Posts

Three years in: Words and numbers paint the picture

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02.24.2022 / 02.24.2023 02.24.2023 / 02.24.2024 02.24.2024 / 02.25.2025 Today = 1,097 days since Putin invaded Ukraine I have written about the invasion of Ukraine three times : just after it began, then on the first anniversary, then again on the second anniversary, and now again on the third anniversary. I wish this were not so. I wish there were no anniversaries of this horror. And, yet, here we are. On March 14, 2022 , I began with fortitude and naivety — and with “Lists for leaving”: For a long time, I have not watched the evening news. But these days, I am watching it every evening. The images compel me. I am not living them, so the least I can do is witness them ... On February 21, 2023, I moved to persistence and disbelief , wanting to “edit the world”: To take my blue pencil, strike out February 24, 2022, put a line through Moscow and Putin, emphasize Ukraine in BOLD ALL CAPS, give it its own page, its own boundaries, insert ‘free from’ in front of invasion, replace tanks and...

Three ways to deal with a mouse

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One way One morning at the cottage, I was still in bed when the cats came chasing through the bedroom. I paid attention fast. Sit up. Listen. Watch. See what is happening. Fun and games or… something else? Uh oh. Something else altogether. A chase, a real chase. Two cats after one mouse. Now I could make out the squeaking, squealing of the poor little rodent. And then, before I knew what I was doing, I heard myself squeal, too. “Ewwwww. Val!!!!! It’s a mouse. ”  And I scooted further up into the bed, away from the sides. (Oh boy. Talk about reacting like a cartoon female, but it happened before I knew what I was doing; don’t judge. I’m still trying to forgive myself.) Val corralled the mouse, trapped it in a jar, and took it outside — back to nature where it belonged. Another way One evening at the cottage, again, there was a noise. No squealing this time, but a sort of tiny rattling. I heard it, but it was Val who walked into the kitchen and saw a mouse scrabbling down the microwa...

Memory lane: not always happy, but, when happy, a good place to wander

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Memories can live anywhere. Some we keep happily in the place that best keeps them alive, while others lurk in the shadows, niggling away at us, whether we want them to or not. One that niggles at me is the heartless way in which, many years ago, I reacted to a young man’s cry for help in a shopping mall entrance way. I was busy on my round of errands and brushed off his plea, not wanting to connect with someone who, in retrospect, I realize  was in emotional distress of some kind and who, likely, just needed a friendly person to offer a helping hand. But I pulled my metaphorical armour tightly around me and kept walking. I re-live the feeling of my own ignorance every time I enter that same mall these days. If only I could go back to re-do that moment… A happier memory lies in wait for me whenever I open my writing-desk drawer. That is where I keep a few of the mementos I have from my paternal grandmother: a silver case with her initials on it — a case that likely held carefully r...

Among the world's chaos, I invite you to celebrate two commitments

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Amanda across the ages: about four; in my early 20s (hair!); and now, in my mid-sixties. During my university days, a roommate and I planned a party. We invited people to come over on a Friday evening to celebrate our new apartment. The time came, the place was ready, and we waited. And waited. No one showed up. No one. Not one person. While this hardly counts as trauma, it was disappointing and it scarred the party-planner in me. I’ve never wanted to repeat the experience of all that buildup and expectation followed by all that letdown. I have hosted the odd large-group gathering since then, but I have never been able to shake the spectre of that no-show Friday evening from so long ago. February is my birthday month, so that spectre is particularly vivid as I consider how to mark my birthday. Short story: There will be no party. The longer story is more complex. Living in this world, I am part of what goes on in it, however minuscule my impact on it, or contribution to it, might be. T...

Reaching for hope in a challenging world

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Well, here we are, in the new tomorrow. Hard stuff going on   there always is These days   so much of it Wishes are easy   blow on the dandelion Resistance is hard alone is impossible Hands are warm two   by two by two But... How do you see them?  Use them?  Connect through them? Her hand Her hand fits nicely with mine, the perfect size one for the other’s,  but indoors only, never outdoors. The most natural act in the world  hand holding  is not natural to me, to us. This inhibition, this constraint dates me — us — as old,  as older dykes who lived — have always lived — in the shadows.  Bolder these days, we live beyond the shadows but do we hold each other’s hand outside? Beyond these walls? We could. (There are laws.) Do we want to? (There is acceptance.)  We might. (We know ourselves.)  Perhaps it takes more than knowing,  than being able to,  even after all these years,  to feel nat...

Help us build The Valiant Theatre: fundraising event No. 2

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There is no executive order and sharpie signature for the arts.  There is only hard work and persistence  to create imaginative responses to the world in which we live.  That is why The Valiant Theatre crew is back with our second fundraising event  on Saturday February 8th -- an evening of eclectic local talent,  ranging from improv theatre to singer songwriters  and sitar players.  To me, it will all be new. But what will feel like coming home is the energy of the artists transporting the audience into an evening-long world where joy exists by  creating music and laughter, comedy and joy -- together.  UPDATE : We have raised just over $30,000 of the (minimum) $100,000 we need to bring 376 Logan Avenue back to life. We continue to do the hard work of trudging through City permits and engineer reports; oh, what artists must do to have a community place to perform! We are committed to checking off every last detail before opening the doors t...