P.S.
A small boy at the Battle of Passenchendaele - background at the War Museum in OttawaAt the end of our more than five hours on the train today, the woman across the aisle took Eli's hand and said, "You were such a good boy - are you always so quiet?" My jaw dropped and I said, "Really?!" It was a long hard journey for a small boy with a bad cough who'd been through the wringer - back and forth, several beds, many relatives, not nearly enough interesting places to climb. The whole trip is a blur; we were at the centre of a tornado - Hurricane Eli. But he WAS a good boy, if exhausting, stubborn and extremely opinionated. How can someone who wasn't even on the earth 3 years ago be such a fierce and commanding presence? But then, he's his mother's son, and the force of her personality shone through from birth.
It was worth it all to watch Do and Eli make friends and to spend time with one of the last links to my English past. We are close to the second anniversary of my mother's death on Christmas Day 2012; I'm grateful that her sister Do is soldiering on, as Mum used to say. The other day, she told me, a curtain came down and she got out her stepladder and tried to put it back. "I was fine," she said. "I put my phone near the ladder in case something happened."
We had a visit with my brother and his son and beautiful wife across the river in Quebec; he and I are still dealing with my mother's estate, some disagreements trying to get it done. We moved another step along this time. Anna, Eli and I ended up staying at his house last night, the 3 of us in their spare room, and at 4 a.m. my mind was still racing as I dealt with all that stuff. Family - not easy. But then - what is?
I'll tell you what is - COMING HOME.
Ottawa pix
Making cards for veterans at the War Museum - see how much space to run?
Two and ninety-four
Playing drums in Uncle Michael's basement 
Brushing teeth at the airbnb house - NOT, I repeat not an angel.
December 7, 2014
lovechild and war
Okay, so I've had easier trips.
We are staying in an Airbnb rental, rented because it's cheap and very near Auntie Do's - one very small room for me and a room with one big bed for Anna and Eli; the owner is in the next room and other renters are downstairs. So with a very energetic 2 year old up at dawn, the name of the game is trying to keep him quiet. Not easy. I repeat - not not not easy.
Add to that the fact that Ottawa is beyond cold - minus thirteen today but it felt much colder, bitter - as Anna says, Why do people LIVE here? She didn't bring enough warm clothes, Torontonian that she is. Eli is really quite sick, with an appalling cough - we really shouldn't have come, but it all took so long to arrange, the dates for us all, the train tickets, the car rental, the rooms, Auntie Do, my brother ... no way we could cancel for anything less than ebola.
And surprisingly, though he's sick, he's extremely active. He wants to climb everything he sees. He wants to touch everything, sit on everything, throw everything on the floor and eat everything, except what's on his plate at mealtime. The terrible two's have hit with a vengeance - asserting his will at every opportunity. NO! Don't want to! Don't like it! And the worst of all, tonight - NO I'M NOT SLEEPY.
Anna has the ultimate trump card - phoning Santa. Tonight at our restaurant dinner as he clambered all over the booth we were sitting in with Auntie Do, and then slid down the seat and under the table, his mother had a long conversation with Santa about how bad he was being and how Santa would have to throw away all his toys. So he tried to be good but could not. I took him for a walk around the room to see their boring Xmas decorations and he did some scribbling with the crayons they brought. Then that was it - one bored, sick, passionately interested and restless child trapped in a booth with three adults trying to eat in peace.
God, give me strength.
Finally - and I admire her for not doing it sooner - his mother put something on her cellphone and he was still.
It takes incredible strength and patience to do this job. I'd forgotten. But I do remember once running screaming out my kitchen door into the snow, to avoid murdering my children. We weren't quite that beside ourselves today - there are two of us to deal with him, and anyway, Ottawa is too cold, we'd freeze to death.
But the trip has been worth it for the visits with Do, who's remarkably patient with a squirmy boy who made frisbees out of her round coffee table coasters - and then they turned into pancakes that, adorably, he served her on a tray. This morning, with a long day too cold to play outside stretching ahead of us, we headed downtown to the art gallery but passed the War Museum and ended up there. Ideal - huge spaces for running, giant tanks and helicopters to look at. It is, I think from what I could see through the blur of boy, an even-handed evocation of war - respectful to those who've suffered, open about the horrors. Perhaps I'll go back sometime when I can actually take it in.
Or perhaps I won't.
We also spent an hour in a Chapters-Indigo which has wonderful toys out for kids to play with - didn't know that before. He played for half an hour with a big train set while his mother and I took turns looking at books. Very clever marketing, certainly, but a godsend for us.
Tomorrow, we're going to have breakfast at Ikea, another great place out of the cold with toys to play with. I know, our cultural trip to Ottawa - Chapters, Ikea and war. And glad of it. And then we're visiting my brother and his family in the Gatineau, where it's even colder. But pretty.
And then Tuesday we take the train home. I love this boy very much, as you may have noticed. But I will be very happy to kiss him goodbye and leave him to his very brave mother, who is not quite the paragon of patience I'd thought her. And neither, for sure, is Glamma. One very small boy pushed us both to the limit today. Amazing.
We are staying in an Airbnb rental, rented because it's cheap and very near Auntie Do's - one very small room for me and a room with one big bed for Anna and Eli; the owner is in the next room and other renters are downstairs. So with a very energetic 2 year old up at dawn, the name of the game is trying to keep him quiet. Not easy. I repeat - not not not easy.
Add to that the fact that Ottawa is beyond cold - minus thirteen today but it felt much colder, bitter - as Anna says, Why do people LIVE here? She didn't bring enough warm clothes, Torontonian that she is. Eli is really quite sick, with an appalling cough - we really shouldn't have come, but it all took so long to arrange, the dates for us all, the train tickets, the car rental, the rooms, Auntie Do, my brother ... no way we could cancel for anything less than ebola.
And surprisingly, though he's sick, he's extremely active. He wants to climb everything he sees. He wants to touch everything, sit on everything, throw everything on the floor and eat everything, except what's on his plate at mealtime. The terrible two's have hit with a vengeance - asserting his will at every opportunity. NO! Don't want to! Don't like it! And the worst of all, tonight - NO I'M NOT SLEEPY.
Anna has the ultimate trump card - phoning Santa. Tonight at our restaurant dinner as he clambered all over the booth we were sitting in with Auntie Do, and then slid down the seat and under the table, his mother had a long conversation with Santa about how bad he was being and how Santa would have to throw away all his toys. So he tried to be good but could not. I took him for a walk around the room to see their boring Xmas decorations and he did some scribbling with the crayons they brought. Then that was it - one bored, sick, passionately interested and restless child trapped in a booth with three adults trying to eat in peace.
God, give me strength.
Finally - and I admire her for not doing it sooner - his mother put something on her cellphone and he was still.
It takes incredible strength and patience to do this job. I'd forgotten. But I do remember once running screaming out my kitchen door into the snow, to avoid murdering my children. We weren't quite that beside ourselves today - there are two of us to deal with him, and anyway, Ottawa is too cold, we'd freeze to death.
But the trip has been worth it for the visits with Do, who's remarkably patient with a squirmy boy who made frisbees out of her round coffee table coasters - and then they turned into pancakes that, adorably, he served her on a tray. This morning, with a long day too cold to play outside stretching ahead of us, we headed downtown to the art gallery but passed the War Museum and ended up there. Ideal - huge spaces for running, giant tanks and helicopters to look at. It is, I think from what I could see through the blur of boy, an even-handed evocation of war - respectful to those who've suffered, open about the horrors. Perhaps I'll go back sometime when I can actually take it in.
Or perhaps I won't.
We also spent an hour in a Chapters-Indigo which has wonderful toys out for kids to play with - didn't know that before. He played for half an hour with a big train set while his mother and I took turns looking at books. Very clever marketing, certainly, but a godsend for us.
Tomorrow, we're going to have breakfast at Ikea, another great place out of the cold with toys to play with. I know, our cultural trip to Ottawa - Chapters, Ikea and war. And glad of it. And then we're visiting my brother and his family in the Gatineau, where it's even colder. But pretty.
And then Tuesday we take the train home. I love this boy very much, as you may have noticed. But I will be very happy to kiss him goodbye and leave him to his very brave mother, who is not quite the paragon of patience I'd thought her. And neither, for sure, is Glamma. One very small boy pushed us both to the limit today. Amazing.
December 6, 2014
off to Ottawa
Yesterday evening, cried twice listening to CBC radio - one, a report from Montreal on the 25th anniversary of the murder of 14 young women, whose names were slowly read out, one by one - unbearably sad, especially given the hatred against women being played out daily in accusations in the media.
And then an Ideas program on Martin Luther King - a beautiful portrayal of an extraordinary man, who knew he was going to be killed for his beliefs. All that, on my beloved CBC radio. Also reports on the one year anniversary of the death of Mandela and the usual dreadful news from around the world. Otherwise, HUNKY DORY.
Also, a documentary on Doc Pomus, a huge talent who wrote a thousand pop songs, many of them the Brill Building's greatest hits, including Up on the Roof, Teenager in Love, Sweets for my sweet, This magic moment, Little sister, Suspicion, Vive Las Vegas, and Save the last dance for me. Especially moving when you learn that he was, as he described himself, a "fat Jewish cripple," afflicted with polio in childhood, who wrote "the last dance" for his wife because at their wedding, he could not dance with her. And then he wrote "Can't get used to losing you," Andy Williams's greatest hit, after she left. An autobiography in song.
I'm off in a few minutes to Union Station. Today Anna, Eli and I are getting the train to Ottawa, to visit Auntie Do, who - as I report periodically - at 94 is still not only living in her condo and driving, but winning against her much younger friends at Scrabble. I have packed enough toys and food for a small army, because it's five hours in a train with a wriggler. Easier for Eli than driving, I hope - at least he can move. And move and move.
I hope we make it. I have a cold, not too bad but there. Anna has been feeling terrible this last while, and Eli puked yesterday morning. Today she says he sounds terrible but seems fine. So we're going to go, if necessary to greet Auntie Do and give her her Christmas goodies - all kinds of English treats, mince pies, Jaffa cakes, Eccles cakes and fruit jellies - through surgical masks. But we're going.
Carol will hold down the fort, if you happen to be passing by and urgently need to buy a book or four.
And then an Ideas program on Martin Luther King - a beautiful portrayal of an extraordinary man, who knew he was going to be killed for his beliefs. All that, on my beloved CBC radio. Also reports on the one year anniversary of the death of Mandela and the usual dreadful news from around the world. Otherwise, HUNKY DORY.
Also, a documentary on Doc Pomus, a huge talent who wrote a thousand pop songs, many of them the Brill Building's greatest hits, including Up on the Roof, Teenager in Love, Sweets for my sweet, This magic moment, Little sister, Suspicion, Vive Las Vegas, and Save the last dance for me. Especially moving when you learn that he was, as he described himself, a "fat Jewish cripple," afflicted with polio in childhood, who wrote "the last dance" for his wife because at their wedding, he could not dance with her. And then he wrote "Can't get used to losing you," Andy Williams's greatest hit, after she left. An autobiography in song.
I'm off in a few minutes to Union Station. Today Anna, Eli and I are getting the train to Ottawa, to visit Auntie Do, who - as I report periodically - at 94 is still not only living in her condo and driving, but winning against her much younger friends at Scrabble. I have packed enough toys and food for a small army, because it's five hours in a train with a wriggler. Easier for Eli than driving, I hope - at least he can move. And move and move.
I hope we make it. I have a cold, not too bad but there. Anna has been feeling terrible this last while, and Eli puked yesterday morning. Today she says he sounds terrible but seems fine. So we're going to go, if necessary to greet Auntie Do and give her her Christmas goodies - all kinds of English treats, mince pies, Jaffa cakes, Eccles cakes and fruit jellies - through surgical masks. But we're going.
Carol will hold down the fort, if you happen to be passing by and urgently need to buy a book or four.
December 5, 2014
British Beatles Fan Club Magazine - woo hoo!
Thrilling - Piers Hemmingsen, Canadian Beatles' expert who has a new book coming out soon himself, sent a review of the memoir to the British Beatles Fan Club Magazine - a huge resource for Beatle people - and it just came out.
http://www.britishbeatlesfanclub.co.uk/p/magazine.html
Thank you, Piers. Perhaps this will bump up my readership from 74 to - dare I dream? - 82.
http://www.britishbeatlesfanclub.co.uk/p/magazine.html
Thank you, Piers. Perhaps this will bump up my readership from 74 to - dare I dream? - 82.
December 4, 2014
Beth on the 49th Shelf
The amazing Kerry Clare, who writes stories and edits books, raises two small book-loving daughters and keeps the influential Canadian book website 49th Shelf going as well, asked me for a list of recommended Canadian coming-of-age memoirs - including my own. So I compiled this list and she has put it up on the site. Thank you for all you do for literature and the world, Kerry. Her tweet about my list was instantly retweeted by the Creative Non-Fiction Collective of which I'm a proud member. And so, ideas, thoughts and lists are passed quickly around.
http://49thshelf.com/Blog/2014/12/04/Beth-Kaplan-On-Coming-of-Age-Memoirs
It's nice to see that little effort in print, because I've just received word from my publisher about my two fabulous spectacularly popular best-selling books. His report on the on-line sales in the year to date: All My Loving has sold 74 copies, True to Life 38.
That's not including, of course, the vast number of sales at the book launch and from home. With my best marketing efforts - including recently hiring a publicist for a month, at a cost of $800 - 74 and 38.
Well, it could make me sad but it won't. I am now working on a children's nonsense rhyme picture book that will unquestionably make me rich and famous. I'll tell you about it later. After I dab away my tears.
Joking.
Kind of.
http://49thshelf.com/Blog/2014/12/04/Beth-Kaplan-On-Coming-of-Age-Memoirs
It's nice to see that little effort in print, because I've just received word from my publisher about my two fabulous spectacularly popular best-selling books. His report on the on-line sales in the year to date: All My Loving has sold 74 copies, True to Life 38.
That's not including, of course, the vast number of sales at the book launch and from home. With my best marketing efforts - including recently hiring a publicist for a month, at a cost of $800 - 74 and 38.
Well, it could make me sad but it won't. I am now working on a children's nonsense rhyme picture book that will unquestionably make me rich and famous. I'll tell you about it later. After I dab away my tears.
Joking.
Kind of.
December 2, 2014
Fox "News"
This station should never appear with the apostrophe. Fox "News."
Stephen Hawking and Alex Colville - lucky husbands
A marvellous girl child exhorts us all about the importance of the Little Free Library and books. She made me cry.
http://qz.com/304932/this-8-year-olds-passionate-speech-about-books-is-the-best-thing-on-the-internet-today/
Catch-up time: days have gone by, whole days! Where do they go? A brief overview:
- "The Theory of Everything" - a stunning bio-pic about Stephen Hawking and his wife Jane. Of course, I rushed home to check Google about how much was true and how much was invented for the film. Beware the second wife - if only Paul McCartney had known the truth about Stephen's #2 who apparently abused and assaulted him, which isn't shown in the film. But overall, it's gorgeous - fantastic acting, script, beautifully moving. The man was given 2 years to live and more than 50 years later is still going strong. If that isn't heartening, I don't know what is. Highly recommended.
- The Alex Colville exhibit at AGO - wonderful. I knew too little about this first-rate Canadian artist, such as that his pictures appear four times in the background of Kubrick's "The Shining," and have inspired other filmmakers, including the Coen Brothers and Wes Anderson. What's most moving is that - just like the Hawking film - this exhibit about a brilliant man becomes the story of a sustaining marriage. Alex and Rhoda were married more than 70 years; she raised four children and was his muse, often nude, which she did not enjoy. (Of one painting of her stark naked looking in the fridge, she says, "I would never go into the kitchen with no clothes on.")
But the incredible story I didn't know is that when she was nine, in the Twenties, her father, siblings and other relatives were in a car which was struck by a train, and all were killed. And Colville himself was a war artist who was there when Bergen-Belsen was liberated, and saw sights that haunted him forever. Suddenly, Colville's horse running straight at a train - his sense of drama, foreboding, evil and danger - guns, hidden faces, murky darkness - all make sense.
Colville is quoted as saying, "The difference between a person who's an artist and one who's not is that the artist is always gnawing away at this stuff." Love that, as someone who has spent a lifetime gnawing away. Highly recommended.
- "Page Eight", the first part of the fantastic BBC series written by David Hare starring Bill Nighy - as always, riveting television. At one point, Nighy's character is asked about his faith. "Faith?" he replies. "I have faith the sun will rise in the morning and I'll have a drink at six. That's my faith."
To which I said, Mine too! Only my drink is at five. Great writing. My friend Debra told me the brilliant play "Starlight," by Hare, starring Nighy and Carey Mulligan, is going to open on Broadway in April. Worth a trip to NYC.
And - a PBS special on Peter, Paul and Mary. Many tears. In the early morning rain, Oh Stewball was a racehorse, How many seas must the white dove sail ... My nylon string guitar and I knew them all. Such idealism and heart. A history of their times, too - 58,000 soldiers killed in Vietnam. The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind. The wind is still blowin', Bob, and I ain't heard no answers yet.
It's cold.
http://qz.com/304932/this-8-year-olds-passionate-speech-about-books-is-the-best-thing-on-the-internet-today/
Catch-up time: days have gone by, whole days! Where do they go? A brief overview:
- "The Theory of Everything" - a stunning bio-pic about Stephen Hawking and his wife Jane. Of course, I rushed home to check Google about how much was true and how much was invented for the film. Beware the second wife - if only Paul McCartney had known the truth about Stephen's #2 who apparently abused and assaulted him, which isn't shown in the film. But overall, it's gorgeous - fantastic acting, script, beautifully moving. The man was given 2 years to live and more than 50 years later is still going strong. If that isn't heartening, I don't know what is. Highly recommended.
- The Alex Colville exhibit at AGO - wonderful. I knew too little about this first-rate Canadian artist, such as that his pictures appear four times in the background of Kubrick's "The Shining," and have inspired other filmmakers, including the Coen Brothers and Wes Anderson. What's most moving is that - just like the Hawking film - this exhibit about a brilliant man becomes the story of a sustaining marriage. Alex and Rhoda were married more than 70 years; she raised four children and was his muse, often nude, which she did not enjoy. (Of one painting of her stark naked looking in the fridge, she says, "I would never go into the kitchen with no clothes on.")
But the incredible story I didn't know is that when she was nine, in the Twenties, her father, siblings and other relatives were in a car which was struck by a train, and all were killed. And Colville himself was a war artist who was there when Bergen-Belsen was liberated, and saw sights that haunted him forever. Suddenly, Colville's horse running straight at a train - his sense of drama, foreboding, evil and danger - guns, hidden faces, murky darkness - all make sense.
Colville is quoted as saying, "The difference between a person who's an artist and one who's not is that the artist is always gnawing away at this stuff." Love that, as someone who has spent a lifetime gnawing away. Highly recommended.
- "Page Eight", the first part of the fantastic BBC series written by David Hare starring Bill Nighy - as always, riveting television. At one point, Nighy's character is asked about his faith. "Faith?" he replies. "I have faith the sun will rise in the morning and I'll have a drink at six. That's my faith."
To which I said, Mine too! Only my drink is at five. Great writing. My friend Debra told me the brilliant play "Starlight," by Hare, starring Nighy and Carey Mulligan, is going to open on Broadway in April. Worth a trip to NYC.
And - a PBS special on Peter, Paul and Mary. Many tears. In the early morning rain, Oh Stewball was a racehorse, How many seas must the white dove sail ... My nylon string guitar and I knew them all. Such idealism and heart. A history of their times, too - 58,000 soldiers killed in Vietnam. The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind. The wind is still blowin', Bob, and I ain't heard no answers yet.
It's cold.
November 29, 2014
Lefty forever
An interesting quiz in the Star - where on the political spectrum do you fall? It's designed for Torontonians but most of it will apply everywhere.
No surprise - I'm on the Social Democratic Left. The best!!!
http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/2014/11/29/torontos_eight_political_ideology_types.html
No surprise - I'm on the Social Democratic Left. The best!!!
http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/2014/11/29/torontos_eight_political_ideology_types.html
cheese and magazines
Dear friend John took me to St. Lawrence Market this morning - oh the luxury of a car and another pair of arms to help carry. What a fantastic place it is - absolutely packed with deliciousness. Including ... be still my beating heart ... a cheese shop that rivals a French one.
I'd mentioned to John that I need a bench under a window in my living-room, and he took me back to the fantastic modern house he shares with his wife and daughter, for breakfast and then to show me a piece he'd been given by his neighbour, a fishing store owner. He thought it might go sideways under the window - but it's a magazine display rack that turns. Heaven. We brought it home.
Okay, it's a bit ridiculous to have a magazine display rack in the living room, except if you're a magazine nut comme moi. Now all my New Yorkers and literary mags are neatly arranged, and the bottom shelves are all for Eli's picture books. I can put on a record, twirl the rack, choose and read. Neat, eh?
I'd mentioned to John that I need a bench under a window in my living-room, and he took me back to the fantastic modern house he shares with his wife and daughter, for breakfast and then to show me a piece he'd been given by his neighbour, a fishing store owner. He thought it might go sideways under the window - but it's a magazine display rack that turns. Heaven. We brought it home.
Okay, it's a bit ridiculous to have a magazine display rack in the living room, except if you're a magazine nut comme moi. Now all my New Yorkers and literary mags are neatly arranged, and the bottom shelves are all for Eli's picture books. I can put on a record, twirl the rack, choose and read. Neat, eh?
