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.