Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 67

Merry Everything

A quiet Xmas Eve, talking to no one - Monique is busy, Sam is resting, Anna is no doubt going mad preparing for her own Xmas after helping to prepare for 80 others. She and Holly came back yesterday morning to do the packing - we filled 80 containers with the cabbage casserole, she sliced two enormous hams, and somehow, along with 80 gift bags and two pans of mashed potatoes, we got it all into her small rental car. 

You know what I'm going to say: blessings. 

Got the last groceries and our 14-pound turkey from Mark the butcher. Annie came over with my Xmas present: an apron on which is written

As Sam said, "She gets you!" Yes, though there's more - I also run on coffee, peanut butter, bread, and cheese. The essentials. 

Today, still mild but grey and rainy, turning to snow overnight, they say. Did my one final errand, riding to Ben McNally Books for the gifts he brought in for me - the new David Sedaris anthology for Sam, two for Anna: "Braiding Sweetgrass" and the children's book "This is your time" by Ruby Bridges, and for the boys, "The Ickabog," by J.K. Rowling, which just came in this morning. What pleasure not just to give these delicious books, but to buy them from dear Ben, who is such a friend to writers and has managed to keep his bookstore alive. 

Made the stuffing and finished wrapping, and now, 3 p.m., a long quiet day. No Xmas pageant at the Farm tonight. When I think back, I cannot imagine how I did it for years - the whole Xmas thing here, buying and decorating the tree, buying and wrapping the presents, filling the stockings, buying and preparing the feast - and producing the pageant on Xmas Eve as well. Well, I was younger then. 

Had the edits from the Globe, including one scientific fact that was completely wrong - thank the lord for editors! Three audiobooks sold - it's a (very small) start, I worry about that, the fate of my book. More kind words from readers: from Lori, "Your book touched my heart and soul. I loved it. My book club is discussing 'Gilead' and I thought your book with 'Gilead' made a perfect combo for reflecting on one's life." 

Wow - to be linked in any way with Marilynne Robinson is a huge honour. And from Jessica, "I devoured it, honest and courageous, and of course, funny." Thanks to you both.

On my way back from Ben's I rode up Sherbourne, where there are several shelters, homeless encampments, and safe injection sites. And then passed the centre in Regent's Park which distributes food - a long silent lineup. It was a confrontation with human misery at a time of celebration. My friends, this year has been brutal for so many. Some of us have evaded the danger so far; many of us have not. And many of us are so very wounded, pandemic or not. Let us be aware of everything we have to be grateful for - so very much - and think of the needs of our neighbours. 

For the rest of today, I will read as much of "Braiding Sweetgrass" as I can before wrapping it - perhaps watch something later. Solitude is also a gift, particularly as tomorrow there will be noise and paper and much food. Much wine and chocolate. 

Merry Everything to you all.

joy to this little world

These don't come all that often - but this was too good a day not to celebrate with you. 

Anna and Holly came over this morning. In January they'll use a professional kitchen, but everything is booked over Xmas, so they were going to cook for 75 chez Anna, in her cramped kitchen. Come here, I said, my kitchen is bigger. So they did. We spent from 9.30 to 6 peeling, chopping, cooking, cleaning, stirring. Holly peeled, boiled, and mashed 50 pounds of donated potatoes. Anna and I, mostly Anna, chopped I'm sure as many pounds of donated cabbage that was fried, mixed with cooked meat and rice and tomatoes and baked. We had to mix it in a big storage tub, which still wasn't big enough. Most went into Anna's rented car, but there are 3 heavy pans cooling right now which will go into a covered bin and onto the deck for the night, with heavy things on top to discourage raccoons. They'll be back tmw for them and for the pan of maple syrup fudge also cooling on the counter.

Anna went home to cook 3 marinated hams. Tomorrow, she and Holly will deliver and distribute the hot meal with an Xmas gift bag. 

In the middle of the chaos, I heard from the editor at the Globe with edits on my piece. So I was rewriting and sending back to him while giant piles of cabbage and potatoes flowed through my kitchen. It was, in a word, heaven.

If you're interested in what they're doing, here it is:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/dashmaawaan-bemaadzinjin-they-feed-the-people?viewupdates=1&rcid=r01-160867776228-b755749335b646ce&utm_medium=email&utm_source=customer&utm_campaign=p_email%2B1137-update-supporters-v5b

Last night, solstice drinks on Zoom with two of my oldest friends from university days, a visit with Monique, and then "His Dark Materials" which is thrillingly good. It was mild today, bicycle weather. Peter Jackson has released a short montage from the "Let it be" film that'll come out next summer, the Beatles taping the final album. We've all heard how unhappy and bitter they were at the end. But the fun and sheer joy that pours out from this clip - glorious. Something to look forward to in August 2021.

Macca's new album is out, have only heard snippets so far, including last night at Monique's with our friend Cathy, all of us dancing around the living room. But he has released a gorgeous little film to go with one of them. Merry pre-Christmas to you all. May there be such pleasure in a day for you too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?fbclid=IwAR3TpuI4B5QX7CmF0J-JeM83d-wLlWzAhIm_WvuV_smOlziiLLOn6rzC00U&v=GmF1H_vUhbc&feature=youtu.be

Getting to yes.

Much to be grateful for today. Friends are sending e-cards or their Xmas newsletters - new grandchildren, beautiful photographs. The lights of Xmas on nearly every house have made our street festive and bright. I'm slightly less bah humbug than usual at this time. 

For me, another bit of good news: on Friday morning I sent a 1200-word essay to the Globe's op-ed editor, and later that day, he replied, "We'll take it." 

"We'll take it." That's a yes. After a long trail of many no's, I needed that. This is the start of getting back into essays rather than books, for now. With essays, it doesn't hurt as much when they're turned down, and when they're accepted, they appear quickly. 

And a big yes for my daughter. As I've written here, Anna has been volunteering with a group making meals for Indigenous elders and unhoused. They've just received a grant from the city, so this will now be her job. It combines two of her favourite things: feeding people, and making a difference where it matters. She just sent a list of what they're cooking next week, a massive feast for 75 people - it's mind-boggling. 

Sam is busy - his bar is open just for people to buy bottles, but they come faithfully; he's there to greet his regulars even if they can't sit down and wait for him to make them laugh, and their favourite drink. 

More kind words about the memoir: this from a woman I don't know: I so enjoyed your memoir, Loose Woman. You have led quite a life. I particularly loved hearing about the time you spent at L'Arche. Your growing understanding of those you cared for and the empathy you showed was powerful. Your memoir showed the path you followed to become a strong, confident woman. I imagine your students now benefit from the wisdom you have gained on your life's journey.

I hope so!
And from a former student, a middle-aged man: I finished reading your memoir today which I found gripping for two reasons. First, because I know people associated with L’Arche, and have always admired their commitment to the handicapped. When as a kid I passed 278 Bloor St. East in Toronto, the sign said “Home for Incurable Children.” Second, because having taken your writing course a few years ago, it was fascinating to read about your relationships and intimate thoughts. Thank you for your transparency. 
My pleasure. It's the job.Home for Incurable Children. The charity that used to be called Crippled Civilians. Things do get better, names are chosen more carefully. My gay friend Ken told me today that when he heard Pete Buttigieg was in Biden's cabinet, he cried with joy, for all the gay young people who might move forward with new hope and validation. Things do get better. Yes. 
Finally, an image to which we can all, perhaps, relate:

Hot fresh audiobook available on Audible.com. Get yours today.

Such good news! After three months of delay, the audiobook I taped in early September is finally available for purchase on Audible.com. If you know someone who likes to listen to books while they jog or commute or work - here's the perfect Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Whatever you celebrate present! Please tell your friends. 

https://www.audible.ca/pd/B08QW4L2CT?qid=1608246852&sr=1-3&ref=a_search_c3_lProduct_1_3&pf_rd_p=b278ed0a-c3b2-4491-808c-7cb2190a487c&pf_rd_r=9A9HNXN24WSCX8DVWA56

And more excitement: I did a live interview this afternoon for Allison Dore's program The Breakdown on SiriusXM167. She's lively, bright, interested in books and much else, and has a 3-hour program every afternoon. Our interview about "Loose Woman" was supposed to last 15-20 minutes, but we talked intensely for close to half an hour. Enjoyed every minute. 

And more - friend and student Ruth Miller wrote a gorgeous essay for class, one of her best, which we insisted she send off to the Globe. They've just accepted it, and it'll appear soon; stay tuned. I myself sent an essay yesterday to the Star about vaccine scepticism and my dad's polio but have not heard, will send it elsewhere if they don't get in touch soon. The nineties was my essays period, when I was sending out constantly with scores of pieces in newspapers and magazines and on CBC. I stopped writing essays to concentrate on books. This is the first time since that I've started in a serious way to write and send essays again. Do-able, as they say. Not the long term grief of books. Short term pain.

And more - Anna has been volunteering with a group making meals for Indigenous elders and the unhoused, often with traditional ingredients. They've just received a big grant from the city, so soon this will be her official job. When Covid is over they will actually welcome people to sit and eat, but in the meantime, they prepare meals for delivery. Both my children, for some strange reason, make their living feeding people, welcoming them, serving them. Proud mama here. 

Last night, flipping around on the TV, a doc on inter-species friendships - a goat who spent his life patiently guiding a blind horse, a deer and a dog who are best friends, greeting each other and frolicking together - very moving. Steve Paikin chatting with musicians about Beethoven, what is it about his music that endures? He showed a YouTube clip - a rapper from the projects listening to a symphony for the first time, the 5th, beginning to cry, saying, in his inimitable way that I cannot imitate, If this is number five, what are numbers one, two, three, and four like? 

My good friend the TV. My good friends FB and Twitter which keep me in touch, despite the stern disapproval of my blog friend Juliet, who reprimanded me after my last post. And then my actual friends - talked to Lynn today on Skype, she in Montpellier having to isolate after a possible exposure to Covid. Monique, of course. And besides that - no one. Not a soul. Just moi. I did go for a walk, do an exercise class on Zoom, practice the piano briefly, sit at my desk all morning. Got embroiled in a controversy about the choice of firm for the next stage of the Regent Park development, sent a flurry of letters of protest, including to the man in charge at Toronto Community Housing who replied within 15 minutes! Beware an articulate woman with a word processor and Google.

Tonight, a reward for good behaviour: the last two episodes of the Crown, and reading. Routine is key. 

From Duncan: Your book is a very compelling read Beth. Wow, such honesty and clarity, something that eludes me in my own writing. Your kids must love this book?

I wonder if they'll ever read it.

Giving Voice

Dear friends, here's a "must see" recommendation for you: last night I watched "Giving Voice," a documentary on Netflix, with tears streaming down my face. It's about teenagers of colour from disadvantaged communities who enter a competition to perform a monologue from one of August Wilson's plays. The camera follows some of them home; we see where they live, we hear about their lives and struggles and hopes, and then we see them act. As a former actor, this film about the power of theatre, the love of performance that springs up in a young heart, is beautiful beyond words. And a shout out to the drama and English teachers out there who encourage and foster and push. The ending, the actual competition, is as riveting as anything I've seen on film. Don't miss it. 

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/11/movies/giving-voice-review.html?action=click&module=RelatedLinks&pgtype=Article

Another cold grey day. My daytimer, usually jammed with scribbles, is almost entirely blank, and there's a temptation to sink into the comfy chair and spend the day with FB and Twitter. Today I have a CNFC conference committee meeting. Tomorrow and Friday, nothing scheduled. Thursday, great excitement, an interview with SiriusXM's Allison Gore about my memoir. The weekend is blank.

But I'm spending hours at my desk plowing through dusty, nay, filthy boxes of papers and photos as I begin work on an essay, or something, about my uncle Edgar the world bridge expert - tying him to "The Queen's Gambit," the story of another eccentric game-playing competitive obsessive. And then there's Netflix! Walks. Exercising with Zoom. Cooking. Grocery shopping. Feeding the birds. We'll keep busy. 

In the meantime, the vaccine is being injected into the arms of Canadians, and the Electoral College did its job. Things are looking up. 

Kathryn in Vancouver just wrote, "Bravo! I finished reading Loose Woman and enjoyed it so much, not just your excellent writing, but also as it was a real trip down memory lane for me."

Rosemary, who read one of the first drafts, wrote, "I’m enjoying Loose Woman so much. The language is much richer than the earlier drafts, as are your personal insights. Even people with small roles come through so clearly – and I get interested in them." 

And best of all, Eli wrote a note to his mother. We are a note-writing family; I used to write to my kids about their behaviour and their lives, and they'd write back. It's thrilling to see that the tradition continues.

I am sorry I did not do wact was agspexted from me. Can you frgiv me?I am sooooo sorry about every thing I did today and every othr day.Love Eli and Ben to Mum
Be still my beating heart.

bitching

You think I'm just a terminally cheerful person, don't you? But no, I can be crabby and critical, yes, it's true. I turned on NBC's "Broadway Cares" on Friday, looking forward to seeing Broadway performers in excerpts from their shows, raising money for theatre people out of work for nearly a year, certainly a cause dear to my heart. My poor ex, with his vast building in Washington - three theatres - shuttered, many people laid off, no idea when things will start up again. So I was thrilled to check out this show. But - why do singers yell these days? Everything at 2000 watt energy. Tone it down! There were a few good numbers, but when You Oughta Know from the Alanis Morissette musical came on, a young woman howling in rage at top volume, I turned it off. 

Last night I watched "Let Them All Talk," with a stellar cast, about a famous writer sailing to England on the Queen Mary - what could go wrong? A lot, as it turned out. Partially improvised, it was meandering and more or less pointless, though it did feature three older actresses including the ubiquitous Meryl, so that's good. The major plot point was the author bringing two of her best friends along on the trip, one of whom had had her life ruined by exposure in one of the author's books. But was anything explored or resolved? Nyet. Candace Bergen was terrifically authentic as the sour, damaged friend desperate to hook a rich man. 

At the end, I thought, well, there's two hours of my life I won't get back. And then - God, it'd be fun to travel on the gorgeous Queen Mary, especially as a famous author in a luxurious two-story suite. Any day now.

A grey gloomy drizzly day. Yesterday was lovely and warmish; while out for a jogette, I ran into Pierre, a nice young man from Paris who lives across the street, and invited him to join Monique and me for apéritif on her porch at 5. Then her nephew Tom and his partner Olivier dropped over and sat nearby, so we had a grand porch party with three handsome young men, in French. Human company - what a rare, much needed treat. Pierre bought on this block without knowing there are six people fluent in French a stone's throw from his front door. 

Today, for the first time in months, I have a piano lesson. It'll be painful, as practicing has been, to put it mildly, sporadic. As in, almost nil. But it'll be good to see Peter, who's coming for tea. Tonight I have not one but two Zoom concerts to choose from, bad planning on my part: James Ehnes, with Stewart Goodyear on piano, playing 3 Beethoven violin sonatas, and the Gryphon Trio performing Beethoven piano trios. Luckily I can spread them out, so I don't overdose on Beethoven today, especially if I've struggled through the Moonlight Sonata for Peter. 

Though as the rain pours through thick pewter clouds, this is a good day for some Ludwig, to be sure. 

Happy Chanukah!

Christmas through the years, an essay for the CBC

John Lennon, dead forty years yesterday. Much missed. As I do with my friend Bob Handforth, I often wonder what John would make of this or that in the world. Brilliant men with so much to give, gone far too soon. 

Taught two Zoom classes yesterday; the second one ended with us toasting each other and our year together with wine and cheese. Yes, not together, but almost, close enough for now. I'm sure next year, when we've all been vaccinated, we'll get together but still keep the Zoom component for those who can't make it over. Best of both worlds, no? 

I'm going to start a list: What Brought Me Joy This Difficult Year. Stay tuned. But in the meantime, I sent out several Xmas essays to the student writers yesterday and will post them for you too. One is by Truman Capote, one of my favourite pieces of writing ever, one by a former student, ditto, and one by me. 

So on this dark and gloomy day, here's the essay I read on CBC twenty-three years ago. No idea why the two pages are two different sizes. The mysteries of Blogger.

Loose Woman on the march!

Just checked the Toronto Public Library, and there she is, Loose Woman. Not in hard copy, not yet, but two copies of the eBook are there, and there are three holds already! 

Validation. When it's in the library, the book exists. It counts. 

And a nice mention from the Globe arts reporter, Marsha Lederman, in her weekend column recommending books for the holidays: 

Also two lesser-known books by authors I’ve gotten to know by email: Loose Woman by Beth Kaplan, a memoir that begins with her time working as an actor in Vancouver... 

Maybe lesser-known, but with three holds at the library!

An email from my new friend Trevor in Denmark, a scientist and former student of my father's with whom I've been corresponding:

Read your wonderful book, love it, you shine out of it! In line with a comment on your blog, it sent me back in my own memories to those times. I will buy the book for a few friends who I know will appreciate it. As you likely know already it speaks to all of us from the same generation. It is also very well-crafted.

Thank you, Trevor. "You shine out of it" - now that's good to read. As I wrote to you, "it sent me back in my own memories" is one reason memoir matters: we write for those who don't, to escort them into their own pasts. To help open those long-closed doors.

From Kate Braid, one of the writers at the CNFC Zoom event, after I wrote to tell her I enjoyed her reading:

Thank you for your reading too. It offers a fascinating glimpse. I was very curious about L’Arche for years, and have huge respect for the volunteers – like you – who work there. Your answer to the question of the sexual abuse was very well done, and clear. I look forward to reading your book.

An order from Myrna Kostash, esteemed writer and one of the founders of CNFC, for two books to be sent to her and family in Edmonton. 

And word from the publicist in Vancouver: a request for an interview for "The Breakdown" on SiriusXM. 

These kind words may not be the New York Times bestseller list, but they're very welcome just the same. 

Exhausted - spent the day with my grandsons; we went to the High Park castle playground where I played the big bad wolf again, chasing delicious boys to eat them for lunch. GRRRR! It was freezing. What a wonderful place it is, though.

So, a night of recuperation, emailing, and TV - "His Dark Materials" on now, just my speed. Thank you, friends, for following the ups and downs, oh the downs, of my journey. Sending you love.

Lights in the darkness

Oh Zoom, how did we do without you all those years? What an amazing few days - first, the big event from the National Yiddish Book Center in Amherst, Mass., featuring the descendants of famous Yiddish writers: David Mazower the event producer from the Center, Itzik Gottesman from Austin, Texas, and me. It was wonderful. David and Itzik were interesting and vivid; Itzik lives his entire life, it seems, in and for Yiddish. It was a warm and moving encounter. David told me that over 400 people have so far watched so far, live and on the Center's FB page. 

https://www.facebook.com/watch/live/?v=849404005881369&ref=watch_permalin

Watching it afterwards I was horrified to see myself nodding and twitching my lips; there seems to be spotlight shining on my jowls, and my eyes are so squinty it looks like I'm blind. Otherwise, hunky dory.

During our talk I mentioned my father's younger brother, Edgar Kaplan the world bridge champion. Itzik said he was most impressed by my connection not just to my great-grandfather, but to Edgar Kaplan. To those who play bridge, he's legendary. It's a story I must tell, what I know of this extraordinary and brilliant man, who became my best friend during the last decade of his life.  

So Saturday I opened the box in my office marked "Uncle Edgar" - stuff I brought back from NYC after his death. A ton of interesting mementoes including two little looseleaf notebooks his wife Betty kept of their favourite recipes, which includes Edgar's cocktails recipes. He invented cocktails and gave them the names of friends, and Betty wrote it all down. What a gift for my son the cocktail maker! Shh, don't tell him.

And then the Creative Nonfiction Collective's Zoom reading of new books - five writers, hosted by Vancouver's Betsy Warland - again, from around the country, a fascinating collection of diverse voices, reading about a schizophrenic artist brother, a father's war connection with an Indigenous scout, a meditation on Lost Lagoon in Vancouver and on being a woman working in construction ... terrific stuff. 

Phenomenal to sit in my kitchen communing with the world. 

Three more episodes of "The Crown." Does life get better? Poor Prince Charles really does not come off well, though the implication is that the Queen, though well-meaning, was so formal and distant, her children are handicapped for life. 

Today, I got out the Xmas box and dove into the decorations - not ready for the tree yet but did get something up outside. People in this 'hood believe strongly in celebratory lights; usually I just have some hanging from my eavestroughs but Bill who puts them up is MIA. (Though he looks like Methuselah, he just turned 65 and got a government pension which may be why he isn't at my door asking for work. I hope it's that.) Today I got out a structure that's for climbing plants like clematis, wound my lights around it, and put it out. It's perhaps hideous, but ingenious, no? I need a star or something for the top. Also, it is locked to my banister with a bike lock, because otherwise ... things vanish. 

It may be dark and cold, but at old 308, there will be light. 

A bizarre contract from 1948

It's what I call a show day - tonight at 7 I'll be Zooming with the National Yiddish Book Centre in front of possibly a hundred people or more. Teaching days were show days - storing energy for the show, even if that now means just sitting in my kitchen, trying to look smart. 

I wrote here last time that I have a finger that once bent, gets stuck and needs to be snapped out by another finger. Chris wrote to inform me that he has TWO fingers like that. Oh sure, Chris, trying to one-up me as usual! He told me there's a name: stenosing tenosynovitis or trigger finger. It feels good that it has a name. 

So - sometimes rising in the morning with so much back pain that I can hardly walk; swelling knuckles; trigger finger; cracking knees. I think the ears aren't working as well as they could. But when you think of all the moving parts that've been going for 70 years - well, we're doing pretty well, this old bod and I. Not a single complaint.

I have found something bizarre and amazing in my mother's papers: a contract she signed and sent to Dad about their sexual activities, and consent. Have to say, considering it's from 1948, it's amazingly relevant today. It's an official-looking printed document with dotted lines to be filled in - Mum's answers indicated in italics. Barkus was their nickname for Dad's penis (from the line "Barkus is willin'" from David Copperfield) and La Lion(ne) was one of Mum's nicknames. The (more than somewhat) was a joke between them; apparently once Dad said, "I have strong feelings about you," and Mum in her British way replied, "I like you more than somewhat." The Mann Act, originally about prostitution, was used wrongly to prosecute ordinary people for sexual activity. Who knows what else I'll find in these papers?! (Sorry, the ends of sentences are cut off.)