Unions, the people who brought you weekends!

Here is a copy of the letter I wrote to Christy Clark, Peter Fassbinder and my MLA, Linda Reimer:

All right, this is ridiculous.  You and your government have had over a year to reach some sort of labour peace with the teachers and you seem to have no idea how to get past the impasse that you have created.  Teachers have been willing to change their salary demands and have made a number of proposals to solve the problems your government created with regard to class size and composition and you have done nothing.

It appears that public schools will not open as they should on September 2.  Of course, that doesn't concern you, Ms. Clark, since your son will still be able to attend his private school without interruption.  Aren't you ashamed?  If you aren't, you should be.  One of the most important roles of government is to provide services to its citizenry.  In this respect, you have clearly dropped the ball.  If you can't do your jobs, perhaps you should all consider standing aside and letting a more capable group take over.

I am a teacher and a parent.  You have offered to provide me with forty dollars a day to deal with my 12 year old son's needs while you stand helplessly by and let his school remain closed.  I also have a 15 year old son, but you appear to be unconcerned about his educational needs.  You have offered me nothing as a teacher to demonstrate that you value and understand the important work I do in my classroom, my school and my community.  Shame on you all.

*********************
 As you can imagine, I'm feeling very apprehensive and defeated by the lack of progress at the bargaining table.  It feels like this situation will never get solved.  Obviously, something will eventually happen and schools will open again and we will be back in our classrooms, but when and what will that look like?

If you want to observe Labour Day in an appropriate way, perhaps a letter to your MLA might inspire him or her to see what can be done to find a solution to this nightmarish situation.

Win a house! Win a car!

We visited the Pacific National Exhibition on Tuesday.  Lots of people I know "pooh, pooh" the P.N.E. and say, "oh, it's the same thing every year" which is true, and that's it's hokey and tawdry, which is true, but I guess that's why I like it.  It's predictable but it is excellent value for a day with a variety of fun in it.  There are the rides, of course, and now that the lads are older, they're willing to try more of them and get scared or exhilarated or a bit of both.  There are all the games of chance -- both lads tried a couple in the hopes of winning an ipad or a Go Pro or whatever the latest technology is called.  I am sure some people win, but they didn't.  I remember at the Weyburn Fair long ago when I was a girl (talk about hokey and tawdry), my parents played some game of this sort and ended up losing what was then a huge amount of money (probably thirty dollars or something, which at that time was a sizable sum) hoping to win some sort of electrical appliance and walking away with a pink stuffed rabbit (which I still have).

We saw the Super Dogs show (always great -- "there's nothing like a dog, nothing in this world" to misquote Rogers and Hammerstein) and ate food that isn't good for us at all, and went through the barns and saw the baby chicks and pigs and calves and rabbits and goats and bees and all the amazing creatures we exploit.  (No negativity there.)  There was a dairy farmer there describing how cows give birth and how they take the calves away immediately "for safety".  I know he's the expert and everything, but I just don't buy it.  He said the cows and calves aren't emotionally attached to each other at all and it's all for the best.  They feed the calves with their own mother's milk from bottles.  I wanted to hear another perspective on this and so I looked it up on line and found a source I trust (The Manchester Guardian newspaper) which said that although the idea that the calves need to be protected from infection may have some validity, it is also likely that there is an attachment between mother cow and calf, that neither animal is isolated from the other without emotional and social problems and that, once again, the separation is more a matter of money than any animal's well-being.  I remember seeing a you tube video of a herd of dairy cows which had been confined in the barn over the winter.  It was the first day they had been able to get outside in spring.  They clopped out on the cobblestones outside of the barn and made their way across the yard to the green field beyond.  Once they got to the field, they were so excited and happy (I suppose the dairy farmer at the PNE would say I was anthropomorphizing, but it was clear to me that they were happy) that they were kicking up their back feet and running and playing, like dogs or horses or other mammals like us.  My conclusion is that we don't know enough about other animals' emotional states to make the judgement that they don't feel things.  And so I must say, "baloney" to that farmer.

Anyway, there is never enough time to see and do everything that the PNE has to offer.  They have free concerts in the evening (we saw Great Big Sea last year, if you were reading my blog then) and there is a Game of Thrones exhibit (very popular, you have to book a time to see it because there are so many people wanting to -- I don't watch the show, so I wasn't willing to make the effort) and an animation show and of course, the merchandise building (we walked through this year and saw all the accomplished salespeople plying their trade) and street performers and the horse races and there really is literally something for everyone!  There are two and a half more days to enjoy the fun, so check it out!

One ... thing ... after ... another!

Scott McGillivray says that in an ad for his show on Home and Garden Television and so we see it a lot, since Mike is very fond of all the things they feature (except maybe Mike Holmes).  I can hear my mom's voice chiming in, saying to count my blessings and remember how lucky I am to have my health, but there is a little dark cloud over my head this morning.

We will be starting picketing tomorrow, and I will be in front of my school with my picket sign, just like I spent the end of the last school year.  It is really depressing that we could not get a deal over the summer, at least not yet.  Vince Ready is on the case, and if anyone can find a settlement, I guess he's the one (he settled our illegal strike a number of years ago), but just when I think things can't continue in this vein, they do.  Let me say this -- teachers do not want to be on strike!  Anyone who tells you we do is crazy.  In fact, nobody wants to strike.  But it is a working person's only bargaining chip.  "If you can't negotiate with me and can't give me a fair deal, then I won't work."  Teaching is a tough job.  Yes, we "get the summers off" and "yes, we get a good pension", but it is important work and it  is not easy.  Every kid in my class needs something from me, some more than others, and my job, as I see it, is to try to give them what they need.  I want the kids I teach to leave my classroom feeling like they've taken intellectual and creative risks and that they've been successful.  I want them to appreciate each other and the world we live in.  I want to think of things that they can do that will push the envelope and make them and other people think differently about what's going on.  I want them to enjoy themselves and be curious and want to learn things.  I want them to feel excited about coming to school and also safe, both physically and emotionally.  But instead of all of this, I'll be walking back and forth wearing a sign that says I'm locked out.  And all the government thinks I do is generate marks.  (Because that's one of the things they thought was "essential" at the end of last year.)

Some of you know I sent out my "young naturalists" book to a publisher.  I really love it and I think it tells an important story.  (That's me, the author, talking.  I guess not everyone is going to see it that way.  I know these publishing houses take a huge risk in publishing anyone's book, especially an unknown like me.)  Well, it was rejected.  They liked the story, but they didn't like how the two little boys narrate it.  I really thought about it -- should I rewrite it and have just one boy tell it?  But I'm not ready to throw in the towel on Aubrey and Walter just yet.  So out it goes to someone else today!  I hope someone will be able to see that the conversation between the boys is one of the hooks, and not a detriment to the book.

So . . . two bad things.  But bad things come in threes.  Uh oh.  I'd better be looking over my shoulder in the next few days.  And holding tightly to the stair railing when I clump down to the living room in the morning.  And keeping Daisy on the leash.  And eating right and getting lots of sleep!  And not going to the casino (I never go anyway -- to me, it is an extraordinary waste of money, when you could entertain yourself by going to the theatre or a concert or buying a piece of art or donating to some worthy cause.)

Hot Ice and Wondrous Strange Snow

I saw "A Midsummer Night's Dream" last night at Bard on the Beach.  It is such a lovely venue for theatre and the production was full of energy and colour . . . and raunchiness!  The costumes were terrific -- kind of a mashup of farthingales and leather boots and bustles and flowing metallic see-through fabric.  I loved all the fairies (Puck had this great Billy Idol kind of sneer and he wore a bright bustle-skirt but carried it off with real masculine vivacity) and the young lovers were great, especially Hermia (who was very crisp and gave you a sense of a volcanic kind of energy under tight control) and Lysander (who was a nice foil to Hermia -- more languid and fluid).  The big fight scenes were terrific -- really physical and exciting and creative and all over the stage and full of intensity.

I liked the incursions into the audience -- Puck watched the rude mechanicals' rehearsal from a seat in the middle of the second row -- he climbed over people and plunked himself down, causing a little frisson among the audience members -- always fun for everyone, even the audience members who don't get to sit near him.

They achieved the forest with a bunch of different umbrellas, some were mesh that cast nice shadows like a gobbo would, and some opaque -- I didn't love that.  I didn't like the tendency of some of the actors to use modern phrases in throw away lines.  It doesn't fit if you're throwing stuff in, especially when you've already said it in the way you're acting (like when Bottom asked Philostrate what she was doing later -- we already knew they'd made a kind of connection).

I must say I really didn't like Bottom at all.  Scott Bellis played him and he is a very talented actor, but he chose a kind of Austin Powers sort of persona with the clothes and the walk and the accent which I don't think worked at all.  He had a very red nose (I guess because when Thisbe is crying over his dead body,  she says "this cherry nose"? because I don't think there is any suggestion beyond that that Bottom is a drinker) and buck teeth (which, I guess, suggests the donkey and Austin Powers) and mutton chop face whiskers and he was just a buffoon.  There was no soft side at all.  My favourite speech ("I have had a dream - past the wit of man to say what dream it was . . .") was just lost.  It meant nothing, because he really hadn't had an experience of magic and love and romance -- he was too much of an idiot to have an inkling of anything special except himself.  I appreciate that Bottom is egotistical, but I think there is enough dimension in the character that he can have a sense of something greater than himself and the lost note that he can never recover.  Shakespeare always gives us that -- something beyond the obvious.

For Bottom's transformation, they used a metal cage as his donkey head, which I hated.  It reminded me of the movie, "1984", and the cage that has the rat inside and that made it have this horrible menacing quality, which really curtailed the sense of luxurious romance between Titania and Bottom.

And I didn't find the "play within the play" that hilarious.  I liked Quince, Snug and Snout and their roles in the play but I felt like the others didn't catch their characters either as their actual character, nor as their role in the Pyramis and Thisbe play.  There were parts that were funny, but it wasn't the laugh riot I think it should be.

But criticisms aside,  it was great fun to see and also great fun to go with a couple of experienced MSND actors who had lots of great insights into the production (some of which I've used here), so thanks for thinking of me when you were planning your outing!

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain

We've been having a "staycation" for the last little while.  Yesterday the boys and I saw "Twelfth Night" with Boris playing Sir Andrew Aguecheek.  Of course, Boris was terrific as he always is.  I'm thinking of doing the play this year at school if we ever get back to normal.  It is a lovely show and I got lots of great ideas by watching this production, although I don't plan to copy it at all.  That wouldn't be kosher.  They had a beautiful water feature on stage and I was very envious -- how charming it was to hear the water ploshing as the play unfolded.  When Orsino walked in at the beginning, I thought he should be in a silky smoking jacket and be a bit languishing and oily.  He's a bit of a silly fellow, anyway.  And wouldn't it be good if Feste had sort of a standup comedian attitude?  The whole Cesario thing opens up a great "yes-no" kind of romance.  Orsino is attracted to Cesario, but how can that be?  He thinks of himself as a man's man.  He could be really conflicted and in denial.  But Olivia's not in denial -- as soon as she sees Cesario, she knows what she wants.  But Viola is conflicted.  She needs to keep up the disguise, but she's not interested in Olivia.  It would be lots of fun to really play with the idea of identity -- what we think of ourselves and how we see others!

I feel sorry for Malvolio.  He is an irritating guy, but they really humiliate and torture him.  I think we should be a bit ashamed of ourselves for laughing at him earlier in the play.

Today we went on a tour of the Seymour Watershed.  We got to go up and see where our water comes from.  It was fun -- we saw a lovely big bald eagle in a tree by the dam and had a walk in an old growth part of the Seymour forest and explored the river and saw the baby fish at the hatchery.   I am always gratified by the volunteers that run places like the hatchery.  The man who spoke to us knew a lot about salmon and you could see he really cared about them -- certainly I am grateful that there are people like him to take care of salmon and the streams where they grow and spawn and live part of their lives.

Tomorrow, we're going on our traditional "transit trip".  We will take the bus, the skytrain, the seabus and the West Coast Express in a circle tour with a stop at the Lonsdale Quay for lunch.  We've been doing this trip since the boys were tiny and it is always a fun outing.  These are fun and fairly inexpensive things that you can do with your family right here in our own community.  The Watershed tour is absolutely free (sponsored by MetroVancouver) and you get a bus ride up to the dam with a guide and activities along the way.  It's well worth it.  All you have to do is go on the Metro Vancouver website and sign up.

Goldfish dumped by Coquitlam pet owners become invasive species

This is a headline on the CBC this morning.  What is wrong with people?  Firstly, if an animal or a plant aren't already living in an area -- they don't belong there!  You can't just dump it because you don't want it any more!  Secondly, if you think you're setting it free, you're not.  It will likely die a terrible death of starvation or be preyed upon by the animals that do survive where you've dumped it.  But often, like with rabbits and the fish that the story referenced, the poor creature has time to mate and produce offspring that screw everything else up.  Finally, when you buy a pet, you're responsible for it.  Before you bounce off to the pet store (and you shouldn't get a pet from a pet store -- get a pet from the SPCA -- they have all sorts of animals, not just dogs and cats -- or from a reliable breeder), really think about whether you are willing to commit yourself to pet ownership.  Dogs live at least 15 years, cats 20 (if you keep them inside so they are safe and don't prey on songbirds), some birds can live as long as a person!  (Orlando, my brave little cockatiel, lived 30 years!)  So you should think about it as seriously as you think about getting married or buying a house or what career you want.

And don't get an exotic pet.  They are stolen from the wilderness often at the cost of many others who die in the capture or in transit.  A dog is a great pet.  They're smart and loyal and loving and they encourage you to get exercise and they are therapeutic and a good companion.  But you get what you put into it.  You have to make an effort.  I have never had a cat but my sister had her cat, Topper, for over twenty years and she loved him and he was beautiful and sweet and provided her with a great deal of joy.  And they have lots of cats at the SPCA.

"theft was as a splinter in his heart"

He saw the moonlit nursery every time he spoke his cousin's name; he blushed at nothing; he sometimes pinched himself, or uttered an oath, at the memory.  For although a man is judged by his actions, by what he has said and done, a man judges himself by what he is willing to do, by what he might have said, or might have done -- a judgment that is necessarily hampered, not only by the scope and limits of his imagination, but by the ever-changing measure of his doubt and self-esteem.
                                                                  The Luminaries, by Eleanor Catton

I finished my project, which was to read this book by Saturday.  I found the plot rather hard to decipher -- everyone was scamming everyone else, it seemed, and although by the end, I knew who was bad and who was good (not possible in real life, in most cases, but in this book, two of the characters were really terrible people and the rest were just weak or flawed), I would be hard pressed to describe exactly who tricked whom and how and where the gold came from and who deserved the profit from it.

But I really enjoyed the read.  It was like reading Wuthering Heights or something -- it starts with quite a detailed description of one person, who turns out to be a minor character in the actual story.  We see things through his eyes at the beginning, but then it gives the story from a variety of viewpoints.  It was an epic, sweeping story and I felt like it was a combination of "Unforgiven" and "Bering Sea Gold" and Wilkie Collins and Emily Bronte.  I have to take it back to the library tomorrow so I'm rereading the beginning, now that I kind of know where it's all going.

You suffer captivity, but you will have given a word to the poem. (Jorge Luis Borges)

This is from one of my most favourite pieces of writing called Inferno, I, 32.  It tells about a leopard who, in the 12th century, is seen by Dante and inspires him.  It talks about our purpose in life.  It is a very moving vignette and I think about it often and wonder about it and look to it to help me understand what happens to us.

Robin Williams died today.  He was a great artist but I guess that didn't save him.  I think the people who say that he was selfish and that he had everything, so why would he do this, don't understand the horrible nature of depression.  It is hard to soldier on every day for those of us who don't have to deal with that black dog and we can't know what took him to that dark and horrible place.  I can't say anything profound, just that I'm so sad that such a great actor, such a funny and sensitive performer, couldn't keep going.

Inferno, I, 32

From each day's dawn to dusk each night a leopard, during the final years of the twelfth century, beheld a few boards, some vertical iron bars, shifting men and women, a thick wall, and perhaps a stone gutter stopped with dry leaves.  He did not know, he could not know, that what he longed for was love and cruelty and the hot pleasure of tearing things apart and the wind carrying the scent of a deer.  But something in him was smothering and rebelling, and God spoke to him in a dream:  "You live and will die in this cage so that a man known to me may look at you a predetermined number of times, and may not forget you, and may put your shape and your symbol in a poem which has its necessary place in the scheme of the universe.  You suffer captivity, but you will have given a word to the poem."  God, in the dream, illumined the animal's brutishness and he understood the reasons, and accepted his destiny;  but when he awoke there was only a dark resignation in him, a valiant ignorance, for the machinery of the world is far too complex for the simplicity of a wild beast.

Years later Dante lay dying in Ravenna, as unjustified and as alone as any other man.  In a dream God declared to him the secret purpose of his life and his work;  Dante, filled with wonder, knew at last who he was and what he was, and he blessed his bitter sufferings.  Tradition has it that, on waking, he felt he had been given -- and then had lost -- something infinite, something he would not be able to recover, or even to glimpse, for the machinery of the world is far too complex for the simplicity of men.

When the moon is in the seventh house . . .

We trekked out to Aldergrove on Saturday to see the Perseid meteor shower (you've got to get out of the city lights in order to really see the night sky) and put up the tent and have a fun time.  Metro Vancouver does all kinds of events like this throughout the year in different parks and they're all fun -- go on the Metro Vancouver website or get their "Check It Out" brochure.  The events are often free and sometimes for a minimal charge ($2.00 for this one and you could camp all night and there were all sorts of activities to do -- there were a bunch of telescopes set up and storytellers and demonstrations of how gravity works and things like that).

Unfortunately for falling star viewing, the moon was HUGE.  It was a "super moon" which means that the full moon phase coincides with the moon being close to the earth, so the moon looks a lot bigger than normal.  And it was super bright, too!  And when the moon is super bright, it's hard to see faint stars or lots of meteors.   But we did see a few.  It was the noisiest camping I've ever done -- there was a real tent city and people everywhere.  But we arranged ourselves in our lawn chairs and sleeping bags and just stared up at the sky and the whole tent city ooh-ed whenever a meteor streaked through the sky.

The highlight was seeing Saturn in the telescope.  You could actually see the rings.  What would it have been like for Galileo to see that for the first time?  (I think it was Galileo.)  What would you think?  Something you thought was a perfect sphere turns out to have these bulges on either side.

On another note, I stumbled on Eleanor Catton's The Luminaries at the library a couple of days ago in the express book section.  Have you ever read an express book?  The library puts books that are in great demand there and you can take a book out for a week, but after that you pay a fine of a dollar a day.  If you know anything about The Luminaries, you know it's a huge tome and also that it won the Man Booker Prize in 2013.  So this is my project for the week.  It is set in gold country in New Zealand in 1866 and it traces the mystery of a dead man and a opium addicted prostitute.  It has a bunch of colourful characters (I'm having trouble keeping everyone straight -- in this respect, it's like a Russian novel) and makes a number of references to astrology which I don't understand at all, but it reminds me of this tv show that Mike and the boys loved called "Bering Sea Gold".  Everyone's mucking for gold and it's down and dirty and the characters are trying to feel each other out to get a sense of who's telling the truth and what everyone's agenda is.  I can picture everyone with dirty fingers (just like the characters on "Bering Sea Gold") and messy hair and world weary faces.  So far, I'm finding it pretty compelling stuff -- you look up from the book and realize you're not in Hokitika any more!

Invitation to envision another world

The history of nature is not always and only a lament; it is also an invitation to envision another world.                                             J. B. MacKinnon

We went to the Museum of Vancouver yesterday to see "Rewilding of Vancouver" which is about how the land on which Vancouver sits was, until relatively recently, a wilderness and how unwelcoming it can be for the plants and animals which used to call it home.  Vancouver was called the largest clearcut in BC.  When you think of it, and drive through along the Broadway corridor to get to the museum, you realize how unimaginable it is to think of all that land covered with great big trees and streams and mosses, but it wasn't that long ago that cougars and bears and elk roamed what is now the streets and avenues and urban landscape that we could call a cement jungle.

But as J.B. MacKinnon says, there is hope that we can turn things around.  Beavers are staging something of a comeback, moving down the Fraser River and staking out new territory in suburban and urban environments (like the Olympic Village).  I believe there is a creek in Vancouver that recently saw the return of salmon for the first time in about a hundred years.  Coyotes were first observed in the city in 1982 and look how well they've done!  It was a great display that showed videos of places like Lighthouse Park and Beaver Lake in Stanley Park and the whale that came up into False Creek a few years ago and salmon swimming upstream.  The destruction of Sto:lo hunting territory near Chilliwack, and the life size model of an extinct sea cow (we always eliminate the big animals first, the exhibit says) are juxtaposed with an artists' rendering focused on how we could share the city with wild things (photos of people in a shop looking out the window and seeing a grizzly bear strolling by on the street {and a warning light saying not to go into the street when the light is on because it indicates the presence of the bear}).  I really enjoyed all of it, from the taxidermy displays of animals like wolverines and deer to the fire ants (very tiny but fierce).  There are other cool things to see in the museum, too, like recreations of homes from Vancouver's long past, artifacts from events from the city's history and cool interactive stuff like the juke box.  It's worth a visit and then you can go down to the beach afterwards for a snack and a lounge in the sun.

I will say it's pretty tough to entertain a fifteen year old and a twelve year old.  Both boys took turns being annoyed, irritated or embarrassed by their poor benighted mother, and by the end of the day, I thought there wasn't much point in taking them along -- I wanted to see the "Rewilding Vancouver" exhibit, but maybe they didn't.  But once we were home, they seemed to have enjoyed it more than when we were actually there.  They had stuff to say about it and told their dad it was good and interesting. 

Mike has been transferring video tapes of the boys onto DVD's and I mentioned to Anthony that he was much more enthusiastic about everything when he was a little boy.  He agreed and shrugged.  I'm so glad I'm not a teenager. 
 

Bear Aware!

This morning, Daisy woke up barking up a storm.  I told her to go back to sleep, quite gruffly.  It was before six and this is the summer!  Usually Daisy will listen eventually, but she kept barking!  So I got up and looked out the window and there was a big black bear lumbering around in the backyard.  He was a handsome looking fellow with glossy black fur and a healthy roundness that suggests he's getting a lot to eat.  He didn't like the racket Daisy was making so he moved on.  She doesn't realize it, but she was doing him a favour.  Bears need to know that they're not welcome in our yards and so if you see one, make a lot of noise and act like you're not happy (from a safe distance, like the second floor bedroom window, like Daisy did).  If we make them welcome, by leaving ripe fruit on our trees and shrubs or on the ground, or by leaving pet food out or not cleaning our barbecues, or worst of all, letting them into the garbage, they're going to start to feel at home in our homes and that's a disaster for them.  Like they say, "a fed bear is a dead bear". 

Can a leopard change its spots?

Because of the terrible air pollution, Parisian officials tried to ban cars from the city for a day, but it didn't work.  They issued a lot of fines to people who drove anyway, but one woman said she'd rather pay the fine and get her kids to school because she didn't have an option.  The transit was free for the day, but that didn't help her.  You wonder what we can do to change people's habits.  I think most of us realize that climate change is a terrible problem and that we have to do what we can to mitigate the damage that we've already done and prevent the drop over the tipping point.  But it's such an involved mesh of actions and it's not just our government officials who seem incapable of acting; it's each of us as individuals, as the Paris example demonstrates.  I think of myself -- I am worried about climate change, but yet I drive my car every day for about an hour each way to get to work.  The alternatives? - take transit - which would take me three hours.  Get a job closer to home - but that's not as easy as I might wish.  (And I really like where I am.)  There has to be political and personal will and I wonder if people are willing to do anything before it's too late (me included).

The Star to Every Wandering Bark

Today is our 22nd anniversary.  That is a very long time to be married.  It is inevitable that you will have weathered quite a few storms in the space of 22 years and we have, but we have come through and intend to keep on keeping on.  Normally we would go out to dinner, but we are economizing this year with every fibre of our being and so we will eat here in the homestead.  Maybe Anthony will cook dinner (he's been cooking a bit this summer!)

I never imagined that I would get married or that I would have kids.  When I was young, I pictured quite a different life for myself -- single blessedness in a fancy apartment in New York City (or at least Toronto) and the life of an actor/writer/director -- there wasn't any room for husbands and children.

But your life takes on its own character and things don't happen in the way you imagine and your imagination of what makes a good life changes as you go as well.  Thanks to my mom I think I would have made the best of whatever life I stumbled upon, and thanks to both my parents I made some of my own luck -- it's never a bad idea to get an education and working and saving money and living minimally are always good ways of feeling like you're in control of some of the vicissitudes of life.  I will say that my family, my husband and children, my parents, my sister, are responsible for many of the great joys in my life and I wouldn't change a lot about the way I've lived.  I wouldn't trade our little townhouse with the lads and Daisy for a loft in Manhattan (although I'd like to be able to go to Manhattan more often -- New York is a great city with so much going on and such energy and excitement).

From my experience, this is my take on marriage.  It's not easy, but then nothing worth doing is easy.  You have to have a good sense of humour.  Sometimes you have to keep your mouth shut.  (But I do too much of that -- I should be better at communicating -- I know it, but it's hard to fight your impulses).  You have to appreciate and respect the other person.  You can't expect to change them.  They are what they are.  You can't expect them to make you happy.  You have to be happy yourself.  There has to be give and take -- you can't expect them to do things for you and you not to have to reciprocate.  You need to trust them and be trustworthy.  You both have to be willing to keep trying.  I think if one of you gives up, that's disaster.  So I hope Mike and I have another great 22 years (and more?) ahead of us!  Happy anniversary to us!

You Ruined Me!

We're off to a family reunion today at Peace Arch Park.  This is Mike's family, which is, of course, my family as well.  My niece has been hard at work to organize it and I hope it all goes well.  There are lots of people in the family who are really talented and so I expect there will be some music and maybe a poetry slam (my niece is a poet) and there will be lots of food (Mike has made his delicious shepherd's pie and I am going to make a nice coleslaw) and it will be a lovely day.

When the boys were very small, we went back to Saskatchewan to my family reunion.  My parents had both passed away by then, but my sister and I went to represent the family (we're the only offspring).  Rickie was glad that I had had children, since then the Tony Kosar side was going to be continued.  (Hopefully that's not the only reason she's glad about the boys!)  My grandfather had twenty-five children!  He had ten with my grandmother and then fifteen with his second wife!  So when we walked into the little community centre in Buchanan, Saskatchewan, there was the family tree on one wall and it covered the whole wall!  Just with my grandfather's kids and grandkids and, in some cases (faster breeders than me!) great grandkids.  I don't even know all my cousins, there are so many of them and some of them were actually older than my dad, since he was the youngest of the ten first children and my aunt was grown up when he was born.

I'm not especially good at these social events, but families are interesting entities.  You look at all the people and think that you're connected somehow, even though it doesn't appear that you have anything in common with some of them.  I know Mike is quite different from his brothers and sisters and my sister and I have common interests, but we are very different as people.  And then my own kids really reflect my sister's and my personalities.  Anthony is a lot like Rickie and William much more like me.

At my family reunion, they had a photo booth (it was the old days so there was an actual photographer) and each nuclear family was supposed to have its picture taken, so we got ourselves together and started to go in.  When Anthony (who was about three) realized what it was, he broke away from Mike and ran off!  I guess he didn't want his picture taken.  He was about three meters away and he stopped and turned and yelled, "no! no! no!" and when Mike tried to get him and drag him in for the picture, he yelled, "you ruined me!"  I guess a lot of people think that about their parents!  (But hopefully, Anthony doesn't think it now.)

Not single spies!

Does anyone remember "Banksy"?  Someone did a play about Banksy's work being sold at auction for a huge sum earlier this year.  Banksy is a graffiti artist who creates public art with wry social and political commentary.  He doesn't sell his pieces, but some people who've owned the buildings he's graffiti-ed have sold the wall on which he has created his work.  Apparently he created fake pound notes replacing the queen's picture with Princess Diana's face and changed "Bank of England" to "Banksy of England" and then threw the notes into a crowd of people at a fair.  Now the notes are being sold for two hundred pounds (each)!  If you haven't seen any of his work, look in Google because it looks great and is quite provocative (two good things in visual art, I think).  Should art be "for sale"?  If it isn't, how does an artist make a living?  I think art should be available to everyone (hence, no charge to come and see our shows if you can't pay -- but PLEASE, pay if you can, because we need the dough!) but it is a dilemma when we live in a society that requires that people make a living.

He created this great piece called "Spy Booth" with three trench-coated secret agents surrounding a phone booth (I wonder how many phone booths are left!) -- look it up -- it's really film noire-ish.  The owner of the wall said he was going to try to have it removed and sold, and now it's been graffit-ed itself!  It's a bit ironic and I wonder what Banksy himself thinks of it.  But certainly the graffiti that covers "Spy Booth" is not as interesting or artistic as Banksy's work.

It's August!  One more month of freedom (I hope it's only a month).  I'm sure some of you heard the government is going to pay people who have children under the age of thirteen forty dollars a day if we are not back in school in September.  I confess I didn't sleep last night.  It appears the government is willing to pay anybody but teachers.  I keep thinking I can't get any more disheartened than I am already, but it keeps getting worse.  On a bright note, the weather's great and the berries are ripening and I'm going to pick blackberries today which are healthy candy, they're so sweet!