borrowing bones

The occasional weblog of writer Dora Dueck

A string of December thoughts

I meant to gather some reflections on winter, sew some meaning through them as a Christmas wish for you, my readers, but already I know I can’t pull it off. So how about I just hang a string of disjointed thoughts (in mostly muted colors) and thank you in advance for receiving them as is.

A Child’s Death

On Sunday we got the terrible news that our nephew’s nine-year-old son in Paraguay (where my husband’s family lives) was killed in a motorcycle accident. How these things happen: the father and his son riding home after a bit of a visit elsewhere in the (farming) village, the mother emerging from their driveway in the car at the very moment they reached it,  he braking, the bike flipping and the child was under it and with a last gasp his life ended. The funeral was this morning. The father is the age of our oldest son, they played together when we lived in Paraguay, they have children the same age. “There are no words I can write that will make this better,” our son wrote his cousin, “but please know that you are in our thoughts and prayers.” There are no words indeed. Read the rest of this entry »

On P.D. James and Canada Reads

sc00116eaaNews of writer P.D. James’ death this week, at 94, sent me to her books in the “J” section of my shelves and then to an hour or so paging about in her memoir, Time to be in Earnest, re-reading bits, savouring details of her activities (the book is written as a diary August 1997 to August 1998 into which she also weaves her memories) and her reactions (the death of Princess Diana that first August, for example: “disbelief, as if….Death has power over lesser mortals but not this icon….The process of beatification was well under way by the end of the day…”). Savoring everything, in fact, because of her wonderfully intelligent, generous voice. I remember how very much I enjoyed reading this book some years ago, and the hours of pleasure with her other books as well. I’ve not read them all by any means, but a good number, including the memorable The Children of Men. And I’ve never forgotten the last paragraph of A Taste of Death: Read the rest of this entry »

On the Canadian writers’ blog tour

Sally Ito tagged me for a stop on the Canadian writers’ blog tour. More about the tour in a moment, but first about Sally. She’s  a Winnipeg writer of poetry (most recently Alert to Glory), memoir, and non-fiction, as well as teacher, translator, and artist (see her “tour” posts at Sally’s Visualandia). She often writes a haiku as her Facebook status, like this evocatively colorful one:

On the window sill
replacing ripe tomatoes
empty blue bottle

Now about the tour. Someone described the Canadian writers’ blog tour as a chain letter for writers–except that there’s no threat of misfortune should it be broken! I don’t know who started it or all the places it’s gone, though a google search uncovers some of its  pathways. Essentially one answers four questions, and then tags another writer or two for a further stop.

So, welcome to my place on the tour, and here goes: Read the rest of this entry »

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