Monday, October 31, 2011

Hallowe'en is not my friend

(I'm not even going to address the recent loss of the apostrophe in spellchecks.)

When you spend your formative years a quarter mile off the road, Trick or Treating becomes a bit tricky. My parents didn't really understand it, either, "It sounds like begging. If you need candy, we'll buy it for you. And you don't."

Needless to say, I wholeheartedly embraced Hallowe'en later in life. But it broke my heart one year, when I dressed up as Marilyn Munroe. I'm 5'10", and in my 4-inch silver spikes, I was 6'2", heavily made up and standing at the bar when a diminutive little witch said to her friend, "Oh my Gawd! That's a GIRL!"

Can you imagine anything worse for a wannabe Marilyn than being mistaken for a guy in drag? Me, neither.

So, like most Hallowe'ens, I will spend this one with the house lights off, hiding out in my hot tub in the back yard.
With gin.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Country Drive-By

My mom has been 'flagged' again. It's a ritual that's been going on four years now and I think it's so touching and kind, but that it also says something amazing about the community in which she lives.

My Dad died four years ago this week, and every year or so, someone, someone with a ladder or a tractor or something tall, installs a brand-new Canadian flag on the pole at the entrance to our family farm. The flagpole isn't one of those jobbies with the rope that lets you lower or raise the flag; it's a fixed thing, pretty high up.

Replacing the aging flags had been my dad's job, and that first terrible year, we were preparing to call my brother to help with it when the new flag just... appeared one day. Each year now, just as the flag starts to look a titch shabby, someone replaces it. It happens when mom's away, and while it must take a bit of time to do, no one has ever told her who is responsible for the drive by.

The 'flagging' reminds me of a paper I read in my school days comparing and contrasting the rituals of different cultures when it comes to wedding gifts.

In the culture I inhabit, wedding gifts are a private matter between the giver and the recipent, delivered in wrapping paper or in an envelope to hide the gift from others' prying eyes. The exchange, and the relationship is only between the individual couple and the giver.

But in a prairie culture whose name escapes me now, I'm thinking Hutterite perhaps, the wedding gifts are always cash, and always very public. Everyone -except- the couple receiving the gift knows what's been given by whom. People come up to the bride as she and the groom dance, and clip or pin money to the back of her dress. The couple knows only the total, and their gratitude therefore flows to the entire community at large. The relationship is between the community and the couple. The gratitude from the newly married must flow to all, since there's no way to know who gave what, only the total. It's a very big difference from the individual, one-on-one relationship.

And that's the kind of thing that's going on in Clearview township. The community is looking after its own. There are likely a dozen or so people who probably know who's being so kind, but Mom doesn't know, so her gratitude necessarily flows to everyone. And, if the system works the way it ought to, she'll pay back the kindness, also anonymously to someone else in the community who could use some help. No one writes it down or keeps score, but it's a cool dynamic that keeps kindness going and I'm grateful for it, too.

Monday, October 24, 2011

When in Doubt...

...brazen it out!

I'm not sure who coined that phrase, but I decided to employ it as a technique in this weekend's Georgian Bay Reads, and I was shocked to discover, it really works!

Yes, after three years of being kicked out early, I finally defended a winning entry in the annual local literary smackdown.

Anne-Marie MacDonald's Fall on Your Knees is a dark tale, and I think I won the thing with my wholehearted embrace of its darkness, using humour.

I came up with a mantra that I repeated any chance I got, saying that Georgian Bay should read my choice because it contained treachery, depravity, obsession, attempted murder, accidental murder, lust, incest, miscegenation, lesbianism, incest, babies, suicide and JAZZ.

I turned the arguments against my book into arguments for it, and finally won.

Next year, I get to host the event, so at least I don't have to battle my way through the books. I get to watch the book battle as it happens.

But until then, the local libraries suggest you read Anne-Marie MacDonald's Fall on your Knees, it's dark, with treachery, depravity, obsession.... you get the drill.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Read Ready

I've made it through all five books in this year's Georgian Bay Reads competition, and I think this year's field is the most impressive yet.

If you're not familiar with it, Georgian Bay Reads has each library in our area choose a Canadian novel they think we should all curl up with this fall. The five 'defenders', one from each library, will argue the relative merits of each novel, and after several rounds of good-natured scrapping and voting, we'll have a winner.

I suspect my own selection has given some of the other 'defenders' some pause.
Fall on Your Knees was the first novel by Anne-Marie MacDonald. Previously, she had been a playwright. It's long, it's gritty and the subject matter ranges from racism to homophobia to incest mixed in with accidental murder of babies, some teenage prostitution and some gruesome accounts of the madness of The Great War thrown in there. In the end, it's the story of survival after pride leads to a big fall. It's not for the faint of heart, but it's very, very well written. The way MacDonald describes what it takes for a person to return from war is the first time I feel I have a true, albeit small glimmer of understanding of what a soldier copes with when they return to 'real' life.

My dark choice is up against some much lighter-hearted fare: Farley Mowat's young-adult classic, Lost in the Barrens, Yann Martel's Life of Pi, Marilyn Simonds' The Holding, and Dorris Heffron's City Wolves.

In their own way, each is a survival story.

I just hope to survive past the first or second round.

Georgian Bay Reads is on Saturday night at the Collingwood Library at 7 p.m. It's free to attend, and I sure could use your support.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

How's about you Occupy a Ballot Booth?

I understand the urge to protest, to want to be part of something groovy and exciting and perhaps world-changing. I remember with a cringe the yellow overalls I wore as I sat in front of the US embassy on University Avenue in 1990, shouting, "Hell, no, we won't go, We won't fight for Texaco!".

For the record, I do think there is something fundamentally wrong with the way our current system functions; it certainly does appear sometimes like the system is rigged.

That said, I have some questions for the Occupy people:

1. Have you ever voted? I ask because it kind of wrecks your argument that democracy isn't working if you haven't yet participated in it.

2. Do you work? (writing that really hard paper on the juxtaposition of Scottish peasant feminism and the patriarchal nature of the original Greeks in third year doesn't count.) I ask because it kind of wrecks your argument about our financial system if you haven't yet participated in it.

3. Do you think it helps your cause that in pretty much every picture taken of your encampment, someone's smoking a joint?

4. Did you know the farmers who grow the local and organic food you love to gush about have to import workers from the Caribbean? I'm thinking there might be work for all, if some of us actually do some of it.

5. Who was wielding the credit card when it was racking all that debt you're complaining about? And what did you do with all that crap you bought knowing you couldn't pay for it?

I'm just askin'.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Race Day

Happily, my only goal for today's Blue Mountain Half Marathon 5K is finishing the damn thing. Hopefully before dinnertime. I have no illusions about my speed; my biggest goal being to make a memory with my niece, nephew, brother and sister in law.

Oh, and not to freeze to death or drown.

I'm SO glad the rain got itself out of its system yesterday and Friday because there really is nothing worse than running in a pounding rain.

While I've been getting ready for this event for several months now, the last few days' lead-up has been a bit anti climactic. My darling dog got suddenly sick a week ago and the very people I was using this experience to bond with have announced they're decamping to Australia, so the race began to pale somewhat in importance. The move to OZ also puts my dream of 'running race as family tradition' on hold.

All that said, there's been more gained from this experience than I intended. I started a journey to bond with my family and instead have found a sport I complain about but love, or at least, have become somewhat addicted to. I certainly feel strange and lethargic if I don't run on schedule.

It's not going to snow or rain today. I'll get to wear my new long-sleeved shirt with the cool, look-at-me-I'm-a-runner thumbholes in the cuffs, and I'm making at least one memory with my beloveds. I'm down 22 pounds and my legs have never looked better or felt stonger. All in all, I'll label this a win, even if I finish dead last.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Best and Worst Thanksgiving Ever

There just aren't enough words to describe the awesomeness of the weekend weather. I simply cannot remember a weekend like this in my life.

We have all seen Thanksgivings with rain, with snow, with sleet and hail, but seven straight days of plus- 25 and sunshine? I'll take it!

I hosted my inlaws on Monday, with a lamb raised not twenty miles away, and thank you Jamie Oliver, for the recipe which turned out perfectly. We dined early to accommodate work schedules, but had drinks on the deck and great conversation.

Saturday was a daylong Thanksgiving extravaganza with my side of the family and a special guest. My 'little' brother's family is playing host to a young student from China. She goes by Alice, but I'm very sure that's not her actual name. Alice is one of 30 kids who have come to Ontario for a month-long home stay. She's ten. Can you imagine being brave enough to travel all the way to the other side of the planet for a month at the tender age of ten? She speaks very little English, and lives in Beijing, where I'm pretty sure she's never seen a cow or an apple tree, but she wasn't afraid to take part in most of the activities we got up to, including a haywagon ride to the 'secret' waterfall, and down a closed road. She wasn't interested in our casual 5K run, though.

And that's the highlight of my weekend: running with my 10 year old niece on a country road with the leaves at full colour, the sun hot and her shouting to me as we crested the final hill together, "Leave it all on the track, Auntie Missy! Leave it all on the track! You can do it!"

The lowlight of the magnificent weekend is the news that this bright and beautiful child and her bright and beautiful family will be unavailable for a hayride or a run with me next Thanksgiving or the year after that. They have an unbelievable, once in a lifetime opportunity and they are going to take it. They're moving to Australia for two, maybe five years. I'm so excited for them, but I'm ashamed to admit I'm a teensy bit, selfishly, heartbroken, too.

Here's hoping they have 5K family races in Brisbane. I'll have to start training for a long flight.

Behind and Scared

I have a confession to make about this year's Georgian Bay Reads: I'm way, way behind in my preparations. Once again, I'm representing the Wasaga Beach public library in the annual literary smackdown, but oh, boy, I might be in some big trouble here.

I've spent so much time with running magazines the last while, I haven't even cracked two of the five selections.
As for my own choice, I read and loved it, and chose it from the list provided to me by readers in Wasaga Beach, but I haven't had a chance to re-read it and get ready to defend it as the book we should all read this year.

Eeek.

My selection, if you want to slip me a cheat-sheet, is Fall on your Knees, by Anne Marie MacDonald, whose work I just love love love. This particular novel is very dark with some really disturbing themes, but in the end, is about survival, if not triumph. At least, I think it is.... I have got to get down to work here.