What I did today (Jan. 20)

Posted on January 20, 2025 by doradueck

The sun rose as usual this Monday morning, with a gentle coral hue that turned briefly pinker and then resolved into the yellowish cast of regular sunshine. Not a regular Monday morning, though, I remembered as soon as I woke. I couldn’t help it: my brain was like an alarm clock, signalling that the inauguration would soon be underway in Washington D.C. I’d already decided that, like Michelle Obama, I would not attend, though of course I had no invitation to do so in person, only the voracious maw of television inviting me in.

It wasn’t that hard, actually, to resist the watching. I find it deeply unpleasant to see or hear the new president; I won’t bother rehearsing the reasons. But not thinking about it at all, well, that was harder. But I had my coffee, did my morning reading, ate breakfast, began to tackle today’s tasks.

High on the list was the need to dust. I’m very happy in my Tsawwassen apartment but honestly, I’ve never lived in a place (besides the Chaco of Paraguay in the season of wind) that gets dusty as quickly as this one, dust particles rising from the open rail cars of coal coming to the nearby port, I’ve been told, and of course when it’s beautifully sunny like today, the dust layers are even more obvious. So I did that, and I vacuumed too, and also, I attended a Livestream event with Rebecca Solnit and some guests, deliberately scheduled for this day. It scarcely referenced what was happening (besides the comment that the empty Washington Mall seemed a metaphor), but offered analysis and ideas about moving forward. She and her guests talked about resistance with tenderness, choosing a world of abundance rather than scarcity, spending time with art and music. One said, “Despair is a room we move through,” and another, in the words of the spiritual, “Ain’t gonna let nobody steal my joy.” All this and more. It was encouraging. (It can be viewed on YouTube as “The Way We Get Through This is Together.”)

While listening, I was working on a jigsaw puzzle. Puzzling is when I listen to podcasts or the like. One favourite is the CBC podcast “Front Burner,” a daily short (less than half an hour) conversation with an expert about some issue in the news. A podcast I’ve recently discovered is “What Matters Most” with host John Martens. There are more than 50 episodes to select from, including fascinating matters such as “Reading gender in Revelation” and “Leonard Cohen and the Apostle Paul.” When I walk, my podcast of choice is “This American Life,” stories that fill up about an hour, the perfect length for a walk.

It’s still January, so perhaps I can mention that while I don’t generally make resolutions, I did determine to read Melville’s Moby-Dick this year, and I’m doing it, two chapters a day, and quite enjoying it. Other books I’ve read recently and warmly recommend are Orbital by Samantha Harvey, Clara Reads Proust by Stephane Carlier, and Clear by Carlys Davies. And I’m through Part V of Jon Fosse’s 7-part Septology, which might not be to everyone’s taste, but which I find strangely mesmerizing and compelling.

And since it’s still January, I wish you all a very happy New Year.

How did YOU spend this (historically significant) Monday?

Always Something to Miss

Posted on December 12, 2024 by doradueck

Feeling a little sad this morning, as it’s the last day of my month in Toronto. It’s been a wonderful month, so quickly — it seems — gone! When I came I raked leaves, which I enjoyed thoroughly, no longer in possession of a yard myself, and since then it’s cooled and even snowed (though the snow was rained away) and Christmas decorations now adorn the neighbourhood.

There have been special events (birthdays and the musical “Come from Away”) and ordinary ones, memorable day by day. Also, because this was a longer visit, I was able to get in a few meet-ups with other people: professor emeritus and writer Magdalene Redekop (Making Believe); friends from Winnipeg days, now in St. Catherines, the wise and wonderful Doug and Annie Schulz; avid reader (and supporter of writers via her blog “Pickle Me This” and 49th Shelf) and writer Kerry Clare. Nourishing conversations, all of them, of the kind that make one paradoxically hungry for more!

First on the agenda when I get home will be to put up the tree and festoon my own apartment with Christmasy matter, as well as re-connect with my Tsawwassen family (including attending a performance of Handel’s Messiah with oldest granddaughter) and my local friends. This is lovely anticipation. But I will miss my Toronto family a lot, and this place too.

“There is always something to miss,” says Sarah in Sarah, Plain and Tall, one of the books I read to the two youngest here, “no matter where you are.” Always, sadly and true, because “where you are” is one place at a time.

Where I Am Now

Posted on November 17, 2024 by doradueck

Since the basement suite at my Toronto son’s home is currently between renters, he and my daughter-in-law and I decided this would be a perfect time for me to come and stay longer than my usual visits. I left Vancouver yesterday morning and arrived in the evening to a warm welcome. I’ll be here a month.

On the flight I watched a movie: Young Woman and the Sea, based on the true story of Trudy Ederle, the first woman to swim the English Channel. I found myself choking up at numerous points, which surprised me, because although it’s well done and inspiring, it’s also a fairly predictable triumph-over-adversity narrative. Why was my emotional skin so thin that every little thing in the movie threatened to puncture it?

I discerned that perhaps even more than I’d been aware of, I was discouraged by the recent U.S. election, especially in matters concerning women. It felt as if the formidable challenges Trudy Ederle faced as a female in sports in the 1920s were standing in for the resurgence of an ugly cultural misogyny.

Perhaps the anticipation of inhabiting the exact space Helmut and I did more than eight years ago was part of it too. After we packed our Winnipeg belongings into a storage pod, spring 2016, we came to Toronto for two-plus months, living in the basement. Helmut helped son Peter wall off the area for the current two-room apartment. My sister, whose husband died several years before mine, once observed, “You get used to it.” And it’s true, eventually you do. It would actually be awful if one didn’t get used to things. Nevertheless, anticipation of a return to the space we (and then I) had not been in again since 2016 (because it was renter-occupied) seemed to be triggering sad nostalgia.

The Toronto house I’m in. (By Natalie Czerwinski.)

Once inside it, however, I was slightly disoriented and realized that the space had subtly altered in my memory. I have a strong sense of places I’ve lived, but obviously it’s far from infallible. As I settled into the specifics of the present — one twin bed in the room, not two squished together, and the addition of a desk and chair and some other furniture — the memories became clearer and re-arranged themselves, and I was happy about them and also ready to enjoy being here with the children and three granddaughters — semi-independent but connected — and to work on a couple of small writing projects as well as help along in whatever ways I can. My emotional skin feels thicker; there’s fresh courage in this space.