Get Me to a Nunnery and Other Good Ideas.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and I'm unraveling. My positive state of mind is growing very negative, very quickly. This is a cause for concern because it reminds me of my teenaged anxiety over not being included. Everything is happening somewhere else, and I've been left out. This is particularly insane because I normally don't like the to-do around New Years Eve. When I'm in London we go out for a lovely dinner and later the kids go to a party and I stay home with the cats. I watch TV and then they come home.  It was a wonderful evening for both generations. I just wasn't prepared not to see Maya at all this season and that is taking its toll as well.

 I used to make beautiful N.Y's Eve dinners in New York and Toronto and invited all my closest friends. We had fun, it was warm and meaningful. I would also include strays and orphans at my table. I always took steps to ensure that I wasn't alone. This year I am alone on the eve and for the day and all the old fears are creeping back under my skin. Wow. I'm 71 and the ghosts of 17 are coming back.

We had hilarious parodies of classic N.Ys parties after I moved to Peterborough and Mary was still alive. We would dress up with  cocktail hats and fedoras, or funny hats and masks to dine out splendidly and then bring in the New Year at Mary and David's or my place. It was gentle fun. Mary usually fell asleep before midnight and had to be roused for the toast. Wayne told stories and we gossiped about work. We belonged, there were no outsiders and we went home after midnight. Except for the few occasions when Ray was present or Gary Forma, I was always the only unpartnered woman and it didn't matter.

I find myself at 71, still unpartnered and very much alone. I need to understand why I can handle this 364 days of the year but not on New Year's Eve? These fears are totally baffling and very unhealthy. What other demons from my past will arise in my old age.?  Why haven't I faced them years ago and how can I put them to rest?  For that matter, how is it that I have spent so many years alone? Am I so formidable that no man  ever wanted to know and love me?  See how damaging this state of mind can be? I'm alone for New Year ergo I'm unloved.

Claire, get off your duff or "get thee to a nunnery" before you turn into a geriatric Mildred, all. about me all the time. Ewe, what a dreadful fate. Focus on the good stuff.. Two of my sculptures were selected by an AGP jury for the 2012 AGP Triennial. I sold some art, I had a nice show at Chasing the Cheese and my painting is really improving a lot. My health was good enough to permit me to travel.  I had a great visit with Pat here and a wonderful trip to Holland. People love and care for me there.  It's time to start moving forward again; to rejoin my classes at the Peterborough School of  Art, and to resume a diet and fitness regime.

Lets start today by paying bills and organizing my tax files. Now doesn't that feel like fun.

In the company of good friends.

Two days since Christmas day and the last night of Chanukah. The holiday memories linger as I prepare to assume a normal routine again. It was a surprisingly pleasant time this year. I say surprisingly, because I have not spent Christmas with Maya and Glenn. I stayed home alone and I was afraid it would be terribly lonely. It was actually quite enjoyable. I'm happy to note, I survived the periodic stabs of loneliness.

Yes there were some. Mostly, I didn't know what to expect from a family-less Christmas. For example, I bought two tortieres and a stuffed turkey breast in case I would be required to produce a full Christmas dinner for surprise guests - like whom? Elija, perhaps? I have cooked for others so many years, that I just couldn't bear the reality: nobody would be coming for Christmas dinner. I was invited out for Christmas Eve lunch. Unpartnered women get invited to lunch a lot because there is no room for them on the Ark of couples dinner parties. It was a lovely lunch with a true friend that I enjoyed greatly. But Christmas Eve I spent in my own company until I went to Church. It was beautiful to be in the fellowship of others on such an important evening. Christmas day was spent with my two cats. We opened a few presents, catnip toys for the cats and then I ate an omelet for lunch and a lobster for supper.

 In retrospect, I did find it lonely. It was not self-pityingly lonely, but I found the day long. I treated myself to a long soak in a scented bath, listened to Christmas music and went to bed early. Boxing Day was the big day for Christmas dinner. I was invited to spend the afternoon and evening with the Mutton family, in their new house. It was like days of yore when our two families spent every Christmas dinner together, sometimes here and more often at their place. The kids were the same ages and enjoyed each other. It was always fun and yesterday was no exception. Only with the passage of time, another generation of little children have been added. They now have a young nephew Colin and a beautiful baby grand daughter.

We played games after dinner as always and Phil retired because of a bad cold. Colin was wound up from too much sugar and because he was over tired, but baby Claire chortled on happily. Wayne was so pleased and happy and they all were genuinely happy to welcome me back into the fold. I felt wanted and part of the family of man. I drove home at midnight filled with gratitude and blessed with good friends.

So all in all it was a good Christmas experience. Having my daughter near me is better, but if needed, I can do well in the company of good friends. My cats are recovering from several days of treats and new catnip toys. They liked Christmas very much indeed. Life is good.

On traveling home December 7, 2011

Well, I'm on board the plane waiting for take off. I'm in the exact seat I had when I left Canada. It's so much more comfortable in Economy Comfort. Everyone has been very nice at the airport and I got assistance from check in to the gate.Martine came with me on the train , so it was fun and relaxed. One train from Nijmegen to Schipol. We checked my baggage, had a bite of lunch (delicious) and then we said good-bye. It was sad to say good-bye to the kids and Jan but saying good-bye to Martine was saddest of all (except for little Karol).

That dear little dog knew something was up and was glued to me for the last forty-eight hours. He slept with me, followed me into the toilet, sat on my knee during TV, waited for me at the ATM machine etc. Whenever Norah came near me there was a jealous outburst.

I'm on my way over the Atlantic. I had a very good supper, some juice and Tonic but cannot sleep or even nap. When flying to Canada we are in constant daylight.

On privacy and the Dutch Connection

Wait a minute guys. What is this about adding my mobile phone number to the security check? How does giving more information equate with more security for me? What if I'm a neanderthal without a mobile phone or a misanthrope who won't share? Does that mean that I will eventually be denied access to my own blog? So the more we surrender our privacy, the greater our access to self-expression? It may soon be time to step away from blogging to protect some shreds of privacy.

Relax guys, nobody reads my Blog anyway. I won't be starting any geriatric revolution in the foreseeable future. Three old women and my daughter doesn't constitute a threat to the status quo.

I have returned from the civility of my beloved birthplace. Holland was wonderful and maddening and enticing. It's a geographically tiny land which is getting ever more developed. Driving is a nightmare but the trains are awesome, on schedule and comfortable. They have some design flaws that impede access for the elderly and infirm. I didn't see many old folk on the trains. Could it be the steps onto and inside the trains? or could it be the lack of baggage storage space on the Schipol trains? Or the absence of maps inside the trains so that you can plan when to get off in advance. Some trains make announcements, others don't.

If you are not spry, an opportunity to preplan your entries and exits is a must. Alas, even with a good transit system, the designers are too young to understand mobility problems. On the other hand, there are still a great many young men in Holland who are willing to offer a helping hand. I was impressed with the courtesy shown me everywhere I went. Young women were generally less sensitive and courteous. If a woman was providing assistance, she was usually middle aged or over.

My friends in Rotterdam were kind, generous and a pleasure. Quita, is possibly the kindest and most thoughtful person I know. She structured our social life exactly in accordance with my capacity. As a result. I found my four days with her were perfectly paced and really interesting. We spent an afternoon in Voorburg where we lunched and had a nice afternoon shopping with a childhood friend Paula. Paula and I are Resistance children. Our parents were closely connected through opposition to the Nazi occupation. We were occasionally allowed to play with each other when we were secluded from other children. So there we were in Voorburg, women with a lifetime of memories dining and talking without skipping a beat. The next day, it was off with Quita for a day at the Rotterdam Kunsthal seeing the Stanley Spencer Exhibition. It was a splendid show and a fine lunch. My friendship with Quita is a blessing. I met her when Maya was six and in the same class with Justin, Quita's son. The kids loved each other and the parents had an instant rapport. When I was hospitalized for emergency surgery, Quita took Maya in till I recovered. A huge act of kindness when we barely knew each other. So here we are 28 years later - still friends.

Hernen, is my adoptive home ever since my parents died. My father's best friend Gert v d Steenhoven, became my surrogate father when I was so suddenly left alone. I always had a safe haven with him and his wife Nell. Their only daughter Martine, came into my life when I was thirty. I watched her grow up on my visits to my "Godfather" and was available when tragedy struck their home. Nell died suddenly when Martien was 16. An only child like me and motherless at an early age, Martien needed a safe place and an understanding woman. Oom Steen sent her to me for six weeks the following summer, and we became sisters during that critical time. To this day, sisters we remain, so all our visits are family experiences. Jan, her husband, and the three now teenaged kids are my niece and two nephews. No family bond is so tight as the family that chooses to be related. We are such a family. My days in Hernen were perfect days of family life sharing Sinterklaas festivities, Peter's 14 birthday and Astrid's 16 year old female dramas. It was little Leo (ten) that still was child enough to find me relentlessly interesting. It was great fun to be in a family again and very sad when I had to leave. Whatever happens though, we'll still be there for each other and that is a very comfortable feeling.

Maya, I fear, will not find her comfort there because she has grown away from the Dutch side of her heritage. Where she lands in the fullness of time, I can't say. She is forming her own connections with people that bring meaning to her life. The Dutch connection may end after me. That makes me very sad, but what will be will be.

Globalization and Positive Change

This is a bon voyage post because I'm leaving tomorrow and will not be blogging for a few weeks.

Amid the media pros and cons regarding the Occupy Movement, a personal response says - thank God - people are finally getting it. Our society is at risk not from the demonstrators who clearly love their country, but from the corporate interests who are overtaking and controlling the major societal decisions being made by government.

Globalization is a two pronged fork and it is only logical that one connects to the other. As corporate governments decide to broaden the market place for the benefit of the few, the people are growing ever poorer and disenfranchised. The many that have been bought off with cheaper international goods, can no longer pay for those goods because their jobs have also gone global. For some people, it has become very clear that the ubiquitous MacWalmarts have cost them and their local economies dearly. Corporate greed is swallowing up our way of life, killing the middle class dismantling unions and indenturing the working class.

I worried for a long time that people were passively being co-opted into acceptance of the status quo. I wondered why the people couldn't see what was happening to them. But, Globalization has also occurred in the communications sector so that we can all see what is happening in Egypt, Syria, Sudan, Libya, Greece, Italy and Ireland. People are rising up and saying NO. Nothing begets a movement better than witnessing massive injustice and resistance.

I see no distinction between the Arab Spring, African Diaspora, Greek riots and Occupy Wall Street, except location and style. We cannot keep propagandizing the joys of democracy without people wanting some. The Global 99 percent are angry with their leaders, businesses, banks and governments for selling their interests to the Global one percent, without any light on the horizon. If the powers that be don't shift their priorities soon we could be witnessing an ugly Global revolution.

The corporate media also have a choice to make - either keep obfuscating the truth in support of the status quo, or respect the depth of this movement and provide some analytical guidance for positive change. Instead of articles about dirty tent camps and traffic jams, lets see more articles questioning bank profits, environmental rape, downsizing's effect on local economies and corporate tax shelters. The Occupy Movement may be "leaderless" and lack a cohesive structure, but it's common issues are very clear to the corporate power structure. They will fight back hard and dirty.

They will go after the communications industry and try to close down the Global access to truth and free speech. But the people are also getting wise and we are seeing the first stages of a global revolution - not for communism, socialism or capitalism - but for an equitable share of the pie. That, ultimately, is the meaning of democracy.

It is time for world leaders: corporate, political, and religious to act responsibly and provide some positive change.

Guidelines for dealing with Geriatric Mothers.

It's been quite a while since my last post. I have been very busy with my art and stuff - hanging a modest show of painting at Chasing the Cheese; preparing two submissions to be judged for a group show at the AGP; working on my website; designing my Cat calendar for Christmas giving and wrapping up details for my trip to Holland this Thursday. It's all falling into place nicely so I'm taking a few moments to update Paws Awhile.

Maya was here for a couple of days to have a visit before I head to Europe. I'm glad she came even if she did need to work. We got along well even though I was overly sensitive to the "aging" remarks. I joke about it myself as a kind of defense against my own fears, but if it is raised too often by others, I begin to suspect that my frailties are clearer to others than I care for. Because we don't see each other often and she fears my loneliness, a kind of ironic banter between us masks our true feelings. When I really try to express a feeling that may makes her uncomfortable, she kind of bullies me into silence.

So we adopt the banter to half express ourselves. What she doesn't realize, is that I am moving on with my life and developing a loving detachment about hers. I must survive emotionally and with dignity without becoming dependent on her. We were always there for each other, we had no one else but each other as she grew up. Her life is now half of another partnership, and she can talk with Glenn about serious concerns. I don't have a partner to share with, so sometimes I open up to her. When it touches feelings that make her uncomfortable, she closes me down. It's a no win situation for me.

So let me be really clear Maya:
1. I am over the moon happy about your commitment with Glenn to settle down. The house is a brilliant decision that makes total sense. Yes I'm sad that London is so far away, but it is what it is.

2. I'm delighted that you are looking seriously at starting a family, and that Glenn recognizes that single parenting is not your preferred option. I also realize that being the more distant grandma will mean I will have a smaller role in your lives.
But I can be the eccentric Oma that comes once in a while for good times.

3. You are not responsible for my life and its ups and downs, so you need never feel guilty. If I qvetch from time to time, let me. I'm getting old and often feel achey. I put up with your adolescent moods and complaints and still loved you. You can put up with my geriatric moods and complaints in return, and still love me. You need to hear me without assuming guilt. My moods aren't about you

4. Unlike you as a teenager, I will not grow out of it. It can only get worse - it's a condition of old age. There is not going to be a happy ending. The most we can hope for is a sane and peaceful ending. Accept it, tuck it away but prepare your life accordingly. Make some effort to include me where you can and treat me with respect always. As I have always done with you.

5. Remind Glenn that though I'm not his mother, I will love him as my son. And, he will earn my undying gratitude when he recognizes that I can't help getting a little deaf, and speaks so that I can hear him. He has a good mind, and thoughts that I would dearly like to hear.

6. Remember always that I love you and want you to be happy. I would like to be happy too. You may not always need to hear from me, but I may need to hear from you, so humour me. Call or post me just to say hi.

...and b.t.w. Mothers do have special powers - like it or not. You'll see.

Meeting David Hockney

Thanks to Maya, I was able to experience the excitement of being a real, respected and innovative artist again. She had managed to get us both invited to a Twitter Party for David Hockney at the ROM. Twenty invitees arrived for the private showing some geeks, some art lovers and then there was me. I was introduced to several clever young things from the ROM marketing and curatorial staff who all wanted to see my iPad art. I showed a few paintings and before I knew it I was being thrust at the guest of honour with my iPad. David Hockney was dressed for the opera, where he was heading, and probably wishing he could have avoided this party. Nevertheless, he took the time to look at my work, ask some really good questions about the process and be generally supportive. I thanked him for his time and for showing us the way in this ground breaking exhibition of his digital art. I was the only one his age there, and the only one doing what he's been doing. Two old dogs clearly had learned new tricks. It was one of those rare unforgettable moments in my life. Then after our encounter he was whisked away to the opera by his handlers. It was telling that they let our conversation happen. I was taken seriously.

I had a truly remarkable day. The exhibition "Fresh Flowers" was absorbing and stunning. David Hockney takes us into the process of creating digital art as his work develops before our eyes. This man's ingenuity completely validates iPad art.

David Hockney actually looking at my iPad art , has validated me. I'm still recovering.

Thank you darling daughter for doing this for me. It was a very wonderful gift.

We reap what we sow.

We are in the midst of a scorching heatwave. It is pretty difficult to function outside at all. Between my blossoming phlebitis, and the fibromyalgia, I'm having a bit of a struggle. The left ankle is starting to terrorize me by swelling, itching, aching and bubbling. This is dangerous stuff that can quite literally ruin my summer. So, off I went yesterday to the after hours clinic for an aggressive antibiotic to fight ulcer infection. I hope it works. We did start it early so maybe we can head this off at the pass. The other irony is that this always happens when my doctor or I are on vacation. He saw me before he left and all was well. It's the heat and humidity that brought this on. Even though I'm indoors in the AC the pressure still affects my legs. It's a hereditary curse I can't escape.

Speaking of what we can't escape, I recently was told that Alfie Pinsky's widow, Nicole Durand, died alone at the farm and wasn't found for a few days. I find that very sad even though I realize she was a bit of a misanthrope in later years. That farm was my home for ten years. I helped design and build the house. The chicken coop was converted into my sculpture studio, and the stable was Alfie's painting studio. A lifetime of sculpture production was stored and deteriorated in the barn. The house was filled with Quebec antiques that I purchased at farm auctions and refinished myself. When I left Alfie, I walked away and left everything behind. It all became hers when he married Nicole.

Alfie partnered with Gooderige Roberts to buy the farm and that farm has historic meaning because Gooderidge painted so many landscapes there. Gooderidge and Joan were very close and like family really. He started to breakdown there and his decline was visible in his paintings. At the end of his illness, Gooderidge was hospitalized and Joan came less often. During that terrible time, I used to babysit Tim so Joan could focus solely on her husband's needs. Gooderidge was suffering from anxiety and depression and wouldn't let Joan out of his sight. Timmy was an additional target for his anxiety so when I had Tim, Joan could focus on allaying Gooderich's fears. So many memories and many are so sad.

I wish I could say that Alfie rose to the crisis with understanding and compassion, but sadly it wasn't so. He began to express resentment about the extra maintenance work he was doing (grass cutting and a few repairs) to help Joan. He also would criticize Joan for the psychiatric care Gooderidge was getting (shock therapy)even though there were no other options being recommended at that time. With each shock treatment, Gooderidge's memory would worsen. Alfie undertook a series of interviews for the National Gallery's planned retrospective of Gooderidge Roberts work. He was so worried that Gooderidge would forget everything, he became aggressive in his questioning and it frustrated Gooderidge upsetting him even more. Joan was angry with Alfie and the foundation was laid for a rift in their friendship. The retrospective exhibition was great, the catalog wonderful, but the trust in the friendship was gone.

It was 1969 by that time, and I separated from Alfie. I felt so guilty about leaving such a "good" man that I left everything behind. He'd often told me that the most interesting thing about me was my art. I was discouraged from having children, from returning to university for a Masters Degree, from taking a year off to just live life etc. He had my best interests at heart after all? He wanted me to excel as a sculptor and show, show, show. I was encouraged to apply for a Canada Council Grant for a big show, but when I won it in 68, Alfie was mean and vindictive. After that solo show at Sir George Williams University (now Concordia)in the midst of a student occupation and race riot, I lost it and left the studio, the marriage and his grand design. There were several sub plots of course, but for the purpose of this entry, I'll stick to the main story.

Alfie met Nicole a year later. She was Joan Robert's colleague and she rented my cottage for the summer when I went to New York. Joan introduced them and a hot affair ensued in my cottage and at the farm I had so recently vacated. She was installed as a permanent fixture a few months later much to Joan's chagrin. Suddenly, Nicole was in charge of domestic life at the farm and Alfie.

Goodridge died in 1972 and Joan was spending less time at the farm as she took Tim and Glyn to her home territory at Georgian Bay. To make a long story short Alfie and Nicole developed a torturous relationship involving too much booze and weed. Joan was not welcomed when she went to the farm. Tim grew up to take care of things for his mother and Alfie and Tim clashed on numerous occasions. When Alfie began to threaten Tim with a shot gun it became clear that separate houses notwithstanding, the Roberts and Pinsky households could no longer coexist. Throughout, Nicole was egging Alfie on with her paranoia and Joan became fearful for her family's safety. When they were barred from walking past the Pinsky house to visit Gooderidge's final resting place under the much painted "Black Cherry Tree", Joan sold her half of the farm to Alfie, and Nicole got it all.

Nicole and Alfie spent the last ten years alone together on a farm, once built on love and friendship, that they jointly turned into an isolated angry place. He died first uncelebrated and silently to be followed recently by his widow Nicole. It was an end of their own making. Only Gooderidge is a positive memory there, through his many wonderful paintings, and his ashes under the "Black Cherry Tree".

As for me, I do wonder about Alfie's art collection. Two paintings belonged to me because they were given to me - a small water colour by Gooderidge, and a black and white by drawing by Phillip Surrey. I don't suppose I'll ever see them again. My sculptures are probably totally deteriorated by now. In the end, Alfie didn't actually care for that part of me he claimed to have valued the most.

And Joan, she is still a vibrant and interesting octogenarian, who published her memoirs recently about her life with Gooderidge Roberts. She still travels to Georgian Bay every summer and visits me at my cottage too. Our friendship and mutual respect has lasted throughout this long saga, and we remain close to this day. I believe this is called good Karma.

Dinah Update

Dinah has been with us four days and some hours. The settling is going very smoothly. I took her for he first Vet check up. She had been checked and given her shots by the ARK vet, but I wanted something more thorough. Well she is free of serious symptoms, her heart is sound and her respiratory system is good. She has a few kitten problems like Conjunctivitis in both eyes and worms.Both have been addressed and treatment continues at home for two weeks. She is underweight for her age but we are on the way to fixing that. Next visit she'll have her Rabies and leukemia shots. She had a lot to say in the carrier to and from the clinic, none of it good.

Willy has made a decision to accept her, and tries to engage her in play. She is a little nervous about this change in events but is intrigued enough now to be seduced. Then chasing ensues and Willy flops on the floor to reassure her. It's amazing how quickly he accepted her. He was very distressed when she went in the carrier, and very happy when she came home. He sniffed her all over after the vet visit and tried to wash her. She was not willing to be washed.

Tonight Willy thought he had hidden himself in a cardboard carton. Dinah wasn't fooled for long. It is going to be a very busy time here and very much fun. Dinah is such a cute baby and Willy is a baby at heart.

I've been researching condominiums of late to study my options because I may need to sell my beautiful house sooner than later. It depends on my finances. My pension is not keeping pace with the cost of living, and my US pension is now worth less because the US dollar is so low. The cost of upkeep is increasing as I can do less work myself.

The condo route may not resolve these issues because condo fees can be high. The maintenance is taken care of by the condo corp but I was shocked at how high the taxes are. That surprised me because my taxes on this huge property and house are really reasonable. It's still early days, and more research needs to be done.

I did see one condo last Sunday, that I really liked and could see myself living there. Lots of light, large rooms, nice layout and a gorgeous patio-garden area.
I could envision a studio and my cats looking out all windows and patio doors. I saw another that I didn't like which was bigger with a basement but lacked charm. The deck was exposed to the passing traffic on the Rotary Trail. The taxes on that property were extreme. I did get a sense of what is out there and the leaving here won't be as traumatic as I fear.

I came home and walked around my garden, looking at all that I had created and felt so sad. I really adore living here. But at times I feel so adrift in all this beauty and space with nobody to share it with. I'm no longer entertaining much and few guests come for prolonged visits. The people I love are rarely here and in Julie's case will never be here again. So perhaps the time is approaching for a fresh start.
At the very least, the time has come to be mindful of my options.

Whatever I choose to do, there are two little buddies who will be included in my decision. Pets must always be allowed.

Introducing Dinah.

Dinah has joined the family. She arrived last Friday to my great surprise. I went into Pet Value to buy some Koi food. As I came in, the sales woman was cleaning the adoption cage and holding this little fluffy bundle on her shoulder. The bundle looked at me and I looked at it and it was love at first sight. She was called Mary Pickford on the adoption papers, a very unsuitable name. Mary Pickford was petite and this kitten though small, will not be petite. She's a Maine Coon cross and will grow into a big cat.

She and her siblings were rescued by ARKK. were vet checked and had there shots before putting them up for adoption. I brought her home and introduced her to Willy who was not thrilled to see her. He is quite grumpy with me but he's a good-natured boy and he will be won over in time. I never expected to adopt a kitten. They are a hand full, and require a lot more care than a cat. I always felt that the older animals needed to be adopted more, and I believed that at my age, a kitten could outlive me. Willy and I have a tight relationship and didn't need a stranger butting in. All this good sense evaporated when I saw Dinah. Yes that's her new name Dinah.

She is home, purring on my chest as I write this. She likes to lie under my chin on my bust while I work on my laptop. Willy still has me all to himself in bed all night and he gets away from Dinah during the day when he goes out. Yesterday he would have nothing to do with Dinah, but today he was a bit intrigued and let her sniff him and watched her play with the toys he lost interest in long ago. It will work out once he figures how to maintain dominance and realizes he's still number one with me.

It will be a new adventure as she grows up and it will be fun.

Enjoying my own company.

It's been some time since my last post because it's summer and the garden beckons. As the weather improved, I moved my centre outside. Aside from the normal garden stuff, I've also been painting, adding yet another art work to my growing stockpile of useless stuff to leave for Maya to sort out later. If some paintings would sell, I'd feel better because at least I would be increasing my income. Instead this ever growing inventory is costing me money, because paint, brushes and boards cost money. Framing to show is a costly process and renting a gallery costs too. Why do we do it?
Sculpture is worse and the rewards even less. Fewer people buy sculpture than paintings. There must be attics, basements, closets and sheds, all over our fair land, that are filled with people's unsold art. It's a subject worthy of a documentary.

This has been Canada Day long weekend and I had absolutely no plans made with anyone. At first I felt sad at the prospect of a long holiday weekend with nowhere to go and no one to see. Some friends went camping, others went to Ottawa for the July 1 party, or had a BBQ with friends. I, on the other hand, stayed home and worked in my garden. Poor me - nobody likes me - everyone forgot me etc. Hey just a minute, I never called anyone, or had them over for a BBQ, or went to the fireworks at Little Lake. In fact I realized I enjoyed the quiet and chose to stay right where I was.

Three glorious days of puttering around, pruning, weeding, pond watching outside with my jolly little Willy by my side. Yesterday I painted another landscape of the garden. Today I read and snoozed in my Zero Gravity chair. I enjoyed a cool one, watched the Koi's antics and fell asleep with the sound of the water soothing me. Willy slept on, beside, and under my recliner until we were interrupted when Michael came to haul away a couple of huge sections from a recently felled maple tree.

He is a wood worker and has visions of beautiful creations from my maple. He'll take them home cut and shape them into manageable pieces, and seal them for drying. It's wonderful to see none of my storm damaged tree being wasted. The rest is drying for fireplace use. I use every bit of my wood. I've lived here for 16 years and have never bought winter wood yet and I burn my fireplace every evening all winter long. It's a gift.

Another development in my chipmunk story. For several weeks Munkey lived in my den. He ate the food I left out for him and settled in quite comfortably. Willy left him alone because he went outside during the day and was shut out of the room at night. My rapidly domesticating chipmunk was enjoying the best that I had to offer, drinking water, sunflower and other seeds, peanuts and raw almonds. I quickly discovered that he had a special fondness for the almonds. If I was sitting here reading or watching TV, Munkey would emerge and sit right in front of me, eating, grooming and chittering. I left the door to the outside open all day and he could exit whenever he chose. For nearly six weeks he didn't choose to leave.

It was a bit worrisome because I will be gone to the cottage for nearly a month in August and leaving a chipmunk in my house just is not an option. I was considering the need to call pest control for a humane removal. Maya came last weekend. We had a garage sale and went to a baby shower. Munkey showed himself to Maya but was uneasy with another person talking, laughing loudly etc. She left for London on Sunday evening and Munkey left too. He took the door because all the commotion was just too much even for a sociable chipmunk. It's very quiet without him. No more spontaneous chirping and darting about. But he will sure have some interesting tales to tell to his folks in the nest.

Finally, a new cat has been added to my outdoor cat diner. A poor little long-haired Russian Blue with intense and feral eyes is feeding here. Willy used to holler with rage at this cat, until he found himself outside staring her in the eye. Both cats decided to call a truce and go their separate ways. So Smoke dines undisturbed when I feed Willy inside. All is peaceful and Smoke is filling out a bit. Her fur is terribly matted, but she is way too timid for me to even consider grooming her.
Freddy has moved on and Buddy aka Timbit stays indoors most of the time now. So Smoke doesn't have to fight over food these days. Feral cats get a bad rap. They are generally harmless and totally shy. Most are almost never seen. I worry about them because they lead such a harsh existence, so anything I can do to make their lives a little less difficult, I consider a mitzva.

I'm glad that I enjoy my own company, because it's clear now that I'll be on my own till the end. Trent declined Maya's application for the PhD program and she won't be coming home in any foreseeable future. It sadly, frees me to make decisions about my life without her in the equation. She and Glenn will go wherever suits them and since there are no grandchildren in my foreseeable future, I must consider downsizing. It breaks my heart to leave this house, but if I wait too long it will be much more difficult. Things will be as they must be. Aging is inevitable and I've never been one not to face reality.

Thoughts on a "gender neutral" discussion.

It's back in the news and provoking all kinds of speculation, debate and dialogue. The experiment: the parents who have decided to keep the gender of their new child a secret for as long as possible may be doing that child a serious disservice. To allow shim* to develop an identity without gender bias being imposed on shim. (*"Shim" I have made a contraction from she and him in order not to refer to a child as it). Gender neutrality can also create new grammatical issues as a byproduct.

Babies begin life gender neutral and I always believed gender became less neutral as children grow. There isn't a mammalian species anywhere that is without gender traits. Since the purpose of a species is to reproduce, it is essential that they have the recognition and stimulation traits necessary to accomplish that. A tom cat is very different from a queen yet they are both cats sharing similar feline behaviour. Even when they are neutered they still retain some gender differences. A stallion is a different horse from a mare but they both share the traits of a horse. These differences are neither good nor bad. They just are.

Only when social class, economics and rewards enter the picture as with us humans, does gender become more desirable or less desirable. We wouldn't even be having this conversation if gender were truly neutral. But, if in a society, a woman is worth less than a man it becomes necessary to fight for a gender advantage. The search for gender neutrality is a search for social and economic parity. It can't work, because the biological imperative to reproduce is too strong. Instead of searching for neutrality, which I believe is a sad diminution of the sexuality of our species, we should be stamping out the stigmas that devalue girls and women.

A New Day

It's a new day and two days away from the Summer Equinox. The days remain light until after nine P.M. and I just love it. Willy and I have our late afternoon rest down by the pond around 7:00 and we listen to the evening birdsong. My Koi are in mating mode, with frenzied chasing around the pond. I get exhausted just watching. I don't know where the female will get the energy to lay her eggs after all this. Fortunately it will settle down in a couple of days. If more young survive, I'll have to give them away because we have reached capacity for the size of the pond. I do love watching those fish in their own world, living their underwater lives. The pond is my restful destination when I'm outside.

It seems so sad to me that I can't share this place with my family. They live too far away to drop in and Glenn's work schedule prevents weekend visits. I have created an oasis of beauty and calm for me and my cat. The same applies to the cottage. The kids don't use it either due to a lack of vacation time, but more because I don't believe Glenn really likes it there. All these years I've been keeping it up and paying to maintain a place to share with Maya, and she can't use it.

It seems to me, that nothing I've made and loved will be passed on to family. I might just as well cash it out, travel and move into a condo. Families live separate lives in distant locations now. The concept if heritage and roots cannot be sustained by the older generation alone so society suffers. Dislocated families create communities with little permanence. Recent studies have shown that the highest level of contentment is reached by people who have a deep sense of belonging. It seems we thrive within the bonds of neighbours, friends and families. We need a sense of commitment to others within a community where we have a family history and can make a contribution.

I'm not surprised but I'm glad studies have been done to confirm what we know instinctively. That is why First Nations have survived no matter how poor their reserve lands are. Their members go away, knowing they can always come home. No matter what happens outside the community, first peoples know the community will welcome them home. That's more than most non-natives can say. Globalization has been terribly damaging to the mental health of workers world wide. Communities of people get torn apart and sent elsewhere while the elderly are left behind to preserve obsolete traditions and history of homelands with no future.

So if I cash out my assets and move into a seniors' warehouse, the gardens, structures and memories I made here, pass into the hands of strangers who don't care about what went before. It is a very disheartening prospect for me.

Everything is conspiring to increase my discomfort. Major repairs to cottage, maintenance and repairs to the house, storm damage to the trees, car needs some work and new tires are recommended and no decent student applications for the room rental are stressing me greatly. Then Maya hears that she was not accepted into the PhD program at Trent with a terse and very arrogant email. They forgot to notify her and she had to request the information with only two weeks left to apply elsewhere. No apology and no courtesy was offered. This, from the wife of a good colleague
of mine. Disgraceful!

So it must be me right? That's how I make myself crazy - it's not me. I didn't bring this about. I'm not responsible for life's difficulties. I am responsible if I don't recognize the realities, accept them and take some remedial action. I do know this, however, like with all things this too shall pass.

Toxic energy.

Sat.May 28, 2011 - 2:30 am

I'm in bed at J's, feeling sick to my stomach from the stress residue of a showdown with G. Don't ask how we got into it again, we just did. Things were going along fine, too fine. G was being super nice to me and I to him. It was weird. Usually, he is more indifferent and not the least concerned about my welfare.

After dinner we watched a really great movie called "The Last Station" about Tolstoy's last year of life. We began to discuss why a film that good didn't make it into wider distribution and before we knew it, we were fighting. He was being an expert in a field he knows nothing about, and blowing off my views with his usual condescending and over-bearing arguments. The film industry is my field, my area of expertise and I wasn't accorded an iota of respect. This is an age old pattern between us. He was giving me his best "now see here Missy" attitude when I exploded. I should have shut up and walked away, as I have on countless occasions before. But, I'm an idiot and didn't. He started that sneering approach that is so maddening, I blew up and left the room.

On further reflection, I decided to come back downstairs, apologize and try to shed some light on why we push each others buttons. I felt that reaching an emotional detente was necessary for J and I to resume some comfort in our relationship. I certainly could not leave things as they were.

Big mistake- I laid my cards on the table and tried to convey the emotional damage this behavior has done over the years. I've been damaged, J has, and so has G if he could admit it to himself. G saw my apology as a sign of weakness, swooped in and stuck his talons in all my sore spots. J tried to inject some balance and fairness into the process, to no avail. He gets a crazed look, then fights realy dirty and goes for the jugular. J was begging him to stop and it was as though she wasn't even in the room. He was wound up and getting off on his anger.

Here are some toxic tidbits he tossed out:

a. I'm a drama queen with an inflated sense of my own importance.

b. I inserted myself into the family and really was not as important to Julie's recovery, as I like to think. Meanwhile, Julie kept saying that it was very important to her, that I was there.

c. That I try to take credit for things, and give advice when it was none of my business.

(I wanted to remind him of the number of times he asked me to come because I had such a positive effect on J, or asked me what he should do because she seemed indifferent to living, etc.) but I didn't. I could have reminded him that it was he who didn't take his turns on the hospital watch. But I did not. I tried to remind him of the good he had done over the years that I really admired, but he was too into his own toxic soup to take note.

d. He also reiterated how much he disliked me and that he only accepted my presence because of J. This was deeply personal and bitingly painful for me and J, yet all the while he accused me of turning an intellectual discussion into an emotional issue.

e. I was reduced to a shadow of myself and lost all semblance of rational dignity. J's feelings and protestations were completely ignored and I knew that he was digging a deep hole we could never climb out of.

Sun. May 29, 2010, 11:30

NEXT MORNING. I'm dreading going downstairs. I've been reviewing my role in the event o last night and realize that this has not been my finest hour. I should have walked away. G does not like to be challenged and I did so at the deepest level - feelings.

My opening remarks were entirely based on my feelings. They were an appeal to move past argument into understanding. When I came back into the room to apologize, I said, "all I ever wanted from you was respect and friendship. All I ever got was rejection and misunderstanding and I just need to know why? What can we do to change this"?The response was the vitriol I have described. When I told him of my deep respect for his commitment to J's care. His response was that I never told him that before. I suggested, that perhaps I was afraid because I didn't know how he would react. He turned it around on me by saying that I really couldn't acknowledge his role because that would diminish my self importance. These are irreparable, lunatic statements. Where can one go from there? His remarks were coming from a deep well of resentment and loathing that go way back. My contribution to all this has not been my finest hour either. How could I be so deluded? Going back into the same discussion, with the same person, using the same tactics and expecting a different outcome has to be a clear example of my own insanity.

I was shaking so badly I had to leave the room. J., bless her, was repeating that G wasn't being fair and that he was distorting my words completely. My deepest regret, is that this turned out to be anything but a lovely visit with J. I won't be coming back any time soon. We all know this and I now need to exit as calmly as possible. If anything resonated most strongly,it was that I am not family and have no business inserting myself into family matters; that memory is selective and my responses to his appeals for help, are now viewed as my self aggrandizement. He did not ever need me nor did I ever help the situation, in spite of J's protests to the contrary. This was a no win situation for me, and very confusing and hurtful for J. I was even accused of talking about my stroke not to share my experience, but to make him feel guilty for not being being there.

It was jaw-droppingly crazy and very vicious. There's nothing left for me, but to leave quietly and quickly.

I slipped out while they were still in bed and had my coffee and breakfast at the MacDonald's where I took Maya when she was little. I stopped for some groceries at the Metro store in York Mills Plaza and drove home carefully and calmly. I didn't want to risk an accident on the road. I didn't say good bye to J. and that made me sad. It had to be this way, a quick, non-confrontational exit to save everyone's face.

Home again in my garden, with my cat happy to see me and peace embracing me. A quiet supper in front of the TV and a nap.

PS
I got a call from J around 7:00 PM. She was calling to express her deep regret about what had happened. She was not as out of it as I thought, and remembered all too vividly the cruel scene that played out in front of her. I told her how sorry I was but I couldn't expose myself to that again. She said she understood and that no one should be exposed to that kind of attack. She kept saying it was so unfair and that I had her full support. I think she was referring to the peripheral damage as well as the things her husband had said to me. His behavior effects not only me but
our friendship as well. I promised we would keep in touch by phone and said I loved her and we hung up. I'm very glad she made that call, but very sad for her situation. It's not just her wheel chair that's confining her. She's confined by her caregiver who controls her. It seems he still can't confine her mind.


* NOTE: added July 4, 2011

It's sad to report but the events I have described had such a negative effect on me that some of the Fibromyalgia symptoms have returned. Within a week I began experiencing the fatigue and joint pain. At first I believed I had overdone it in the garden but as time has passed, it's clear what this is. It's now evident that the events I've described had a traumatic effect on me. Now I must refocus on the future and try to erase the pain from my mind in order to recover. I can no longer endure any form of abuse without paying with my health.

Hold the Botox and send in the ducks.

I'm catching my breath today after a a few amazingly beautiful days when I was busy outdoors. Yes, after a protracted, cold and dreary spring, the sunny weather arrived last weekend and continued to be nice all week. Just as all the spring blooms popped out of the ground at once, in celebration, I popped out of my house. It felt like being released from jail. I was free to roam and plant things, monitor my Koi activity in the pond, and lunch al fresco on my deck. I was so pleased to see those small pale green leaves misting the trees, that I decided to do some landscape painting before the foliage burst into deep summer greens. It happens so quickly that I only had a window of a few days. With nothing to distract me, I packed up my easel, paint bag and board to capture what I could.

Last Monday I headed out to Donwood because the United Church there is perched on a hill that affords a beautiful view over the rolling pastures to the drumlins beyond. I set up my easel and began to paint. I was pretty rusty after nearly a year of being idle. I struggled with the medium, acrylic paints, which dry very fast. I'm used to oils, which are slow drying, so I was handling the acrylics like oil paints and it was so frustrating. I felt like I was at war with my board. Eventually I simmered down and achieved something. I was not happy with the painting, but the location and solitude were bliss. Several hours later I headed home, tired and happy.

The following day I tackled the same painting to correct some errors that would drive me crazy if left unresolved. The end result was much better and I came to understand what I needed to do with that troublesome medium. I would have to approach the task in a whole different way.

The next time I went out with my gear, I chose a spot near here on the east bank of the Otonabee River. I often walk to this small bay and wetland because it is so wild. Looking through the trees to the far shore was a delight for the eyes. The sky and the pale green trees on the far shore, reflected in the water, gleamed like pale stained glass through the dark tree trunks and undergrowth around me. I painted fast with broad swaths of under-colour which I then layered over in more detailed sections. This approach worked with the quick drying time instead of against it. Problem solved. This left me free to pay more attention to the actual scene before me and the composition of the painting. The resulting painting is much more successful.

As I worked, a woman walked by and said "are you painting a picture?" "Yes " I replied. She drew nearer and enthused, "Oh that's so beautiful". Thank you, says I. "You're an artist then". She continued on her way so very happy to have met an artist. I was on the verge of saying "I'm just a retired old woman who likes to paint". I'm glad I was able to restrain my self-deprecation and let her walk away happy.

As a reward, my HP sent me a family of Mallards - three drakes and a mama duck, who in a cacophony of quacking, was moving her brood of ten tiny ducklings off the nest and into the water for the first time. As the noisy little troop proceeded, the three drakes formed a protective circle around them. The last little duckling stumbled into the water and joined the line of precision swimmers as they moved away from shore with the drakes taking up their guard positions as out swimmers. Wonderful, wonderful!

All good things come to those who wait. Why is patience so difficult to learn when it is so rewarding? It is one of the greatest gifts of old age. I can experience so much more with so much less energy and drama expended. Patience and the value of solitude make aging really worthwhile.

Hold the Botox and send in the ducks.

Ill winds and new winds.

So much time has passed since I last posted that I feel a sea change has taken place. How do I catch up? I can't I guess so we'll look back from today's vantage point.

On the 15th of March I celebrated yet another birthday with a few of my nearest and dearest friends. Maya and Glenn were unable to come so only about 18 friends came to my Pot Luck party. I cooked for about three days and provided the bulk of the main meal, augmented by salad, side dishes and desserts from friends. A really good time was had by all and I went to bed at three AM exhausted but happy. Why do I celebrate turning 71? Because I'm so happy to be alive.

Market Hall Performance Centre officially opened with a posh affair and we who have been working on this for several years were moved to tears by the beauty of our new "old" theatre. The architects have so thoroughly respected the historic features of the old market building while creating a thoroughly modern theatre space. Beautiful, beautiful! The fund-raising work is not done yet, but now people can see what they are donating for.

Maya was unable to come home for the Passover Seder, so I postponed it till Easter Sunday and we had an Eastover Seder instead. She was able to come for the Easter long weekend and we were joined by friends to celebrate that most traditional and historic meal together. Christians forget (or never were taught) that the Passover Seder is the Last Supper. All the symbolic foods the Seder plate today are exactly as they would have been for Jesus at the Last Supper. As a semi-Christian, I'm always deeply moved by that. It adds so much depth to my spiritual observance to be able to partake in both faiths and I feel truly fortunate. I'm sorry Glenn was unable to get the long weekend off because he missed being part of this most important tradition. I hope Maya carries it on when I am gone. The Seder symbolically defines our family Judeo/Christian values.

My student boarder Kathleen has moved out and on in her new life, taking up an internship at the Manitoba Art Gallery. She was a wonderful housemate and I'm missing her daily. We had a very warm and amicable relationship. Willy misses her too. She was so sweet with him and he adored her. Now he's stuck with boring old me. Fortunately, the weather has become more spring than winter and he can go out. He can enjoy many cat activities in the garden that distract and wear him out. We wish Kathleen well and hope for her success in the museum world.

And for all you jaded anti-monarchists and historic cynics out there - yes, I was up at three a.m. to watch William and Kate get married. It's a great spectacle, with pageantry, glitz, history, continuity and HORSES. Lots of great horses. Didn't you know? I love horses. It runs in the Hogenkamp blood. My father was a military horseman, so I can imagine him in uniform, as out rider to a royal landau. Only my father was in the Dutch army - small detail. While everyone else was oohing and aahing over the wedding dress, Maya and I were on the phone together extolling the tributes of the great horses. The dress was not too shabby either. Yes, it cost a fortune - enough to feed an African village for a year - it was worth it, to give the people a sense of pride, hope and the reassurance that only tradition is capable of providing. England and the remaining Commonwealth can still well afford to feed that African village if only the political will was there.

Which brings me to our recent general election. The political will to feed African villages or Innuit and First Nation villages, for that matter, may not be there for quite some time now. Canadians, in their infinite wisdom, have reelected the Harper Conservatives to another five years with a majority this time. I am no fan of Conservative government-particularly this one. I have serious concerns about our democratic institutions like free speech, freedom of assembly,
human rights and womens' abortion rights. They have already demonstrated their disdain for these rights as a minority government. I'm also worried about the erosion of civility and accountability, and Arts, Culture and the CBC will be entering the dark ages. Social democrats, liberals and trade unionists are in for a bumpy ride. Heaven, give us strength and give the new official opposition the NDP the wit and will to push back when it's needed.

So all my like-minded friends, lets relax, and deep breathe. Canada is resilient and so are we.

The sun will come out tomorrow.

My mother and Maya meet at Museum London

Exhibit dazzles with its fresh smell, bright sheen | James Reaney | Columnists | Entertainment | London Free Press

It’s true — attitudes toward cleanliness have changed over the decades and so have the household appliances used in its pursuit

Maybe it’s the headless woman in the Hoover vacuum cleaner advertisement.

Maybe it’s the kitchenware on loan from London luminary Weezi and her mom.

Maybe it’s the clock that kept time for the Curnoe family over the decades.

Maybe it’s the displays of products like Laraxo — a hand cleaner — and Sinko. You don’t need help in IDing Sinko, do you?

Likely, it’s all of the above and everything else about the Museum London exhibition Spic and Span: A Recent History of Being Clean that makes it clean up so sweetly. The exhibition continues until June 12.

“By the turn of the 20th century, an extraordinary idea had taken hold across North America,” says the musem’s regional-history curator, Maya Hirschman, “that frequent bathing, even a daily bath, was good for your health. Spic and Span looks at how product design and savvy marketing caught up to this cultural change and transformed our society from one of backyard privies to multiple-bathroom homes filled with products promising ‘the brightest white.’ ”

Hirschman’s exhibition considers factors that marked a dramatic increase in the idea that cleaning is “women’s work.” It takes us from a big bathtub c. 1860 to a kitchen scene from the 1950s.

It doesn’t hurt that Hirschman has made the exhibition a joyful labour of love. She insisted on the use of the “celery-leaf” green tone that’s the perfect shade for the exhibition.

She has even enlisted an iconic image of her grandmother, Florence Hogenkamp, as Florence in the Kitchen. “She would do it — she was a nurse,” Hirschman says of the woman seen at the controls of a gleaming suburban Canadian kitchen in 1952.

To go with such splendid Canadiana, she’s also turned up some unintentionally hilarious relics from the gender-role wars. Among those would be that Hoover advertisement with the headless housewife. “Her head’s cut off,” Hirschman tells a visitor, who has been admiring it all on a stroll through Spic and Span. The image of the woman in the advertisement shows only what limbs she needs to manoeuvre that godlike Hoover. “The head is unimportant,” Hirschman says.

Like any fine exhibition, Spic and Span has room for new wonders. These arrived after Weezi, a.k.a Lisa Gaverluk, and her mom visited the exhibition and marvelled at the kitchen display.

“That’s so cool,” said one or the other — or both. Voila. More retro, classy items: enamel ware, small appliances and mixing bowls on loan for the kitchen.

By happy chance, the clock in that kitchen scene has an intimate connection with London and Canadian cultural history. It was a 1935 wedding gift. The clock was in the Curnoe family home in Old South London until it finally stopped in 1993. Glen Curnoe donated it to the museum.

More? Yes there is much more to Spic and Span.

What’s the most amazing attraction of the 60 on exhibit?

Maybe it’s two domestic-themed paintings by ace London artist Bernie Vincent.

Maybe it’s the . . . ah, you better get over there yourself and then tell me.

IF YOU GO

What: Spic and Span: A Recent History of Being Clean, a Museum London exhibition. On Sunday, 1 p.m., Dr. Shelley McKellar talks on Cholera and the Gospel of Sanitation: Disease and Public Health in Nineteenth-Century London, Ontario as part of museum’s free Sundays at One series.

When: Continues until June 12. Closed Mondays. Noon to 5 p.m., other days, except Thursdays, noon to 9 p.m.

Where: Museum London, 421 Ridout St. N.

Details: Admission by donation. Visit museumlondon.ca or call 519-661-0333.

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Spring is in the Air - Time to take stock.

Today marked the first official day of spring and the birds seem to agree. The weather was very acceptable, so I went to check my fish. They were active and aware to my delight. I can never get used to the idea that they live throughout the five cold months without a bit of food, completely oblivious to the freezing temperatures. They are lethargic but very much alive. What a joy to see them well. The most dangerous time for them is between now and when it warms up. I can't start to feed them until the temp is consistently over 55* F. This is when we find out how much winter has exhausted them.

The birds are coming back. Their song is animating the air. Robins, starlings, red-winged blackbirds, grackles, crows and waterfowl are returning. The mourning doves are cooing and courting, the cardinal pair are active while he sings so beautifully and the geese are flying overhead. Excitement is everywhere.

I celebrated my actual birthday on the 15th. It was a nice day, relaxing and reflective. My friend David H. had invited me to speak for his first AA anniversary. I brought him to his first meeting a year ago. I prayed for his success one day at a time, and was like a proud parent when he made it to this important date. It was an honour to speak for him at this important time.

I had not spoken at a meeting in a long while so it was important for me as well. Thirty-six years ago on February 19, I attended my first meeting and had my last drink. Telling my story again was an opportunity to take my own inventory. In revisiting my drunkalogue, I realized that I have now lived longer as a sober person than as a drunk. I drank for 21 years and ended up in a muddled mess. I've had 36 years to repair the damage and straighten out the mess. It's been a rough road at times with disappointments, deaths, despair and confusion. Life can be a bitch sometimes and learning to deal with it head on and sober, is not easy. But life is also so beautiful - full of joy, friendships, love, birth and accomplishment. The beauty of having lived it all sober for 36 years is that you remember and you grow from it all. In AA we tell newcomers that if they don't pick up a drink, one day at a time, it gets better. That is not precisely true. Life is life, good, bad and indifferent. It is what it is and doesn't get better. In sobriety we get better. We are able to cope better, make wise decisions, accept responsibility and change the things we can. Sobriety is a great gift for an alcoholic, and we are helped each step of the way by the collective strength of the group, the wise principles of the AA program and by faith in our Higher Power. I have so much to be grateful for and I must always remember that if I'm grateful, I can't be resentful. Those two emotions simply cannot coexist in a person.

So I thank David for the gift of friendship and his invitation to speak on his special day. I thank the fellowship of AA for being there for me and David and I thank my HP for allowing me to see another spring, for my precious sobriety, and for the lives of my fish and the returning birds.
It's a great life and it's my life and I love it - one day at a time.

This old broad can still party.

Yesterday I celebrated my forthcoming Birthday (March 15) with a pot luck dinner party for 20 of my nearest and dearest friends. I t has become a tradition that I have a party. Last year it was the opening of my art exhibition at The Blue Tomato Gallery. I can't pull that off annually, so I returned to a more traditional format of eating good food, drinking good wine and enjoying good talk. It is usually fairly casual. This year was no exception. I spent the two days leading up to Saturday cooking up a storm, with glazed ham, Swedish meatballs, Dutch sauerkraut, potato salad, and several cheeses. My friends added scalloped potatoes, Indian chicken curry with papadums, seafood and several other salads, vegetarian lasagna, breads,Greek yogurt, condiments and four types of cake and a pie.

This was accompanied by wine, beer and Perrier water and closed with coffee and tea. I have been feeding large groups for quite some time, so I have the buffet organization down to a science and with a few friends helping, it ran very smoothly. Judging by the group's animation, the laughter, and the complete silence while everyone was seriously eating, I know they all had a good time. A smaller hard- core of friends remained until after 1:00 AM and all left with doggie bags. Still, leftovers fill my fridge and we won't go hungry for several days.

My friends include artists, musicians, writers, a photographer or two, a web designer, some retired civil servants and an impresario. Add my student lodger, two pre-teens, a ten month old baby and, of course, me and we have a cross generational mix of happy people. Lubricate it all with enough wine, beer and juices to keep the conversation and the laughter flowing.

Once they all left, most of the clean up had happened, and the dish washer was loaded. I washed my wine glasses by hand today and put everything away slowly. Kathleen and I decided to ignore the arrival of Daylight Saving time today, and change the clocks slowly, one at a time throughout the day. I look around the house now and feel blessed with my friends and my life. The lovely flowers they all brought, are filling my rooms with scent and the colours of spring.

Thank you HP for another good year.

Chii Miigwetch, Chief Ralph.

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In deepest sympathy
Posted by claire hogenkamp (friend and colleague) On Tuesday, March 8, 2011

I am so profoundly sad about our loss off this treasured man. Chief Ralph was a sensitive and respectful man. Always the educator, he taught me to be still and listen. I did as he suggested and learned a lot about the people, history and guiding principles of Nawash First Nation. It was a valuable lesson.

I remember, with particular fondness, his unannounced visits to my Toronto office. He dropped in when he came from visiting his mother in a Toronto hospital. Chief Ralph would just arrive with his briefcase (a plastic shopping bag) to sit and rest, or show me some document, and we talked about life, my daughter and his concerns about his his mother. Ever so gently, he would probe for new developments in government thinking that could affect the negotiations. He was always respectful and sensitive to my concerns about confidentiality. He was a true gentleman.

I was fortunate to have had the opportunity to serve with three MNR negotiation teams (Nawash Commercial Fishing Rights) over ten years. That time, being patiently guided by Chief Ralph has been among the high points in my life's journey.

Our world is a better place for Chief Ralph Akiwenzi's time among us.

Claire Hogenkamp

CHIEF Ralph Ernest Akiwenzie

AKIWENZIE, CHIEF Ralph Ernest - Of Cape Croker passed away peacefully with family by his side at 8:20 a.m. on Friday, March 4, 2011, 6 days before his 65th birthday. Cherished brother of Jean of Oshawa, Rhonda of Toronto, Helen of Owen Sound, Donna Lynne of Toronto and step-brother of Orland of Toronto. Beloved nephew of Michael (Marge) Akiwenzie of Sault Ste. Marie, Harold Lamorandiere of Barrie and Ernestine (Lenny) Baldwin of Barrie. He will be sadly missed by nieces and nephews Michael of Curve Lake, Tarah of Toronto, Wilfred of Toronto, twins Lyndon of Prince Edward Island and Leah of Owen Sound, Danielle of Owen Sound, Priscilla Lynne of Toronto, Billie Jo Solomon of Winnipeg, Murrie-Jo Ducharme of Winnipeg, Murray Jr. of Wininipeg and Mickey of Winnipeg, great nieces and nephews Donna Jacobs of Curve Lake, Jenelle of Owen Sound and Michael of Toronto as well as many great nieces and nephews of Winnipeg. He was predeceased by his parents Donna (Lamorandiere) and Ernest Akiwenzie and brothers Carman and Murray. After graduating grade 13 at Wiarton & District High School, Chief Akiwenzie was the first native in Ontario to graduate from the Stratford Teachers College. After teaching in Stratford for 2 years, he returned to Cape Croker and continued to advocate for and teach his culture and language for 17 years, and obtained his Native Language Diploma through Lakehead University. Chief Akiwenzie was a strong community leader serving on Band Council for many years and then as Chief for 22 years. Visitation will be held at Chippewas of Nawash Community Centre, Cape Croker on Sunday March 6, 2011 from 2:00 to 4:00 p.m. and 7:00 to 9:00 p.m. and on Monday, March 7, 2011 from 2:00 to 4:00 p.m. and 7:00 to 9:00 p.m. The mass to celebrate his life will be held at St. Mary's Catholic Church on Tuesday, March 8, 2011 at 11:00 a.m. Interment St. Mary's Catholic Cemetery. Arrangements entrusted to the GEORGE FUNERAL HOME, Wiarton. Donations made to the Maadookii Senior Centre or Nawash Scholarship Fund would be appreciated by the family as expressions of sympathy. Condolences may be sent to the family through www.georgefuneralhome.com 9913294

BILL HENRY

Sun Times staff

The Chippewas of Nawash bid farewell Tuesday to Chief Ralph Akiwenzie, Cape Croker's longest serving elected chief.

St. Mary's Catholic Church and hall were filled with mourners and hundreds more crammed the Cape Croker community hall to watch a live broadcast of the funeral mass which began with a brief sweetgrass ceremony.

Chief Ralph Ernest Akiwenzie died Friday morning of cancer a few days short of his 65th birthday. He was remembered Tuesday for his quiet, determined, exemplary leadership and his 22 years of tireless and selfless work on behalf of the First Nation community.

"We've lost a teacher, a leader, a protector and a friend," Scott Lee, the interim chief and head band councillor said at the church. "It was his commitment to the community that drove him, not praise or power."

Lee highlighted some of Chief Akiwenzie's legacy, especially his role in helping reassert aboriginal fishing and hunting rights. He contributed $5,000 of his own money to the legal defence fund in the Jones-Nadjiwon court decision of 1993 in which Judge David Fairgrieves recognized the Saugeen Ojibway right to fish commercially in their traditional waters surrounding the Bruce Peninsula.

Chief Akiwenzie was also a key negotiator for three subsequent, court-ordered fishing agreements with the province of Ontario which implement those rights.

"He was tireless and instrumental in negotiating three fishing agreements which have begun to bring protection and peace to our waters and the fish," Lee said.

After the funeral mass, hundreds of people lined both sides of the road outside the community hall. They watched as the funeral procession of close to 40 vehicles slowly drove through the community and eventually made its way to the cemetery.

A feast was planned after at the hall, where several Ontario chiefs and others were to speak about Chief Akiwenzie.

Stand on guard for Canadian values.

The radical right in the US is making their democracy dysfunctional and threatening the very rights entrenched in their constitution. Reason and respect are being pummeled daily in media passing themselves off as legitimate. The USA is on the verge of another civil war but this one is psychlogical. The end result will be the same, destruction of institutions and traditions, corruption of unifying, fundamental values. Their precious democracy will be consumed from within and a religious oligarchy will assume control. The enemy to the US lifestyle will not crash the gates because it is already inside. I had hoped Obama would be able to harness the remaining democratic energy to overcome the cynicism, fear and religious fanaticism afoot in the country. But the forces of negativity are well organized and ruthless. They have captured middle America's innate racism and are using it to divide and conquer. There is little we in Canada can do but watch. It's not our country nor our battle.

When it comes to our own country, however, we can work now to prevent these divisive ideas and organizers from making inroads into our system of democracy. We have traditionally been political moderates with our own traditions, system of governance and institutions. We have been influenced by popular US culture, but in the crunch we do things our way.

The biggest danger to our way of life and our sense of fair play exists with the media today. Too few people own too much of the media. They promote their own narrow perspectives by promulgating schism where none exists. One such communications empire is Quebecor-Sun Media. Their basic philosophy is to make the most money with the least journalistic integrity possible. They walk in lock step with big business and the conservative establishment. Just as in the US, this wealthy minority seeks to command by closing down debate and balanced opinion. They too rail against the educated elite (Starbuckers) and the liberal left (silk underwear socialists).

Hence Sun Media purchased community newspapers and instituted an editorial policy that publishes all personal opinion pieces from the centre. Local papers no longer speak with
their communities' voices. They all speak with the same corporate voice espousing values that have little to do with the views in the local population. The letter that follows is my response to a particularly blatant barrage of neo-conservative hectoring. The Peterborough Examiner today bears no resemblance to the paper that was once edited by Robertson Davies and I am writing to remind them of that. It won't help, but at least I felt better. If a few people rouse themselves to respond we can remind Sun Media that some people still respect independent thought.

Peterborough Examiner
Re: The Comment Page
(formerly the editorial page when the local editor was allowed to have an opinion).


Dear Editors:

I must express my profound distaste with the tone of the Comment page and my regret at losing our Peterborough voice. The Peterborough Examiner has had a proud history in Canadian small daily newspaper publication. Over the years, even when I have not agreed with an editorial position, I could rely on a balanced perspective. We are not a homogeneous collection of like-minds in Peterborough. We have broad ranging beliefs and values, but one we commonly share is a belief in fairness and respect. This has been eroding since Sun Media has commandeered local editorial policy.

I almost didn't renew my subscription until you gave us some fine, in depth reporting on our Peterborough Transit System, and our health care delivery. This encouraged me to renew my subscription. Peterborough is my community and I love it. I really respect our citizens' common sense and open hearts and I look to our only daily newspaper to reflect those values. The tone of this recent editorial page doesn't represent me or my neighbours at all.

First Jim Merriam's extremely biased column against unions. A spectacularly one-sided perspective that is insulting to every honest hard-working union member in our community. The recession has seen huge concessions from unions to help save manufacturing industries on the brink. Local union members are active participants and donors in the United Way, Heart and Stroke, Cancer and myriad other fundraising campaigns. They are "us".

Then Michael Den Tandt's insulting and condescending piece about the people who are not conservative Rob Ford fans - he calls them "Starbuck Nation" and "silk underwear socialists". Wouldn't life be easy if people could so easily be categorized into Starbuckers or No Frillers. This is an insidious form of snobbery intended to create division where none exists. Most of the people I know, shop at several stores from The Superstore to No Frills because they go where it's convenient and where there are sales. I also meet my neighbours and friends in places like Starbucks, Tim Horten's and in local businesses such as Natas or Dreams of Beans. We switch around according to inclination and location. In Peterborough we are not so polarized that we won't have a cup of coffee together.

He goes on to lump CBC's Ken Finkleman, Jian Ghomeshi and David Suzuki together (in silk underwear at Starbucks), as emblems of the satanic liberal left. The first two are popular with a younger demographic who are not politically entrenched but David Suzuki is indeed popular with, among others, the liberal left. Sun Media never misses an opportunity to demonize the CBC even when it's not relevant. CBC fans are also "us"

Finally we get Christina Blizzard' oblique piece about union and Liberal support for a very boring and ineffective commercial that bought time on Oscar night. Special Interests work both ways so I won't even glorify this column with further discussion.

They are entitled to their points of view and space in any publication. But not all three, side by side, in my community newspaper at the same time. It's bad editorial policy. Where is the balance and how does this come close to our community values? This is extreme political bias passing itself off as serious discussion. It's brain washing and an insult to the Examiner's readers and to Peterborough's tradition of fair play.

Sincerely,

CH

Wake up animal lovers.

It's March 1. How is this possible when it was February yesterday? Help, where is my life rushing too so fast. I was complaining about the long dark winter in December and now the days are lengthening. In fact, daylight is a full two hours longer now than in December. Can spring be far behind?

Willy is overjoyed to go outside these days. He gets so excited even though he doesn't stay out more than an hour. Each evening, we are visited by a variety of neighbourhood cats as they are gearing up for mating season. There will be yet another crop of kittens to add to the feral cat population. I'm astonished at the number of "in tact" pet cats there are in my area. It baffles me how people just ignore all the information about the dangers to song birds and wildlife from the increasing cat population.

Wake up folks. Your roaming tabby is also a danger to himself and other cats. Feline Immune- deficiency Virus (FIV/Aids) is becoming a serious cat disease that is very infectious, and for which there is no cure. It is a lingering, wasting disorder that is spread through bites and sexual intercourse. Un-neutered Toms fight a lot in mating season and the female in heat gets a double whammy because the Tom bites her to pin her for mating. She then passes the disease to her kittens. If your neutered Fluffy is allowed out even briefly, and gets caught up in a territorial skirmish, there is a strong chance she/he will come home with FIV.

FIV is not dangerous to humans or other animal species, so you and Fido will not get sick. Alas, Fluffy will be symptom free until the immune system begins to break down. Then, like a human Aids sufferer, the poor cat will succumb to all kinds of illnesses. When that happens, and the family feline starts to need veterinary care, the same irresponsible people will likely abandon Fluffy somewhere across town, to die alone, from hunger, thirst and stress.

A cat is not a disposable toy - cute as a kitten, but a challenge as it grows up. Cats suffer from neglect, indifference, superstition, ignorance and worst of all, abuse. Their very independence and self- sufficiency makes cats ready targets for mistreatment. It's assumed that they can cope without human intervention but their coping skills (hunting) cause the damage to birds and wildlife. Cats are damned for their hunting ability while also abandoned to rely on hunting to survive. This so called *cat problem* is really a human problem. We bring them into our lives, but accept no responsibility for them. Of course there are also good cat people, who do the right things for their pets. This is not addressed to them. This is for all the folks who still think its better to let Fluffy lead a "natural" life, and about the people who are cruel in their ignorance.

Spring is coming and Willy is so excited. So are all his neighborhood buddies. It's such a joy to watch him play and sit in the sun. I wish for every cat to have a patch of sun to sit in, and carefree games to play under the watchful eyes of loving humans.