Gifts

Gifts

My husband bought me a jewelry box for Christmas this year, even though we'd made a deal not to get anything for each other. It's a huge monstrosity, and I never thought I would even come close to filling it.

This morning, during one of my few and far between fits of organization, I decided to gather all my bits and pieces of gold and silver and fill up the box...

While going through the junk drawer in my dresser (my writers' group would love this, after the last writing assignment I gave them-what's in your character's junk drawer?) I found an old Valentine card from my husband (another thing we agreed not to give...). I knew immediately it was from the year after my daughter was born-she would have been almost a year old.

The card originally read "I'm so glad you're a part of my life" and T. had scratched out the "I" and "my" and replaced them with "We" and "our".

I had to stop, because it brought home how hard he tried to hold things together the year after my daughter was born and I went through such terrible depression. It seemed he took every opportunity to get me to engage, to see us as a unit. He took over everything-cooking, cleaning, child care, making sure obligations with family and friends were met.

It also made me aware of just how much that time is still a part of me, of my sub-conscious. My consciousness. It's still part of my story, and I tell it the way some girls tell their bad-boyfriend stories to their new loves. If you are going to be my friend, you need to know just how crazy I can be. It came out recently(as a bit of an off-hand joke-I can do that now) , at a party where I met a mom who some would say is a bit of a local celebrity. Her reaction? "Well, you better never let your daughter know you felt that way."

I think it was meant as a joke, but maybe not.

So I thought about that as I sorted through my "jewels." I never really thought I had much, but I have some really beautiful pieces:

• The vintage locket my grandma sent me through Canada Post (!) complete with tiny pictures of her and my grandpa.
• The glass pendant I bought in N. Manitoba this year-the one with the two blues that remind me of the lake I write about
• The charm bracelet I received when I was 5.
• The sapphire ring T's granny gave me twenty years ago-the one her dad bought her mom with the money he earned in the trenches of WW1.
• My Italian charm bracelet with all the goofy charms my kids have given me - best mom, a Tweety Bird for my daughter, a rainbow for my son. Polar bears, and angels.
• The silver Celtic knot my friend Peggy bought me.
• The angel pin T's dad always wore on his shirt to remind him of T's mom.
• The emerald-green dragonfly choker T bought me a year after he gave me that Valentine. (I guess to celebrate getting better?)

So, gifts. And depression. Well.

I remember my doctor, trying to convince me that meds were the answer, told me that some of her post-partum patients said that depression was like seeing things in black and white, then medication helped them see in colour again. I thought that was a pretty good metaphor, for a science major.

But for me, it was more like I was missing only one colour. So things were just a half-twist from normal. It wasn't that all colour was gone, just one was. Like all the blue would be missing, or all the red. I always knew I was messed up, and I knew there was an answer, I just didn't know how to make that one colour come back. Seemed harder, somehow.

So I took these two pics, over two years apart of Lizard Creek at Mount Fernie Provincial Park.

And it made me think of that black and white thing.

Take a look.

Same creek. Different perspective. Both are actually in colour, but you can't tell, because all that lush green is dormant. So maybe depression is more than black and white. Maybe it is winter. And "hang in there, buddy, summer will come!"

There's something to this, and I think after 5 years of being called to write about that time, I may be ready to start. I am sure it will make its way into my fiction eventually, but what is percolating now is non-fiction, for sure. I just need to settle on my angle.

And when it is done, it will be something I can show my daughter, because there will always be winters to get through. And maybe part of it is seeing the beauty in winter, but I think knowing that the change of season will come is important, too.

And the gifts, the jewels in my life are a good place to start. I appreciate the gift my daughter is. She is even more precious for the rough start we had together.

You don't know what you have until you untangle it from the costume jewelry, or until you dig it out from a junk drawer. Or until the snow melts and the creek starts flowing again.

Song of the Week-When it Don't Come Easy - Patty Griffin

Book of the Week- A novella, actually- Translations of April by Heighton. (Found in On Earth as it Is)

Keep a Weather Eye...

on the Horizon....

Things that I wish I were a good enough writer to describe...

- The exact colour of Clearwater Lake the first time you see it...you never forget.

- The smell of a Regina mid-winter date, snow-filled streets, a stroll around Mackenzie Art Gallery (no, I mean around the building, outside, on the stairs and ramps), Phantom of the Opera posters, and oh my little Honda makes it through the drifts! (The ice is thin, come on dive in...Sarah McLachlan-that makes 4 Mc/Macs)

- The weight of air on skin-while sitting in the Third Beach sand, reading Steven Heighton (The Ecstasy of Skeptics, indeed!) leaning on a giant log, watching surfers on English Bay.

- The feeling the sound of Billie Joe Armstrong's voice evokes - but only on certain songs- Holiday/Blvd of Broken Dreams combo, 21 Guns, Working Class Hero, When I Come Around, Longview...(hmmm mostly the ones where he says fuck, I see)

- The coolness of Captain Jack...Why is the rum always gone?

- ah, love...

- quiet loveliness of a handsome man, in jeans, bare feet in flipflops, almost-uniform blue shirt, sideways on a bench, leaning against the raw brick at Freshies', reading the Herald, longish blond hair in a little ponytail, strands escaping to caress fair cheekbones-you will see him somewhere, in a story, sometime.

-The fast, pukey sensation of driving Corvettes and Ferraris without ever leaving the room...

-The embrace of gratitude for good friends...

-The emptiness that cradles my inability to paint these pictures for you, in three-dimensions, with full colour and scent, sound...tastes.

"I walk a lonely road..."

K

Book Choice-Kiss the Joy as it Flies - Sheree Fitch

Song- 40Dogs by Bob Schneider

Who Says You Can't Go Home

Bon Jovi says you can, but what happens when the home you had is not there?

I headed up to The Pas, in Northern Manitoba this summer to see the place where I lived for two years. It is a place that made an impression on me, which seems to be quite beyond my mom. I can't tell you the number of times she asked why I was going back to "that place," a haven for flies (horse and black) and mosquitoes that use your arm for a runway.

The short answer is to do research for the stories I am writing, but the long answer is quite a bit more complicated.

Living up there was difficult at times...for all the reasons you would expect: I missed my friends, my grandma; it was cold; the bus ride to town everyday was brutal and boring. But it was also hard to fit in. My memory is fuzzy, but it seems to be full of the strange things my town friends would do...I couldn't seem to figure out how to step lightly.

Luckily I lived at the airport, where I did have good friends, and lots of fun. I snowmobiled, curled, cross-country skied, explored the woods and the lake to my heart's content. It seems now that I had unprecedented freedom to roam. I had boundaries, but I was rarely checked up on.

The lake is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. It ranks right up there with Moraine Lake in Alberta. Moraine Lake is static though, calm, dark blue. Clearwater Lake changes, sometimes within seconds from a bright, calm and calming crystal blue to dark, angry indigo. It's untrustworthy in a way.

Maybe the allure didn't hit me until I heard about the now (in)famous murder of Helen Betty Osbourne. How could such a horrible, despicable event happen on the shores of such natural beauty? How could so many know what happened, who had done it,  and yet not feel they could say anything?

To look back at the place through a lens like that has to make it more interesting. And to return now, where our little airport community has been disbanded and scattered to the wind, leaving only driveways that lead nowhere, broken sidewalks strewn like tombstones and trees that delineate empty lots...well the whole thing just begs to be looked at, turned over, analyzed.

It was hard realizing this was one place I've lived that I could not show my kids. Like Hadrian's Wall in England, or Castle Campbell in Scotland, what was there, is now gone.

A gas station-convenience store-pub now stands on the loop where we waited for our bus. Bags of empty beer cans sit out behind the building on the very place my friend's dad used to park his big Suburban.

So many people say "you can never go home again." In this case, it is too true.

Book of the Week: Well, kind of on a break from reading...an old favourite- On Earth As it Is by Steven Heighton (especially Translations of April)

Song of the Week: "Til I Am Myself Again -Blue Rodeo (Or one from my The Pas Era-Jessie's Girl)

TIme are a-changing...

Timing is everything...

I have taken a leave this year to work on my writing, to try and focus on maybe earning some money through this hobby of mine. Spent a week of my summer at the Fernie Writers' Conference, working on manuscripts and learning all I could.

On the 4th day, my husband gets an email that the powers that be are selling off his department at the Big Oil Company where he works. Now we are in wait and see mode-will he lose his job? Will it be now or later?

Things are starting to move a bit on the writing front. (I have my first paid book review job and my manuscript went over pretty well at the conference. I am heading up this week to do research on my book.) Lots of forward momentum, so of course, something has to block that.

The word "opportunity" is a bit of a joke (no, it really is a joke) in our house...kind of the way a 6 year old talking about "appropriate behaviour" is a joke) It's a catchphrase, a cliche. But I guess we do have the opportunity to make some changes now. The big thing for me is uprooting my kids. Of course we can sell our house and take the money we made in the ultimate land of golden opportunity, Alberta, and head back home where we could live a pretty nice life...lots of money, lots of writing time, family...

But we kinda like it here.

So who knows what is going to happen. Even if he does get laid off, we will have time to decide. I moved a lot as a kid, so I know my kids will probably be fine (my writing instructor, Peter, would call me on that probably-first because it is a dreaded adverb-weak writing! Second, because of what it implies-that they probably WON'T be fine) but still, lots on my mind.

To be perfectly honest, not having to depend on a land-raping corporation for my livelihood might be just the thing.

As my mom always told me, be careful what you wish for.

Book of the Week: Open Arms by Marina Endicott

Song of the Week: Eat It by Weird Al Yankovic (as discovered by my kids-oh the joys of YouTube)

Time Flies

It's that time of year again - marking, report cards, clean up. Add to that doctors' appointments, soccer and daily chores...when is there time to pursue this writing thing?

I have a long to do list in every area of my life right now, but things are starting to get checked off.

Looking forward to heading to Fernie this weekend-there is a fun run on Sunday, so I need to call and book myself in for that. With all the recreational enthusiasts there, I will likely come in last, but oh well, at least I will finish! Going to book the kids into summer camp while I am there. I will have a couple of weeks this summer to work on my writing.

Had a big conversation at work yesterday with a good friend about the hypocrisy of the workplace. It seems easier to just let my angst over this go...everyone else seems to be able to compartmentalize and move on. It's the picking and choosing of morality that bugs me. I guess I am just feeling tired. It is exhausting holding leaders to high standards and constantly being disappointed.

My girl Delaney is learning about morality and standards. Twice in the past week I have caught her in a lie. One of her lies got someone else in big trouble - no cupcake at special snack time, a visit to the principal's office, grounding... In a way I feel like I am making a bigger deal than I should out of it, but I am afraid if I let it go, I will have real problems teaching her these things when she is a teen. She told me I am meaner than my husband. My friend Jenn tells me this means I am doing my job. I hope so. We will see how things go today.

I was away at a Ladies' Weekend in Canmore this past weekend. It never ceases to amaze me how a diverse group of women can come together and find common ground. I guess men can do this too, but at least we don't talk about hockey or football. Get a group of women together on any issue, and with enough discussion, I think we could be a force to be reckoned with. It's too bad we are always so busy with the day-to-day.

Speaking of the day-to-day, I am taking a leave from work next year. I will sub, we need the cash, but all those pesky obligations that seem to get in the way of my writing (report cards, interviews, planning) will be gone. It will also give me a chance to get out and see all of my good friends who are now scattered in schools around the Northwest.

I am taking the opportunity to work on my big writing project, a novel set in N. Manitoba. I also have about a thousand small stories waiting to be written. I have booked a research trip to The Pas for the summer, and have committed to the Writers' Conference again this year. I also have another opportunity for next year that I should know more about by the end of summer.

So I am not sure if time will actually slow down next year, but am hopeful I can eke out a few more hours to improve my "hobby".

Plus, it might be nice to spend even more time keeping an eye on that little girl of mine...

Song of the Week - Goodnight, California by Kathleen Edwards

Book of the Week - Fall on Your Knees by Ann-Marie MacDonald

Right from Wrong

I seem to have been given the wrong impression.  For some reason, I thought this parenting thing was supposed to get easier once the kids were out of diapers and could get their own snacks.

Two things happened this week that made me realize just how difficult it is to teach (scary thought, coming from a so-called professional teacher).  No situation is ever just black or white.

The first happened when my son came home from school feeling a little down.  It seems some of the students were given "challenge words" in spelling.  My son was a little depressed that he had not been chosen (and sadly enough, had no idea what the criteria was for being allowed to do the challenge words).  He wanted to know what to do.  That was a pretty easy one to handle, though he decided that talking to the teacher about it was too scary.  

Then he mentioned that one of the four girls cheats on her tests, thus meeting whatever teh criteria is for being allowed challenge words (I know this all seems minor-stick with me).  He wanted to know if he should tell the teacher that this girl was writing the words in her desk before every test.  

Of course, I kind of blew it off, told him to worry about himself, that he knows that he is doing the right thing.  He agreed, but said, "It's just not right, Mom."  That is when I realized that the advice I gave him on the subject would shape the way he will deal with these types of things in the future.  And that is when my job as a mother, a guide, really, seemed pretty important.  We talked about a few options - telling the teacher, talking to the girl, getting some other kids to tell...I felt kind of overwhelmed by the seriousness he showed in something that to me was, at first, a no brainer.

The other issue of the week was my daughter.  For some reason, she felt it was necessary to touch her toe just over the line to see what would happen when she said the EFF word at school.  We had just been talking about this because my son had, just the night before, used the term "buggered up" to describe a mistake he made on his homework.  Guess his sister thought she would find out what happened if she swore at school. (I believe the phrase she spoke was "I'm freezing, f*ck".  Haha Right?)

When I arrived to pick her up, her little "friend" came flying out the door to tell me about my daughter's "Bad word".  She had also apparently told the teacher and one of the little boys.

I gave my daughter hell - I mean heck - for swearing, but the teachable moment came when she said that her little friend did the wrong thing by tattling on her.  That real friends are not supposed to do that.  

Because on one hand I kind of agreed with her.  And I know all about tattling is to get someone into trouble, and telling is done to get someone out.  I am a teacher, I must say those words twenty times a week.

But this was another lesson.  To condone the tattling is not a lesson I want to teach my kids.   But thinking about it on a larger scale, a societal scale, kind of changes things.  

With my son, I thought he had two choices - to tell or not.  But yet, when it came to my daughter's situation, I kind of was annoyed with the little tattle-tale.  But if it comes down to seeing someone do something worse that swear or cheat, does that make it okay to tell?  If you see your friend shoplift, or someone get robbed or raped, do you just say "Well, I know I am doing the right thing, so I will just stay out of it?"

I don't agree with that either.  If we are going to teach a child how do choose between right and wrong, shouldn't we teach them how to deal with the situation when someone breaks the code? How do you find the balance between upstanding citizen and annoying complainer?  

So all of a sudden, two very minor incidents, take on huge implications.  I guess in a way it is kind of a loss of innocence.  Especially when you find out your mom hasn't got all the answers.  

Discussing the issue with my son was eye-opening.  He said to me, "Well, people who cheat eventually get caught right? They learn their lesson." It was hard to break it to him that some people cheat for a very long time, and get much more than challenge words before they are ever caught.  And some are never caught.  

He was pretty confused, too, about why someone would want to cheat to get it all correct.  "Don't we learn from our mistakes?  If she cheats she is not learning anything." 

Both kids have given me a lot to think about.  And it's kind of made me re-think what happens in my own classroom.  Tattle-talers run rampant in grade 4.  Unless it is life or death, I cull a lot of the crap with a "Thank you for telling me."  Some kids are undoubtedly trying to get ahead on the trouble others get into, but maybe some truly believe that something needs to be set right.

Guess I need to stop phoning it in, at home and at school, and start giving answers that just might teach these kids how to navigate the roads ahead of them.

Book of the Week - The Road - Cormac McCarthy (You must read!)

Song of the Week - Kicking Stones - Johnny Reid 

Change - I hope it is coming

I am feeling more than a little guilty that I have not added anything new for over a month.  

Not really sure I have anything useful to say.

I think this Obama "Change" theme is infiltrating my subconscious.  In one of my previous entries I wrote that it seemed so many of the people I care about are going through tough times right now, like there was some kind of hideous planetary misalignment that knocked everyone on their asses.

Perhaps, it is just a harbinger of change.  Things have to get worse before they can get better, or something.  I felt really inspired, not only by some of the messages Obama was getting out there, but more than that, by the people themselves, people who were getting off their butts and doing something to make change happen.  I was reading an article that discussed Obama's fundraising ability, and how he put Clinton to shame - and how it was not the Big Cheeses with millions that made the difference, but the multitude of everyday people who put what they could into supporting him.  Drops in the bucket, so to speak.

Every year I introduce my students to a song by Steven Bell (On the Wings of an Eagle). It is a song based on Isaiah 39.  We have a discussion about that old workplace poster "It's hard to soar like an eagle when you are surrounded by turkeys."  We discuss the symbol of the eagle, and why it was chosen in the Bible, and for the song.  

I have a boy in my class who is pretty on the ball-not just gifted, but aware, plugged in...it was the first time the connection was made between the eagle and the US.  We ended up having quite the conversation about the symbolism of the great bird, and its correlation to independence and strength.  I use the song as a call to self-improvement for the kids, pride in themselves, and being vigilant in their own rise. (you can be a turkey or an eagle-or in a broader more inclusive sense, a sparrow, or a duck) 

 I put up a bulletin board and didn't notice until it was done that I had done it all in red and blue.  Oops.  For someone who is in no way an American flag waver (who could be after the past eight years? The way Canadians have been swept aside as useless?) I was shocked that my subconscious outed me.  Either that or those were just the two colours of paper that were available.

When you look at the state we are in, things have become about as bad as they can be.  Environmentally, financially and diplomatically in public, and just as bad in the homes of those close to me who are struggling.  So now is the time things have to start getting better.

The other morning, when I heard the news that Obama had put in motion steps to close Guantanamo Bay, I had to catch my breath.  It's like the US has regained its sanity.  It must have been hard to decide to do that-I think of my son being held there, and I want it closed, but then I think of someone from there killing my son, and I want to do whatever it takes to keep my loved ones safe.  But Obama has not said he is releasing anyone, as far as I know.  I believe he has a plan to try these people according to the law.  I have been following this story (yes, through liberal media) and I am appalled at what I have found out about the tactics used in the name of safety, and in the name of God.

I was also glad to hear the new President's first trip will be to Canada.  I think it is high time those relations were repaired.

I watched the Larry King "interview" of the Bushes the other night.  W was very defensive, and Laura came across as a 50's housewife who had no clue what her husband did at work.  Of course, she did make clear that she knows what all of us know, what the media reports.  Sheesh.  She said she is going to write a book.  I won't be rushing out to get her unique take on what she didn't know about her husband.

W sleeps fine at night.  He should read the latest Vanity Fair, where all the major lowlights of his presidency are listed, right from winning the election through a Supreme Court decision to how he handled the financial market collapse.  Luckily he has passed an edict stating he and his buddies cannot be prosecuted for the decisions they made in Afghanistan and Iraq. 

Well, this post wandered quite far from my intent.

I guess the next big question is - who is going to make the change in Canada?  Who is going to light a fire under the asses of the people in this country?  We need change here, too.  In our leadership, but at home, too.  It's time for all of us to make some resolutions and clean up - at home, the environment, the government.  

Book of the Week - At Work by Annie Leibovitz

Song of the Week - Hotel California by The Eagles (cause as Cael would say, I "killed" it on Guitar Hero)

Okay, it was on the Easy setting.  Everyone has to start somewhere, right?