BLOGG # 75 THE EYES- WINDOWS OF THE SOUL

The eyes-Windows of the Soul

A few months ago, at my grandson’s birthday while we were playing around and celebrating,  I picked up my son-in-law’s piano accordion and started playing it even though I hadn’t touched an accordion in thirty five years and then only one or two times.  I played, badly, “happy Birthday to you” and “The Tennessee Waltz.” We all laughed at my attempt and my daughter videoed me on her new fancy cell phone. When I saw this video I was amused and emailed it to my friends. My friends emailed back voicing astonishment at my “expertise” and said they even danced to the Tennessee Waltz. Unfortunately she noted that I did not look a “happy musician” and she was right. I also had noticed a very sad look in my eyes and was puzzled by it. My rational mind told me it was due to pain- I was recuperating from a frozen shoulder- and the irrational part of me said what I saw was the mirroring of a sad soul-perhaps mine.  I replayed the video. The look seemed familiar and then I recognized it. I had seen it in my father’s eyes. And now I will tell you a story of my father: He was a quiet somewhat stern man who said little but this is what he told me one day a long time ago when I was still a young woman. “I was once a musician. I used to play the piano accordion. I used to play for dances in my village and after the dance as I walked home softly playing to myself, people would throw open their windows to listen and say “John you play like an angel”. Once when I had to go to the city to buy out my commission (my father was an officer in the Russian army during World War 1) I met another soldier while we were waiting who had a new accordion and I asked if I could play it. I played all afternoon and the soldiers danced all afternoon in the square. When it was over I had made enough money to pay off my commission.” I asked him what happened as I had never heard him play nor did I know of this side of him. He paused a moment then said he didn’t know. “I just stopped” he said , looking at me puzzled. He said that years later in Canada while visiting a friend he asked to play his accordion and picked it up but started to tremble all over uncontrollably unable to play at all. Then he said “I   put the accordion down and knew I would never play again”. And that is when I saw that look in my father’s eyes. Now I wonder what other hard sacrifices were necessary for him  to give up by immigrating to Canada- his difficult life and the resulting traumas suffered by him like the sacrifice of being unable to play  an instrument he loved and  to give up this essential part of himself and I wondered also if this was so of many of our immigrants. I realize now this is a Canadian story-the sacrifices of giving up part of the inherent self of Canadian immigrants and indeed one of the basic ingredients in the tapestry of what makes up the Canadian character- another reason to be proud to be a Canadian. Thanks for listening to my father's story- your grateful blogger.

BLOGG # 74 ROB FORD AND THE LEOPARD CAN'T CHANGE HIS SPOTS

Toronto's Rob Ford and the saying “The leopard can’t change his spots”

Lately this very irritating saying “the leopard can’t change his spots” has been running through my head reminding me of my childhood when I had to endure my well-meaning betters who, with frowns on their faces,chastised me for my many faults and ending with this comment: "the leopard can't change his spots, you know"  You can imagine the effect on a small child of this weighty burden inflicted on it. Yes, dear readers I, even as an adorable child, had faults and they weren’t very nice ones. I will list some of them-laziness, slovenliness, a tendency to whine, lingering in bed in the mornings and worst of all, day- dreaminess. This last one was so pronounced that, as my sister tells me, my grade one teacher assigned a fellow classmate to poke me when she wanted my attention. I, being an intelligent child, always had my gaze out the window dreaming of India, Africa, lions and tigers. Why adults would repeat this saying to emphasize a child’s faults instead of his good points is incomprehensible. How refreshing it would have been to hear “You are very good at this or that and will always be so and remember, like the leopard, you can’t change your  spots” How reassuring  for the child. I was not happy with who I was  as a child but I did try to “change my spots” including my freckles which I tried with no success to rid with lemon juice as my grandmother assured me I would not find a husband with them. When it became time as a young woman to choose a profession, I decided against my first choice of being a missionary- I was still hankering after lions and tigers-and chose the nursing profession. Next to the Army, nursing school is the best place to change these spots- or so I thought and indeed, I spent the next three years getting up at six a.m. and spent days and years cleaning things wearing a sparkling white starched bib and apron  and ,I kid you not, black shoes and stockings-an impressive sartorial image. Did I succeed? No, I did not. I am not known for my domestic skills. I do not get up at dawn-much to the delight of my neighbours. Nothing stirs in my house before 9am and of course I still am a dreamer-after all I am an artist and this is an asset. I am now looking at my leopard spots with new positive eyes. And now I come to the purpose of this blog- For the past few weeks we have been beleaguered with the unsavoury story of Toronto’s mayor, Mr. Ford. Now there is a big leopard with bigger spots  who has never, will never, and has no intention of ever changing them. I am disgusted along with everyone else with this story, but must confess to, in a teensy way, feeling a reluctant admiration for him. He is not backing down, not stepping down, and though he says he is sorry, there are no crocodile tears. “I am sorry” he says “I don’t know what else to say, this happened but I am not stepping down no matter what” in other words, like Popeye the sailor man he says “I "yam"what I "yam" and that’s what I "yam.”  He stands firm with all his spots. So next time someone condescendingly points out your spots and pulls out this old saw, say “yes I know and aren't they great!"

 

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BLOGG # 73 THOUGHTS ON THE WORD LOVE FOR VALENTINE"S

Thoughts on the word “Love” for Valentine’s

A few weeks ago I was invited to dim sum lunch by a book club group. They were very intelligent and thoughts and ideas flew around the table. One of the group mentioned  a movie he had just seen about a man who had fallen in love with a machine. Apparently the machine and he had had a complex interacting relationship over a long and intensive time. I didn’t catch the nature of the machine but knew it wasn’t the obvious- a robot. The discussion branching out from this developed into whether or not one can have a love relationship with an inanimate subject like a machine. This became quite animated as examples were brought up. The computer with its ability to start a love hate relationship was brought up and of course the intense interaction between it and us in the highly competitive computer games we are all indulging in. Everyone decided that it would be terrible to lose the computer, and it would be badly missed and surely that was love. Also, one could love intensely an object; for example that special letter opener one bought in an exotic place -my personal love object. We all know the despair of having to throw out that beloved pair of perfect jeans mourning its demise, to say nothing of having to throw out the perfect white cotton T-shirt bought in Turkey in 1975. Examples of love flew around the table until I interrupted with “But does love of these things break your heart?” To my surprise a charming woman said “Oh yes –my first car. When it died I was heartbroken, we had had a tense ten year relationship, and she was so difficult always breaking down and gave me such a hard time” She looked quite wistful as she said “  I just loved that car.” So I became somewhat convinced and imagined our favourite god the cute naked little winged boy perched on a cloud with his bow and arrow looking down at someone in the process of buying a new car and aiming the arrow straight at the buyer’s heart. I refuse to believe he chooses to aim at the heart of the car! Evidently the outcome of the movie, sadly, was that the machine refused the heartbroken man’s advances proving again that machines have more intelligence than humans who are so  careless with their hearts as to fall into that lovelorn pit- or are they? And aren’t we lucky to be able to do so-- Happy Valentine’s day

BLOGG # 72 MAINTAINING THE BALANCE

Note: I have chosen this subject -keeping in mind your post Christmas-New Year Eve debauchery.

I have noticed with the passing years that one word crops up more than any other. No, dear reader, it is not the negative words you are thinking of for such advanced years as mine- cancel those thoughts at once. The word I find spoken most frequently in reference to my age is balance. The importance of balance in my life, my diet, my exercise program is a lecture I often have to listen to.

  The first of these refers to the physical body.  I don’t know what you do but I personally spend hours at the pool painstakingly walking back and forth the width of the pool, trying to keep my feet directly in front of each other on the red line, trying desperately to not fall into the brink. Also I attempt with varying success, the Yoga one legged stance. Then there are the experts.  My acupuncturist who feels my pulse looks at my tongue and solemnly shakes his head and intones “eat  more raw root vegetables to balance out your yin or is it yang?  My chiropractor on the other hand, pommels my back and says “You are a mess! You are way out of balance” and proceeds to pound me back into that exalted  state. My  medical doctor is not exempt. We spend long conversations on “maintaining balance” that go like this: the vampire one: “Your good and bad cholesterol levels are out of whack” and looking at me over his glasses-“less red wine, Laurie, and eat more almonds.”  My blood pressure is next. The doctor and I try to keep it perfect between high and low with a balanced level of low salt, sugar and lots of salads. There is another longer discussion on keeping my digestive tract in balance- a high wire act of balance between fiber and laxative intake to prevent disaster. But the physical is not the only realm of perfect balance-oh no! There is the all important “Sartorial balance” When one reaches a certain age this can be rather fun- there are a lot of possibilities-You can do “frump” “ grunge” “eccentric” or “classic” or, my personal favourite, a combination of all four with a bright scarf  thrown in. What you can not do is “Vintage”. If you bring out your sixties mini or heaven forbid, your fifties felt poodle skirt, you will look as if you are in a time warp and look pathetic and very silly. The really important part is the balance and listen to me carefully dear readers, between lengths and width; for example, when wearing palazzo pants –a favourite of women of my age, it is better to team it with a fitted short top- not a loose one reaching below your hips-thereby emphasizing them, low heels, and a small hat if wearing one. On the other hand if wearing a short skirt- yes you can-even mini- the top should be loose and just no more than two inches shorter than the mini-topped by, preferably, a favourite rather sloppy cardigan shorter than the skirt, and sleeves pushed up. If wearing a scarf, it should reach just to the hem of your skirt-no longer.  Do not wear high heels! A casual pair of sandals or brogues if you have nice ankles, bare skinned if you can, and no, no socks! Boots can be worn but not too elegant-as it looks like you are trying too hard. Maquillage is definitely a matter of balance- emphasize either the eyes or the lips not both. Every age has one feature that is important to deal with, and at my age it is the eyebrows- never step out of the bedroom in the morning without attending to your eyebrows!  You will notice I do not mention wrinkles. In a mature appearance,  wrinkles, especially those earned by extensive fun- living, complete the well balanced sartorial effect. This has been real fun, readers, but there is more to balance- there is the spiritual and emotional balance. As you get older this gets more challenging. The balance between maintaining your friends gets more difficult with age and lovers- ditto- also finding spiritual and creative space.  This is the ultimate balancing act and I advise you to start practicing it way before you reach any where near “seven score ten”

BLOGG #71 OH NO! JANUARY SIXTH ALREADY

January sixth-Epiphany

So soon –so soon –here it is the sixth of January- or better known as  epiphany - the dictionary meaning being a sudden realization-or enlightenment,actually- the first manifestation of the infant Jesus Christ to the  populace. The Greek meaning is light – the Greek word is fos and any girl lucky enough to be born on that day is called “Fotini” or “lightness” and also can have two celebrations.  They have a big celebration on this day involving the sea. The priest goes down to the harbor to “Bless the Sea” with a holy cross –the sea being such a vital part of their culture- and surrounding him are all the good-looking young men shivering in their brief  bathing suits. After the blessing the priest tosses the cross into the sea and the eager youths dive in, each hoping to be the lucky one to retrieve it. This is a very exciting event and all the community celebrates it and I must say it is satisfying to watch on many levels . Here, on the other hand, epiphany really means turning off of the lights-typical of our cynical culture –and this means taking down all the lovely decorations and especially the tree. Some people on the Sixth Eve have a candlelit celebration with friends before doing so- a friend describes an exciting such evening when the tree accidently caught fire and the fire fighters were called. Well that sounded rather fun.  But most of us just take down the tree. I ,on the other hand, do not!  It is precisely after the celebrations in the dullness of post Christmas that I need my tree. I did take off the outer door decoration to appease my neighbours but not the tree. Mind you, my tree this year, due to economizing, is my dead potted apple tree- I haven’t the heart to throw it out and think this way is a very satisfactory way for this very old tree to bow out and I want to prolong it’s experience. One of the joys of living alone and there are many, dear readers, is the fact that you can keep your Christmas tree up until Valentine’s day if you wish and indeed I just might do that

BLOGG # CHIVALRY IS NOT DEAD

The week before Christmas, having nothing to do, I decided to go to Vancouver to visit my good friend and companion in Burnaby.  I have reached the delightful age where I no longer am obliged to: bake artery clogging festive goodies,decorate seven foot trees,wrap in  Martha Steward influenced manner, useless gifts or stuff  over sized birds.  Instead I was free to take long walks in Burnaby Central park among snow laden forests or wander through the metrotown mall looking in awe at the decorations and admiring the fashionably dressed shoppers. We both spend Christmas day with our own children and darling grandchildren and not with each other-knowing full well that the darling grandchildren are darling only in our own eyes.  However because it was so Christmassy, we decided to have a pre-pre-Christmas dinner just for ourselves and decided to go to a restaurant with a lovely view of the inlet and mountains. It was indeed a lovely view, cold brisk with new fallen snow on the mountains. We chose to sit in the covered patio beside a roaring fireplace and ordered a festive meal. We had coconut covered prawns-as all good writers do, I like to describe good meals in detail, knowing my readers like to live vicariously through the written word, crab dip, and for the main course tuna cooked very rare.and I advise you to order it cooked very rare too when you order it as my companion pointed out. We did not order dessert as it puts on pounds. Indeed it has been known to put on pounds even to the readers. Of course we also had  a bottle of lovely white wine. This blogg however is not about gourmand food, but about chivalry and I must explain: while my companion was seating me at our table, he put me into the chair facing the window saying " Sit here so you can look at the view while you are eating" This was very nice and I suggested he sit next to me so he could look at the view too but he,good man and rightly so, promptly sat opposite me saying" I would rather look at you." I was pleased. I was charmed and I bloomed and became even more vibrant and entertaining than I usually am. So listen to me. Don't despair, don't give up hope, never give in and remember -Chivalry is not dead

Chivalry is not dead