Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 66

Radioactive Republicans

Anna wrote today on FB, "The first week of 2021 over. Only 51,000 more to go." 

My daughter-by-another-mother Holly was going to come for a visit today with Eli, for lunch and to go to a playground. But the numbers in Ontario are horrifying; she has just cancelled. I know it's wise, and yet I'm bereft. Those boys are growing up on the other side of town, and I'll hardly see them. I miss them so much. 

Ah well, better safe etc. The hospitals are jammed; anyone getting sick now is in grave trouble, so for me, that's a serious consideration. The kids and I will Zoom at some point. And Sam is coming tomorrow for dinner, I think, so I'll have a family fix. 

Yesterday the sun was shining; what a difference that made. Went for a walkabout with Ruth and sat at my south-facing desk drinking it in. Later, I watched Alex Trebek's last Jeopardy and Radioactive, a drama about Madame Curie, flawed and overwrought but still, a tribute to her courage with a stellar performance by Rosamund Pike. I didn't know that after Pierre Curie's tragic death Marie took their married lab assistant as a lover, and a vicious mob, inflamed by scurrilous accounts in right-wing newspapers, surrounded her home, screaming abuse, including anti-Semitic slurs though she was not Jewish. Does this sound familiar? 

The same types are still out there, screaming untruths, lots of them in Canada too. Have spent these past days listening to the radio, obsessively checking social media and the papers online. Look at the decent, serious face of that policeman who was murdered. And yet more than half of the House Repubs voted not to certify Biden's win. Something is rotten in their political culture, right to the roots. 

So now, for us in Ontario, 51,000 weeks of isolation and winter, with an incompetent provincial government that can't do a single thing right. 

On the other hand, there are still kind words coming in about the article and the book. From a musician friend who knew my father: I loved the piece in last week's Globe & Mail about the polio vaccine. It brought back a vivid image of the way your Dad held the bow. It also inspired me to order Loose Woman and the McCartney book from our local Book City, and I am sure they will be great reads. 

And another: What a poignant, timely and well written piece it was. I’m not surprised that Jane Philpott picked it up – it is such a sensible, yet moving, example of the power of vaccines.  

And I have bought and read LOOSE WOMAN and bravo again. It was so well written, honest, invoking cringeworthy memories for me and I found, especially, the parts of your time with the L’Arche community evocative and moving. 

Thank you! 

And there's this: 

Be still my beating heart.

I've signed up for a virtual dance class from the Toronto Dance Theatre. I'll dance as if no one's watching, because luckily, no one will be. Onward!

as the dust settles

Just to clarify - yesterday's post was written at 4 p.m., as the mob was just getting started. The rest of the day - where to begin? Where were the police, so powerfully present for Black Lives Matter, smashing heads and arresting? Why was that pathetic little group of cops there, did the authorities not listen to Trump, not follow what was being planned for months, if not years? 

Some good will come of this. The man is toast, first of all - if even some of his weasly, spineless group of supporters have turned on him, if even Mark Zuckerberg has had enough, he's done. We all feared what he'd be capable of in these coming two weeks - starting a war, dropping bombs, God knows - but he won't be able to now. May his enablers be haunted till the end of their days. May Josh Hawley be confronted by that photo of himself with his fist raised, saluting the mob, everywhere he goes, forever.

The optical metaphor was extraordinary. Just as American democracy has been threatened, these last years, by a lawless band of greedy opportunists, so yesterday was the Capitol building itself. Maybe other countries will now take seriously the threat of domestic terrorism, violent white supremacists like the Proud Boys - which, as my daughter just pointed out, was founded by a Canadian. No country is immune.

This is what I wrote on Facebook:

Never did I think I'd spend the evening watching the U.S. Senate! One senator, speaking of the lawless mob, invoked the fall of the Roman Empire. I thought of Caligula, a vilely cruel and insane Roman ruler in power for nearly 4 years until he was assassinated. But the American Caligula and his enablers are still in office. Of course they and Fox News are to blame for today — but also an education system that has not taught people to look at FACTS, to think. Horrifying.

Some of the Dem senators spoke eloquently, and it was heartening to watch Nancy Pelosi stay calm last night under immense pressure and force the vote. Though listening to the backtracking of the monstrous cretins on the other side made my stomach churn. 

It's hard to work, it's hard to do anything today but read the paper and check social media - what's happening? What's the response been? What's next?!

watching CNN in disbelief

Holy @#$@#! Are we surprised? I just watched CNN for a bit; one reporter said he spoke to a close confidant of Trump's who confided that the current president is unhinged. Insane, batshit crazy. Of course he has been for years, but now it's evident to everyone except his merry band of violent fellow lunatics. The kings and queens of white grievance.

When you think of the howls about the violence around Black Lives Matter! But now it's stupid, vengeful, heavily armed white people. "Domestic terrorists," they said on CNN, at last. Appalling. A lunatic for two more weeks in the most powerful position on earth. Terrifying. 

I think of my former high school friend the Trump supporter, wonder how he's justifying this. Last time he wrote to me, instead of defending Trump, he continued to attack Hunter Biden. I've written him off forever. No time for that kind of delusional idiocy. 

Ye gods. My poor ex who lives down there - come home, Edgar! Get out of there while you can! My poor cousins in Looneyland. Though let's not forget that a miracle happened today and the Senate is now blue. Hooray for Stacey Abrams! Someone wrote on FB that she might be the most important woman ever in the history of the U.S. Quite possibly. 

Up here in Relative Tranquil-land - life goes on. A student wrote proudly today that an essay of hers is going to be anthologized in a book coming out soon. She was one of the most interesting students ever; as the result of a serious illness, she was suffering from profound amnesia. That was a first - trying to help a person with amnesia write memoir. She was a good writer and obviously continued to get better, because now she's in a book! Good news. Let's hang onto whatever we can today. 

watching Jeopardy, trying to ignore Georgia

Just turned on CNN but I can't watch; the race in Georgia is so close. How is that possible? I have to remember - Georgia is a Confederate state, so with built-in racism. But still! To think, I used to be appalled that people would vote for George Bush! 

Reading what's going on in the world right now is devastating, sick-making. What the outgoing administration is doing to hamstring Biden before he even begins. When will the vile circus to the south be over? Truly, forces of evil newly unleashed, and a pandemic growing worse. The world feels like a dumpster fire. 

I've spent three days trying to write a positive piece about the good things that happened last year, the joys of Zoom, banging pots with neighbours, the pleasure for a writer of being forced to stay home. But it's wrong. It's wrong to write something positive about last year when there was so much suffering not shared by me. Time to throw this one away and start another. Could be worse - only three days wasted. 

Barely moved today. Nothing more to say. Oh yes, tonight I watched "Jeopardy" for the first and perhaps the last time; it's the last week with Alex Trebek, that fine Canadian. He shot this week's shows only ten days before he died and was apparently in pain. It hurts to watch him, unfailingly courteous, walking slowly, with makeup. 

What a world. 

tweeting up a storm

Amazing. So this is how the social media steam train really works: thanks to a friend, I learned that the Globe health writer, André Picard, had retweeted my article, and that Dr. Jane Philpott, former cabinet minister, retweeted it again. I looked them up. By then, Picard's tweet had 27 retweets and 77 likes, Philpott's had 39 and 106. 

These are people who have thousands of Twitter followers. I have 149. A day after I tweeted my article, 11 had liked it and 3 retweeted. It's good to have friends in high places! I thank them both. So many have commented on its timely message, I've written to the Globe to ask if the article could be reprinted in other papers, but have not heard back. 

Oh, and another amazing thing: my psychiatrist called today to say how much she liked it. In all our years together - we began serious work in 1990 but for a very long time we've talked only once or twice a year - she has never contacted me. Strict boundaries. That was a deeply meaningful call. How this article has resonated! You never know.  

In the meantime, reality: I've spent two days working on a new article about this past year with Covid, and it doesn't work. A complete dead end so far. A good reminder that writing never gets easier, it just gets harder in a different way. In the meantime, the audiobook of the memoir, which took a week to record, has sold four copies, and because Audible lets people without a membership get one book free, the amount of royalties I've made is exactly zero. Cheers! 

It's winter. It's cold and grey, and we face at least three more months of cold and grey. Being alone in this silent house may, at some point, feel hard. So far, though, I'm busy and happy, counting tweets.

In the meantime, Anna wrote that Ben joined his JK class online this morning. The teacher, in this classroom with many immigrant children, was talking about families who live far away and asked the class if they have relatives who live far away. Ben put up his hand and she called on him. "My grandma lives on Sackville Street," he said. "That's far away, but I see her lots." 

Many heart emojis.

And Eli's tutor Greg sent this picture of his student with the Saturday Globe, his grandmother's name at the top. They talked about vaccine hesitancy, and Eli said, "If they don't want the vaccine, they should just read the article, how simple is that!" Greg is trying to get Eli to write longer answers, so they counted the words in the essay. Another lesson of writing: you never know what use your readers will make of your work. 

kind words aplenty

Renewed faith in humanity today: people read newspapers, and they're kind! The reaction to my article, just in one day, has been heartening. At 8 a.m. a group email came in from a Y friend, who sent word to our whole group that they should read the piece. So they did, and they wrote. I heard from Halifax, France, England, Vancouver, the U.S.; from two former university presidents who'd known Dad, one of them writing, "What I remember especially was his advice and kindness to me, twenty-five years younger and a beginner in his world. A nice guy in every respect. A mensch."

They wrote that he would be proud of me. What that means! 

Especially appreciated this note from Anna's neighbour, a retired schoolteacher who's been tutoring Eli every day for an hour and a half since the spring, for free. He told me my essay made him cry, and then, Your wonderful Eli has been a gift to me. He gives me a laugh every day. He’s smart, earnest and kind. All attributes that will serve him well in life. When I challenge him on something he will often say...”true enough.” He is giving me the “grandfather” experience I never thought I would have... and that is a great joy to me. Thank you Covid for that gift.

Many gifts, and I'm grateful for each one. But "smart, earnest and kind" - that means most. 

And another gift — Mary sent word about the memoir: Loose Woman  is marvellous! A beautiful story with its honesty and self reflection. I am sad to have finished it. You, my friend, are in a roll. Stay nimble!

Good advice, dear Mary, though I'm not sure how to do that. But thank you. 

Xmas is over; everything is taken down. In the old days, I'd remove the Xmas lights and shove them with relief into a box; the following year, my husband would have to disentangle a mess of lights, and we'd argue about my carelessness, which drove him insane. I took this photograph of yesterday's work, the lights neatly rolled and tied with ribbon, and sent it to him, saying, "I think I've grown up."

It's about time. 

vaccine article in today's Globe

What a joyful start to the new year: my article in the Globe about my father's polio, the Salk vaccine, and the issue of vaccine hesitancy, with a plea to anti-vaxxers. Hope it makes a difference. I'm happy it appeared on a Saturday with other vaccine articles. Just sorry they did not print the photograph to go with it. So I'll share it here.

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/article-my-father-was-thrilled-when-the-polio-vaccine-was-discovered-hed-be/

People have been sending messages since early morning, via email and text and on FB and Twitter. Thanks to you all! As Chris said, There is nothing like scientific experience to gainsay the opinions of those who think they know better through rumour and prejudice. 

I think everyone knows someone who is embracing ignorance and darkness these days. It's a wonderful thing to light candles.
Yes to candles. And as Jason texted, "Great work. Now do more." Yes sir!

Watched a wonderful documentary on NYEve: My Octopus Teacher. How to fall in love with an octopus - turns out it's easy, we viewers do too. Loved it. Highly recommended.

Today, my first piano lesson since March. There will be pain. 

May 2021 bring you health and fulfillment and many steps forward. Much love.

2020, a reflection

New Year's Eve. To celebrate, I just opened a fine bottle of Spanish cab sauv and took some of my sauce out of the freezer, for a favourite feast of spaghetti and wine - carbs forever! Maybe I'll watch Soul or one of the many other films I haven't seen yet - Bridgerton, Crip Camp, My Octopus Teacher. And I'll read some of the three books I have on the go - "Braiding Sweetgrass," "150 Glimpses of the Beatles," and a library book, procured yesterday, "Writing after dark: envy, fear, distraction, and other dilemmas in the writer's life."

Gosh. Wonder why she's reading THAT?

Good news: my vaccine essay will be in the Globe on Saturday, and the pay is handsome. It means so much! A big yes to my writing and thought after a long series of no's. Though not from readers, who continue to say nice things about "Loose Woman." Like Lori on Goodreads, who gave it five stars:

A fantastic journey of self discovery that all can relate to. Well written, funny, sad, heart warming. I couldn’t put it down!

And Barbara, an actress:
I ordered the audiobook (my first!) thinking it would be nice to hearyour voice reading your own words, and I was right! I enjoyed it so much, for many reasons.There was a lovely flow to the narrative - Big congratulations!

Thank you both!

What a year, overshadowed by two shitshow disasters, Covid and Trump. American politics in general, the endless lead up to the election, the endless rollout of the results, ye gods, this speedy nation is so @$#@ slow at some things! The omnipresent Zoom making so much possible in isolation - the National Theatre Live, Hamilton, board meetings, classes, webinars, exercise classes, friendship - Zoom kept us going. Neighbourhood - all spring, banging pots at 7 for frontline workers. A certain blogger turning 70, yes 70, no, simply not possible, yet it's true. The birth, at last, of "Loose Woman" in its various forms. 

Anna feeding Indigenous elders, heroically keeping two hyperactive boys busy at home almost all year; Sam, the Second Best Bartender in all Toronto. The fact that so far, despite isolation, risk, and paranoia, my loved ones and I are not only alive but relatively sane. And obviously you are too. Congratulations!!

I feel guilty saying it, because countless people have suffered so grievously this year, loss of loved ones, work, security. But for me, I confess, it was not that hard. I missed a lot - travel with Bruce, gathering with family and friends, the Y, movies, plays, shopping. But I'm a single woman and a writer; solitude is in my DNA. The loss of all those things made me focus, hunker down with fewer possibilities for distraction, though of course there's always the long dark rabbit hole of social media, which I fall down on a regular basis. But no question, it's going to be a long winter. I'm sick of it already, and it's barely begun.

I've continued the excavation of the mountains of paper left by my mother and my own lifetime of scribbles; yesterday, I unearthed the bill for my birth from the Polyclinic on West 50th in NYC - $135-$80=$55, a steal! Of course, that's US. 

And more treasures, including this, a portrait  of me by one of my children, who did not like to be awakened in the morning and accused me of torture by cheerfulness. 

 Guilty as charged. 

I hope wherever you are, whatever you're doing, there is joy, and peace, and comfort, and perhaps even a cheerful face smiling at you, with, however, better teeth. My love to you. Happy New Year!

remembering Jeffrey Dallas in the silence

Still exploring my new CD player, have started to organize the CDs, just went from Pergolesi's Stabat Mater, a huge favourite, to the Neville Brothers, to Beethoven cello sonatas. I thought at one point, all these Neville Brothers songs sound the same, and then I realized I had inadvertently pressed Repeat. I WAS listening to the same song. 

Yesterday, I did not talk to a single soul. Texts and emails, music and work, Jane's class and tons of leftovers; I did not feel lonely. But it was a quiet day. Today Gina's back and there was line dancing. I am figuring out what to write next. Have not been outside once, but have spent more time in my office in the last few days than for months before. Exploring old files, seeing again how very much I wrote and did nothing with, never sent out essays about divorce and single parenting, poems about AIDS, dated now. If only I'd had more confidence. Regret.

The day before yesterday, I read a snarky, condescending review of Macca's latest album in the New Yorker; furious, I found the critic's Twitter page and discovered a link, posted by another angry reader, to a terrific article about how Macca is still underestimated, why he is, why he should not be. A kindred spirit! I found the writer Ian Leslie's email address and wrote him a letter of appreciation and a few hours later, he wrote back. The miracles of modern technology.

https://ianleslie.substack.com/p/64-reasons-to-celebrate-paul-mccartney?utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email&utm_source=email 

Newly inspired, I spent yesterday morning writing a letter to editor of the New Yorker complaining about the review. It's fun to send something to the New Yorker, even if there's no chance in hell of it seeing the light of day. In a few weeks, I'll share it with you. 

Those sonatas were just too much Beethoven for me. Now listening to a lovely Canadian group of women: "Quartette." 

New Year's wishes and kind words from a former student, an engineer originally from Iran and a fine, sensitive writer. 

Thanks for all your guidance and support over the last couple of years. I will always have a special appreciation for you, who gave me the courage, direction and the support I needed to step into an unknown and somewhat scary world of writing. You are a very good teacher, an understanding and open minded person, and above all a kind and caring human being.

My thanks to him. Good to read. Teaching starts in two weeks - three different Zoom classes, all different. A new challenge. 

And that's it for today: music, leftovers - Christmas dinner for lunch, turkey soup for supper - melting snow, a neat stack of CDs behind me. A bluegrass banjo. 

Here's the poem about my friend Jeffrey Dallas, who died of AIDS. What a nightmare time that was - the last truly murderous plague, before this one.

Boxing Day recap: lovely but moving right along

It's a grey Boxing Day and I'm in my office, listening to one of my favourite pieces of music, Borodin's exquisite string quartet No. 2 in D. I'm able to listen here because yesterday my son gave me a portable CD player for my office. He also gave me a small portable Bluetooth speaker that's now remotely connected to my computer, so I can carry music with me wherever I go. AND he gave me Macca's new album, now top of the charts everywhere, which is available on Spotify but nice to have in physical form. 

One of my great regrets, for years, is that I haven't listened to enough music except what's on CBC. Somehow the CDs were always in one room and the player was in another, or I was; the only CD player is also a radio in the kitchen, where CBC is almost always on. And I'm new to Spotify, it just doesn't occur to me to log in and have a selection of anything I want and to cart my computer about the house. But now I will be able go through my many CDs as I work here and then cart a little speaker around the house. 

One thing I learned from my brilliant uncle Edgar in New York is that music is company. Especially after he was widowed, his great, beloved, constant companion was Johann Sebastian Bach. And that may be the case for me also; right now, in my house, it's just me and Borodin. My tastes are more eclectic than my uncle's and include the Everly Brothers who I just listened to while trying to move my body. 

Which is a necessity because of the feast of yesterday and the giant pile of leftovers I just had for lunch. Massive. The brussels, a new recipe with pistachios, were hard and bitter, and the turkey was a bit overcooked, but the gravy was delicious so no one cared. Leftovers went home with the gang and I'll be eating them for days.

It was the best Xmas yet for our merry crew. Perhaps because of lowered expectations, perhaps because we were so aware of how lucky we were to be together, to be well and housed and fed, and also because I the hostess was relaxed, I'd had time to get everything ready, so there was no last minute rush. It snowed overnight so the garden was stunning, with the icy hush of a thick new snowfall. 

A quiet morning listening to the Messiah as I prepared. The gang arrived in the early afternoon, we opened presents, we ate a huge meal...

they had a snowball fight, 

and we lay around in a stupor except of course the boys who rocketed through the house with the walkie-talkies I'd given them, chased by Uncle Sam; we had a long FaceTime talk with my ex their dad in the States and his family, and then they packed a vast amount of stuff into Anna's rented car and went home. I finished the cleanup, though the wonderful Holly had done all the dishes, and watched Call the Midwife's Xmas special, which was sublime as always and made me - as always - cry. One big plot point, beautifully handled, was the grief of miscarriages - how women were encouraged just to move on briskly and never think about that vanished human life again, but that women do. I am grateful to have had a miscarriage in November 1983, because otherwise my Sam, conceived in January 1984, would not be. But those losses do haunt us.

Weeping happily on the sofa - the perfect end to the day. 

Anna gave me framed family portraits that will go up on the wall. Friends had delivered home baked goodies and cards. My cousin and other friends emailed, my brother texted. 

Now I am back in the kitchen late afternoon as it grows dark, drinking the rest of the nice bottle of Amarone from last night, a gift from my tenant Robin, and being kept company by the Bach violin partitas played by Itzhak on the little speaker at my ear. I will read "Braiding Sweetgrass," which I bought to give to Anna and will do so just as soon as I've finished reading it myself. It's a superb and important book, bringing Indigenous wisdom and scientific knowledge together in an evaluation of how we live in the world. 

Onward to the next pile-up of merriment, NYEve, and then into the new year with its new president, thank Christ, and its vaccine, ditto. They both can't come soon enough.