Nows

That forest-canopy feeling should be 
experienced every once in a now.

From a conversation I had today...

Her face puzzled, she asked, "don't you mean once in a while?"

Curious, I replied, "what did I say?"

"You said once in a now." 

I smiled, "that's actually better. Why wait?"

Sometimes malapropisms improve on the original. And then later today, while walking, I remembered something poet-marvel Emily Dickinson wrote: "forever is composed of nows." 

Wise words, indeed.  

So friends, what might you stop waiting for and enjoy every once in a now? 

Things that deserve the stink-eye

 

via GIPHY (the sign for idiot)

Oh, today's news. The incoming US Liar-in-Chief continues to muse about annexing Canada...hence the sign above. (Insert eye roll here.)

Historians may know that Americans tried this once before: the War of 1812. And yes, some argue this war was just a leveraging technique against Britain. Considering US history, that's understandable. But the outcome? Pretty much nothing, although the Canadians (technically referred to as British loyalists at that time), burned The White House in retaliation for US troops burning a portion of York (present-day Toronto). Oh, and there was an unintended outcome: it galvanized those British Loyalists and helped forge a Canadian identity. (Insert maple leaf here.)

Is today's news another leveraging technique? Probably...but this time more for his amusement, I guess? Something else he obviously doesn't understand or care about: since the 1800s, US & Canadian citizens have shared a border with no major conflicts, whatsoever. We've been friends for centuries, supporting each other in world conflicts. Remember 911? To me, that's more important than today's anti-democratic pissing-contest nonsense, likely to be continued for the next four years ad nauseum. Sigh. Dear US friends, hang in there. 

Also, GARDYLOO.

New Year? New Mantra?

source

As the Scots say, Happy Hogmanay, aka Happy New Year!

If you've been reading my blog for a while, you may know most of my ancestors belong to the Canadian arm of the Scottish diaspora, and thanks to my immigrant great-grandparents, I love all things Scottish, especially the accent and in particular, the slang. As we all peek (with trepidation) around the corner into 2025, I am reminded of one of my favourite Scottish words (and the historical custom it inspired): GARDYLOO!

Apparently once a law in Edinburgh, this Scots term was used as "a warning cry before throwing a bucket of dirty water from a window into the street." Pre-plumbing, y'all can imagine what was in that bucket:💩. 

Of course there is much I'm anticipating in 2025 (birthdays, projects, travel, reunions, etc), but we all know "shit's going down" next year and if humour is your coping method, may I suggest you cry in the shower if necessary, BUT ALSO ENJOY RANDOMLY YELLING GARDYLOO AS NEEDED (and remember you are not alone.) 

Happy "Gardyloo" year, dear friends. 

Fave Reads 2024

I couldn't put it down.
I am still talking
to anyone and
everyone about it.
Whether you're 
familiar with Jim 
from Huck Finn,
or not, knowing
James will change
you. Everett's
newest novel is
thoroughly
engaging,
compelling and a
deeply important
lesson in perspective.

All my life I've leaned on books. I trust them. Therapy's great too, but books more than suffice. 

This year, I aimed to read mostly memoirs and piggyback off the perseverance of others. Survivor stories boosted my grit, but nonfiction steered me to fiction too. Two fiction titles became all time favourites: James & The Nickel Boys. Likely soon to be/already banned from schools and libraries by idiots, I encourage you to read them in 2025. 

I cried through
the last chapter.
Reminded me
of Canada's
residential schools
history, and how
systemic anti-Black
racism continues to 
reverberate. Illustrates
oppression & 
depression so so 
accurately. 
It made me wonder
how MLK Jr. would
respond to Elwood's
plight and resolve.
I can't wait to
see the film.

Genre-defying. Is it 
horror? Mystery? 
Magic Realism?
Talk about an 
unreliable narrator.
It's cryptic, and
unsettling, but if 
you've ever felt
woefully obligated
and overwhelmed
by other's privileged
expectations,
narcissism, or
ridiculous needs,
you might recognize
this anti-hero.

It's been on my list
since it won Canada
Reads in 2019. 
At first, it's not much
different than many
other gripping
holocaust survivor
horror-memoirs,
but eventually,
Eisen was dumped
in a hospital
and what happens
there underscores
both injustice
and resistance in 
surprising ways. 

Doesn't everyone
periodically hide
in the room where all
the coats are at a 
party? Or perhaps 
the bathroom at work?
Got social anxiety?
Are you an introvert
(or love one)?
This graphic self-
help book (?) is
like deep breathing.
Joe Pera, a
comedian unlike
any other I've
witnessed, brings the
awkward to every
situation, and makes
me laugh out loud. 

And just one more:
plucky Matilda.
I hope you're familiar
with Harry Style's song
Matilda. Dedicated
to truly seeing,
acknowledging,
and respecting a
friend's childhood
trauma, this warm
song invites healing
and so does this
book, as it models
to readers that you
"don't have to be
sorry for leaving"
your toxic family
and making a 
better one for 
yourself. 

Look Closely

Absolutely love kids' drawings...
look closely to read this artist's message.

"Look closely at the present you are constructing; it should look like the future you are dreaming."          ~Alice Walker

A happy Christmas to you and yours. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Let's be honest, learning to spell is hard, but adorable, and perhaps unintentionally awkward? Ask any seven year old, especially this one who has a good grasp of the letter sounds, if not technical clarity. A+ for phonics, 'not yet meeting' for orthography. :)

This young writer responded to the sentence stem, "Peace is...." 

Do you, ahem, agree with her? Or how would you complete the sentence? 

Oh, and peace be cwit you, ha.

(If you're struggling to solve this, unscramble these letters: etqui.)

....

source

(I've been trying to write about the world for weeks and I'm still struggling to find the words, but currently, this is it.)

One June I discovered them. About nine feet high, our deck looks out over our backyard, more of a balcony. Walking along the deck to our back door, I was startled by a robin that flew from what seemed like directly under me. Looking downward through the narrow gaps in the floorboards, I glimpsed movement. Startled, there were three newly hatched, featherless, and blind baby robins in a nest just centimeters from my feet, their mouths open, silent. 

Anyone arriving at our back door would be unaware their feet walked over a nest. It made sense to be excited by this discovery, by this intimate window into nature, but those three robins troubled me. 

Master nest builders for millennia before me, who am I to question the bird's nest, its design, its location, its anything? But there was a better choice. That fragile, hidden nest rattled me: why would a bird construct a nest it should know is unsafe? What prompted this mistake? Were resources scarce? Did some other danger prevent the bird from choosing a better location? Or was this something I couldn't fathom? Whatever the reason, I couldn't shake my doubt for those birds' safety.  

That feeling is the feeling I'm feeling: confusion and an unsettledness. And that nest is the current state of the world. 

I don't want to sound irrational. All over the world, (despite the news), parties continue to be planned, pregnancies are announced, concerts continue...plus, at the moment, my own little nest seems secure: we're healthy, we're finding meaning in new work, we're preparing for Christmas and a holiday, we're reading compelling books, savoring chocolate, playing Dutch Blitz and laughing with dear friends, and enjoying our grandchildren and yet... there's something else in the ellipses... something like those birds once under my deck. 

I don't aim to ruminate, or dampen spirits...but those birds...it feels like we're those birds.... One day they were gone: did they survive?

Perhaps though, there is another perspective to consider? Robins don't exist if they don't take risks. Nor do we. Why continue building a shaky nest? Because the risk is worth it, friends. Perhaps that's a lesson to live by in this shaky world. Whatever risks we face, we face them until one day we can, hopefully, fly away and build anew, more sturdy than now.

Fingers & Toes Crossed

I, M, & L

My three grandkids were together recently. I is almost 11 months, M is 3 1/2, and L is almost 18 months. 

Like my grandson in this pic, I grew up with cousins, two girls close to my age, one older and one younger. 

Gen X kids, we mostly raised ourselves. It wasn't easy. We knew how to fend for ourselves and how to disappear, but we filled our hiding places with music and candy and pretend and stories but mostly laughter, that sort of laughter that makes breathing sporadic. (You'd understand what was so funny if you watched us perform The Most Beautiful Girl in the World in a freezing cold unfinished basement for an audience of one bored and one bewildered cat.) 

With much to learn and no one safe to ask, we figured life out together, without judgment or shame—so relieving for a group of offbeat oddballs. Uncertain about ourselves, but relying on each other, our promises were kept: we crossed our hearts and hoped to die. We forgave each other's mistakes, all of them, I hope? Throughout childhood, there were few people I trusted more than those two. 

Inevitably, life led us in different directions. I miss them. I'm grateful for the cushion we constructed between ourselves and the world, and so of course I will foster this bond in I, in M, in L. And perhaps someday, fingers and toes crossed, my cousins and I will spend an entire sunrise to sunset with each other again. And since we no longer have to sneak whiskey shots, perhaps karaoke? 〵(⌒˽⌒)〴

Dear friends, did you grow up with cousins? 

Take Hold

I's hands

Ten-month old toddler hands rarely cease. 

Curious, her hands examine all things in her path from the stuffed bunny's button tail to the start "button" on the dump truck. Chewing a toy then dropping it and crawling to the next, climbing up the coffee table and inching her hands to one coaster, then the next, and the next. 

She absorbs this life hands first, then into her mouth, her eyes darting from one pursuit to the next, her ears perked by toys that beep or spin, then kitchen noises, then my voices. I wonder, what does she smell? Perhaps smell develops slowly, thankfully unadvanced until post-diaper life? 

I use ASL to encourage her with my own hands: yes and yes and yes. 

Oh to be a new human again, and take hold of the world. 

Coining it?

Perplexed, I discovered these coins in our kitchen sink. Literally, money down the drain?

My wife was away, so I texted her this pic. Later, she explained, "while cleaning our vehicle, I found the coins in the console, dusty, so I tossed them in the sink and ran water over them."

My (Dad) brain: 

1. Ah, so dirty money? 
2. Like nickel and grime?
3. Perhaps we should have laundered this money?
4. A penny for your "pots" (and pans)?
5. If only we had more than two nickels to scrub together....

¯\_(ツ)_/¯