Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 85

Day six

Saturday.

Cold but wonderful bright sun. Walked the 'hood with Ruth and her son's little beagle. Bought 4 bottles of wine. Got some more edits from one of my readers. Sat in the sun in my office reading them, plus FB, plus any news. Any news - what's new? What's happening out there? Long talk with Anna, who's fine. The boys are fine. I'm fine. Ruth is fine. The beagle is fine. There were snowdrops and croci on our walk. Spring will come.

Life is strange.

FB is a wonderful - my friends are out there. News too.

Had a fascinating email exchange with my British actress friend Harriet, reminiscing about our time in theatre school. Went for a short jogette in the cold sun, to get the body moving. Ate meals. Drank wine. Sam was going stir-crazy in his apartment and came over here; I hope he does not have germs. I watched a terrific Agatha Christie movie on my computer while he watched TV in the living room.

Happy birthday, Johann Sebastian Bach.

Day Five

This morning was blissfully mild and sunny. Line dancing was great fun, as always - Gina is the most upbeat person ever - until a sudden rainstorm sent us running home. I ventured to No Frills for groceries; there was line outside, only a few people allowed in at once. Some empty shelves, but plenty there - one woman with a cart loaded with, yes, toilet paper. Saw a cartoon on FB today: two dinosaurs looking up in horror at a large round object hurtling their way. One says, "It's an asteroid!" The other says, "Quick! Let's buy toilet paper!"

We're all just getting through here, so if massive quantities of toilet paper bring you comfort, go for it.

All kinds of funny and moving stuff being created and distributed online - it's marvellous. My U of T class is going to reassemble into an on-going writer's group. Bill wrote, in the group email, While we will be free of the tyranny of Beth poking at every last blemish, the best tribute we can pay her is to try to exert this tyranny on ourselves. Thank you Beth, and next time you go through customs you can say, like Oscar Wilde: ‘I have nothing to declare but my genius’.

LOL.

The trampoline was good, I gather from the FaceTime this morning - much bouncing. When the rain came, Anna took the big box the trampoline came in and turned it into a construction site for Ben.
Many many emails and texts, plus the Star, the online newspapers, FB, Twitter, Instagram, and then back again. What's happening now? The latest Trump outrage, insulting a reporter, beyond belief. Lock him up! My local city rep, Kristyn Wong-Tam, sends out a newsletter every day, updating us.

I sent the manuscript to some of my home students, and one has been sending me her comments. Hard, sometimes, but vital. Being read is vital. Thank you.

Friend Lani sent a bit of money to my kids to help them through a hard time. What a kind, thoughtful thing to do. Thank you!

Since it was so mild, I invited several neighbours to come sit on my deck for a drink. Ruth came, though by the time she arrived it was cold again. So we sat in coats, six feet apart on the deck, drinking wine and talking of nothing else.

May have drunk a tiny bit too much wine.

Late this aft, Uncle Sam took the boys to the beach.
Tomorrow is Johann Sebastian Bach's birthday. That's all I've got.

Covid homestay Day Four

It's hard to believe that only a few days ago, Ruth and I had dinner together, and a few days before that, I was out and about to movies, the ballet, the theatre. The speed with which our world is shrinking and everything has shut down is breathtaking. And it's still not extreme here in comparison with France, where Lynn writes that you are forbidden to go out at all except for food shopping or care of the elderly, only alone - not even with a spouse, not more than 2 k from your home, and with a downloaded note of authorization from the government. If caught without the note you pay a large fine - a particularly French detail.

Have to say that I think our government is doing a stellar job of making us feel informed and cared for. Trudeau seems to be doing a press conference every day, answering hard questions, sometimes with vague answers but he's there, he says money will be flowing to those in need. I hope our government's actions are appreciated. Especially in contrast with - need I say more?

I went for an evening walk and saw clumps of dog walkers chatting away, not taking social isolation seriously. But the streets were strangely still, except for more joggers and walkers than usual. On the way out I reached in to tidy the books in my Little Free Library and then realized - I TOUCHED STRANGE BOOKS. Stranger danger! Pulled out my hand sanitizer. Terror lurks.

But despite our isolation, thanks to our devices we are not isolated. I taught the last U of T class via Zoom today, emailed friends from around the world, FaceTimed with Anna and the boys, who were waiting impatiently for Thomas to set up the new trampoline - she doesn't waste time, my daughter - and did a few minutes of an online exercise class produced by the Y before finding it too absurd and dull. Now watching Steve Paikin's show about - what else - how to keep safe.

As a friend of Anna's wrote on FB, one day when our children or grandchildren are listening to their own kids complain about some deprivation, they'll talk about this time when they had to do without so much for weeks, possibly months. "This is their 'walked 2 miles in the snow to school' moment," she wrote, and it's true. It's also a kind of 9/11, in that it's something that touches the whole world and that none of us will ever forget. Though unlike 9/11, this disaster directly affects nearly everyone.

Now work is over for the term, and possibly for NEXT term, who knows? The calendar is bare. Every single thing is cancelled except Gina's miraculous line dancing.

An interesting time. Steve just speaking with a pain doctor who reports they might have discovered a vaccine in Marseilles. Fingers crossed. Otherwise - Tylenol.

Funny - just got this from Air Canada, a reminder that I was due to leave tomorrow evening for Paris.
I guess someone there isn't paying attention to the news.

And then, there's this, to cheer us up:

Pandemic, Day Three

This morning, 20 women showed up at the Sprucecourt playground for Gina's coronavirus line-dancing class. A few local kids joined in, at first making fun of us and then trying to follow. It's hard! At the end I suggested we all bring a tooney each time to pay our leader for her efforts, but she absolutely refused.

So, except in inclement weather, we'll be line-dancing in the playground every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the foreseeable future, keeping a strict six feet apart.

And that's it for today's schedule. All this time to work, to read, or to tidy - and all I want to do is go online and find out what's happening on the planet. Just watched a pianist play on his apartment balcony in Barcelona, joined by a sax player in another building, the concert applauded by all the surrounding apartments. Human beings, coping.

My daughter is a coper, yes, but she is a ferociously social animal, has been since birth, never happier than when surrounded by tons of people. This is brutal for her - not just dealing with her energetic boys and other kids, but not being able to invite people over, as she does all the time, or go visiting herself. She started a thread on FB - her lament echoed by all her friends with young children, all going nuts. I wrote that when they look back on this, they'll feel like my parents did remembering the war - that it proved how strong and resilient they were. But cold comfort in the middle of a crisis. I can't imagine what I'd be doing if I had young kids with nowhere to go, still cold out though thank God not raining or snowing, and the possibility of infection everywhere. A nightmare.

I've offered to buy a trampoline for the kids, a birthday present for Eli in advance. Something to absorb some of that phenomenal boy-child energy. Waiting to hear if they think it's a good idea.

Otherwise - silence. I hope we all find out how strong and resilient we are. Because this is definitely a kind of war.

PS. Now this makes me happy - a two-hour long McCartney concert with footage. Woo hoo! Singalong!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKzYPv_fx7Y&feature=youtu.be&fbclid=IwAR3Rqss_7dvXfm4cqJhi5Gk18rXxjPsK9wRpu7qvLhgwbpc1lbOQMog7P4M

note from the trenches

Student Marcie, who lives in Italy part time but happily is not there now, just sent this - wise words from Italians. What pleasure to listen to the flow of that beautiful language.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_cImRzKXOs&feature=youtu.be

Last night, a huge treat, in Italian - the next season of My Brilliant Friend began on HBO, one of the best series ever. Superb.

Yesterday's line dancing class was a triumph. Gina is a twig, a lithe grandmother who looks seventeen. Her energy, humour, and great music kept us going through the cold wind. A toddler came from the playground nearby to stand staring at us in disbelief.
Portrait of courage or lunacy: Frozen Canadians, dancing.

I invited two friends over afterwards; one of them is going through a serious depression, to the point that we're very worried about her. So - tea and a long urgent talk about medication. Of course, this is not a good time to need a health care professional for any other reason than the virus.

Later, a CNFC board meeting via Zoom and a decision to cancel our conference and reschedule - not in the fall, as I'd thought, but next year at the same time and place. What a relief. We have a year to re-program.

And then, the last Ryerson class, also via Zoom - nine students on my screen, discussing each other's work. They've told their most important stories, learned some craft and technique, and now know each other very well. I hope they continue to meet.

Sam is off work for at least two weeks, but luckily he has savings. Luckily I have savings and tenants and can work virtually, and Anna is used to living on almost nothing and has more childcare work than she can handle. What this means for countless people who live on the edge = disaster. I hope the money the government promised will get to them asap. In the meantime, my daughter, in addition to looking after many children, made a vat of green curry soup yesterday and offered it online to anyone not too far away who needed food. So later she went out delivering soup. She's an atheist who lives the ideals of Christian charity. Don't tell her I said so, though.

Here's what the rest of the week holds: today a Skype editing session with a student, and then a walk with Ruth and her dog. Tomorrow, another line-dancing class. Thursday, the last U of T class via Zoom. Friday was supposed to be a book club meeting about Middlemarch, cancelled. It's the day I was due to leave for Paris. Saturday is Bach's birthday. In my daytimer - nothing, absolutely nothing.

But I'm used to that. I work from home; we self-employed writers are used to filling our solitary days. I am drowning in solo things to do - writing work, reading, endless reading, organizing and sorting, cleaning and tidying, cooking, piano practice, the garden, much more. All that matters is the focus to get it all done.

Focus. Aye, there's the rub.

Ciao, bella!

Pandemic Week, Day One

Monday of Pandemic Week: I'll be teaching the Ryerson class tonight, some 12 to 15 people, via Zoom. That will be interesting. They've been emailing their pieces and we'll discuss virtually; will do the same with the U of T class Thursday. I can teach wearing a respectable top and pyjama bottoms.

At 11 today, a real treat - my neighbour and friend Gina, who works at the Y which is now shut down - yes, hear Beth howl to the moon - wrote to say she is bringing her boombox to the Sprucecourt school grounds today at 11 and will teach a line dancing class. We can stay as far apart as we want, but we'll move. Hooray!

With all this crisis, the absurdities of hoarding and toilet paper shortages, human nature rises to the challenge; people are talking, open, laughing, helping. Jason wrote that he and his truck would be happy to deliver anything I need. We are going to take care of each other and get through. Those cheerful Italians, singing and exercising on their balconies!

For me, I figure that if I'm going to get it, I have it now, after a weekend with my grandsons, who touch everything in sight. I did my best to get them to wash their hands and to keep my own clean or to wear gloves. Just not possible sometimes. While they were here, Bruce sent an advisory for seniors issued by the NYTimes, including "Visits with grandchildren are not advisable." Too late. Anna will be on the front lines from today for the foreseeable future; she is babysitting a family of three this week and after that has offered to take the kids of two single mothers who have to go to work. So she'll have eight or nine children from 18 months to 7. With every resource in the city closed, except playgrounds. So there will be a lot of time at the beach by the lake and at playgrounds. What if it rains? She will cope.

But I wanted to give her a day off beforehand, so the boys were here overnight. Nearly killed me. "Glamma, you're it!"; they wanted to play tag, as we went from playground to playground. In desperation, I accosted a mother at one and got the names of her babysitters for next time. They're too much for me to handle alone, even just for 24 hours - nonstop relentless energy. I need back up.

We watched most of Lego Movie 2, which managed to have lots of action for them but also a complex existential plot with very funny bits for me - a rest break for us all. But I was happy to hand them back to Anna yesterday afternoon, her apartment spotless, her freezer jammed.

My fridge also is now full; I went with Gretchen to the market on Saturday morning and loaded up with veg, nuts, bread, coffee beans. The lineup at the Mennonite butchers was insanely long so I gave up, went to Mark's, also very busy. We're all planning for the apocalypse, in case we can't get out; I will be cooking a lot. Sam is preparing for his bar to shut down, though it has not yet. Tenant Robin will be working from home. My hairdresser Ingrid has cancelled this week's appointments including mine; my ex's theatre in Washington is closed. This city is closed. None of us has experienced anything like this; SARS was scary but over there, at a distance. This is everywhere.

Thank God for the internet, and books. Luckily I'd just bought the excellent Parisian Lives by Deirdre Bair, about how she wrote the biographies of Samuel Beckett and Simone de Beauvoir. So I'm in Paris now, in a way, with 400 books waiting, not to mention what's on the other side of this little screen. And the good news is: they say his appalling handling of this means the end of the orange blowhole. It took that level of criminal incompetence for America to wake up.

In the midst of all this, I got word from her daughter Patti that my father's cousin Lola died yesterday, at 98, in her own home. When we spoke last month, she was angry, ready to go, so it was time. But still, it makes me sad - she is almost the last of that generation. A big empty space on my next visit to New York.

Okay, off into this strangely quiet isolated day. Be safe, dear readers. Be well. Be well. Be well.

Meeting the Beatles in India - and a certain virus

The happy news first - friend Ruth and I went the other day to a free presentation of a wonderful documentary, Meeting the Beatles in India, by Paul Saltzman. It's a great story - in 1968, young Paul left Montreal on a spiritual quest that ended up in Rishikesh, where the Maharishi was training the Beatles in meditation. Saltzman became friends with them for a week, took some of the most beautiful pictures of that time, and heard a few of the White Album songs as they were being written. For the film, he goes to Hawaii to interview the actual Bungalow Bill, who shot a tiger while at the ashram with his mother and was condemned by John first in person and then in song. ("I haven't owned a gun since," he says. "I'm a conservationist.")
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun
In case of accidents he always took his mom
He's the all American bullet-headed saxon mother's son.But the doc isn't just about the fab four, it's about meditation itself, what the practice has meant to Saltzman and to filmmaker David Lynch, who has a foundation devoted to furthering the word, and others who were interviewed. So the film is both about the Beatles, their music and joyful humour - "It was obvious they were brothers," Paul says - and about the powerful spiritual exercise of sitting still and going deep.

Loved it.

And now, for the reality of a global pandemic. Wow - this Covid-19 crisis gives a tiny hint of what the declaration of war must have been like for my young mother in England in 1939 - suddenly, in a moment, everything changes, there's panic and uncertainty. It's incredible how fast things are moving here and how obsessed everyone is, talking of nothing else. No Frills was crazy today, people buying like mad in case they're quarantined; I figure if it happens to me, it'll give me a chance to explore the freezer of my fridge, where some stuff is at least a few years old... A friend at the grocery store told me he watched two men fighting over a chicken.

The last classes of term next week are cancelled at both U of T and Ry, but we immediately arranged for online classes, so students don't miss out. I told them I might enjoy a tiny glass of wine while we work over Zoom. The grandkids will be out of school for at least 3 weeks, so for that alone, I'm glad I'll be around; Anna babysits for a working mother, so will have 3 extra children including a tiny 18-month old plus her own, and most activities shut down in the city including sports classes for kids. I may be able to help. The boys are coming for a sleepover tomorrow to give her a break, though she did warn me they may be carriers. Well - I'll take my chances.

Some of my home class came last night; others cancelled. Those who were here had a rollicking time, though no hugs, only elbow bumps and Namaste's. Terrible to be so frightened and suspicious - of hands, of surfaces, of strangers. It's crazy - there are few cases in Canada, almost no one has died here, most people recover, the flu is worse. But the media is having a field day revving us up, and terror is everywhere. Cancellations and closure announcements are pouring in, including one from the Harry Ransom Centre in Austin, Texas, which I visited once at least 8 years ago. We're trying to figure out whether to cancel our nonfiction conference, which took many months to organize.

And the stock market is plunging and Trump is plainly losing what little mind he has and things are pretty damn dire right now. But - it's after 5, time to put away the teacup and have a glass of wine and some cheese. And then maybe I'll watch some Netflix on my television for the first time and then Bill Maher. Pleasure is always possible, my friends.

Just invited my neighbour Monique for aperitif, which we often have together. But she's just back from a flight from the States so is in self-imposed quarantine for two weeks, no contact allowed. Incroyable.

"Emma," and a satisfied student

My tenant Robin came in last night and told me I should see the new Emma, that he'd just seen it a second time and thought I'd enjoy it. "I've just been, this afternoon," I said. "I loved every minute."

It's heavenly - just the sets alone, stately houses and verdant English villages, swards of green and rolling hills dotted with photogenic sheep (where it never, implausibly, rains) - my heritage on my mother's side. The china and furniture, the costumes, oh the material of those costumes, the jewelry and ridiculous hair, all of it perfect. The genius of Jane Austen, a story more than 200 years old set firmly in its time and place, and yet providing up-to-the-minute social commentary and insight into human flaws: greed, vanity, selfishness, snobbishness, hypochondria. What a sharp clear eye she had, this writer.

Quibbles - for me, mostly that the actress playing Emma, Anya Taylor-Joy, is so odd-looking, with a tiny face and a teeny bow mouth; though a good actress, she seems too arch and too young. Otherwise the cast is spectacular, including Josh O'Connor as the venal, vain minister, like Mr. Collins in P and P; how Jane loved to skewer ministers. Bill Nighy as Mr. Woodhouse - no one but Nighy could make the insufferably self-pitying Mr. Woodhouse so sympathetic and understandable. And especially - be still my beating heart - Johnny Flynn as Mr. Knightley. Who could imagine the stern Mr. Knightley sexy as all get-out? But here he is, a tousled blonde, manly and smouldering with a nude scene, luscious in every way. (The Guardian: Johnny Flynn, combining vulnerability with a weapons-grade animal magnetism notably absent from Austen’s novel.)
Five stars. Give me weapons-grade animal magnetism any day. One headline read, "Move over Mr. Darcy." And that's saying a LOT.

Still working to cancel the many aspects of the trip. Getting there.

Received this today from a former student, a minister - a very nice minister, not a Jane-type minister - whose book is doing well; she forwarded a rave review. What pleasure to hear from her.

Hey Beth, my first ever book review - this is a book trade journal in the UK/Europe. My book is going really well and a German publisher has just bought the rights so its going to be translated!

I Just wanted to say thank you for your class and your book - it was so instrumental and formative for me. You challenged me to dig deeper, tell less and show more, take more risks, cut more adverbs!

I know I'm still just a new writer and have a long way to go to develop my craft, but I'm deeply grateful for all I learned from you. You are an extraordinary teacher and I wanted to give you my deepest thanks.

Hamilton, and the Sit Spot

I booked my March-April flights to and from Europe on points. Yesterday, an hour on hold with Air Canada's Aeroplan, only to find out that I'd forgotten the booking was with RBC Rewards. So, this morning, an hour on hold with RBC Rewards. With a $150 penalty - because Air Canada is not issuing refunds for trips to France - I have cancelled my trip.

Today it was reported that a woman in her sixties just returned from France with the virus. So - good call, Beth. Tho' I have much less concern about getting sick and more about being stuck under quarantine in France, driving my friends crazy.

Then I cancelled the little Paris hotel I'd booked for the end of my trip and must write to a bunch of friends I'd arranged to visit. Lynn is negotiating to cancel the airbnb flat she booked for us both and Bruce our train tickets and flats in Venice, Vienna, Budapest. Now I'm on hold with RBC travel insurance to see if I can get anything back for the EasyJet flights booked with my Visa card. Another hour with that hideous music designed to drive you mad. And then I need to try to cancel the health insurance I took out for the trip. It's more complicated NOT to travel than to actually go somewhere!

Now I'll be around for the advent of spring in Toronto. I like to leave when the teaching terms end at the end of March because April is so interminable, still so cold when we're ready for heat and light. But - the sun is bright and this afternoon it's going up to 16!

As if in comfort, I was listening to CBC while on hold and heard the end of an interview with Richard Louv, who has written about Nature Deficit Disorder, how we need regular contact with nature and with animals. He recommends a "sit spot" where you sit quietly on a regular basis, just listening and watching and sensing. I have just the spot at the end of my garden, will go down there as soon as I get off @@#$#@ hold, and sit.

More rapture: yesterday saw a matinee of Hamilton and was overwhelmed with its incredible originality and nonstop action and dancing, music and history, its blend of the political and the personal. What infinite confidence to produce something so groundbreaking: a jazzy hip hop musical with a cast mostly of colour about key moments in early American history, what lunatic thought of this? It assaults you, in the best way, from the first chord and never lets up. Phenomenal. And it was an understudy, fantastic, in the lead role!

I thought, no wonder the Americans, for better and for worse, with their limitless chutzpah and drive, ended up being the most powerful country on earth. Once upon a time. No more.

And now - to my Sit Spot.

PS. Sat for a bit in the sun but then had to get up and prune dead branches from the clematis. And then a young sparrow hawk hurled himself into a tree and tried to catch some lunch - the squawking of protest from his intended meals as they flew away! Made myself sit for a bit without worrying about what needs to be done in the garden. A marvel.

Macca and Beth!

Now on hold with Air Canada - half an hour so far - am going to cancel, I think. Sigh.

But - Penny just sent me this from England. Can you imagine? Cosmic. LOVE IT!!