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.