Five Years a Writer

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May. Between high school and university, I spent about eight months in France — a transformative experience for me. I remember the time now, all these years later, in fragments and moments, more or less intense, a tapestry of stories that help inform who I am today. Haiku was a fun form to play with to describe a few of those moments; while each one can stand alone, together, the fuller story is told.   ------ Gap year. World awaits. Paris: Streets. Cafes. Art. Wine. Food surprises: Prawns!  Eyes and ears open. Tongue loosens. Confidence grows. No relatives. Me!  Next stop: Grenoble. Baby to mind. Au pair job.  New to me: Diapers!  Christmas in the Alps. Chalet. Jean-Francois my crush. Not returned. Hopes dashed!  Then, 18. Grown up. Home late. Streets so dark. Alone.  No bus. No choice. Scared.  But gap year: Grown up.  “Say yes.” Exploring all things.  Outside. I

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May.  “Know your mind,  and why and how you’re doing  what matters to you.  And keep going.”  Nancy Pelosi,  Speaker of US House of Representatives  (79 years of age)   I read this good advice from Nancy Pelosi on Sara Paretsky 's Facebook page a while back, and it has stayed in my mind. It is especially pertinent these days, I think, when so much information and misinformation is floating around, wanting to divert us from our plans and pervert our way of thinking.  But that’s not to say it’s easy advice to follow; it isn’t.  It takes effort and intention to know one’s mind, and it takes fortitude to persist with what one comes to know .  Clarity of individual mind is the crucial first step that leads to public action and civic engagement.  This is why, four decades after I first started, I continue to speak out on abortion rights and reproductive choice:  I know my mind on this matter, and have known si

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May. I am working on several pieces for posting, but none is ready for sharing just yet. I hope to produce some more haiku and possibly a limerick (thanks for the idea, Nancy!), a rant about clothes, cat stories, ramblings about routine, and more.   In the meantime and because the world is crazy mad this week (draconian abortion laws in Alabama, anyone?), let’s sidestep the hard stuff today and have a little interlude in Pleasant Valley, shall we? Of writing and books : Take a wander to an estate sale in New Hampshire that offers, via the writer who describes it, some lessons worth pondering about poets, the writing life and owning books. Writing Lessons . Making the point in colour : A city politician in Montreal is using red and green yarn to illustrate how much more men talk at the mic than women do. During council meetings, Sue Montgomery is knitting with red yarn when men speak, and with green yarn when w

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May. My post last week about busyness and doing nothing brought several responses from readers who riffed on the general idea of work and activity, and one person mentioned the act of worrying. So much time spent worrying about yesterday’s behaviour, today’s work and tomorrow’s expectations. The work world, with its hectic pace and expectations of relentless productivity, fairly breeds the seeds of worry.   I think it’s probably unavoidable to worry. Maybe it’s in our DNA, just part of being human. But I also think it’s worth trying to manage it, to contain it.  A friend once told me she had “designated worry time” every day. If it was inevitable to worry, she at least would do it only for a specified period of time: 15 minutes in the morning, then stop. STOP WORRYING. Move on.  I liked the idea then, and I still like it today. It’s not as if worrying is productive, as if it produces anything other than more a

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May. I’m feeling a little lost, a little sad, these days without my friends from the ASK talent agency in Paris to keep me company. I’ve become invested in their professional work and their personal relationships, and I miss them.   Yes, it’s ‘only’ a show on Netflix, but what a show. Call My Agent is three seasons of smart dialogue, laugh-out-loud moments of human foibles, and the gorgeousness of daily life in Paris. Oh my goodness, the style, the architecture, the language, the drinking — if it’s not ‘un petit cafe’ it’s ‘une coupe de champagne’ (the agency is well stocked). I’ve enjoyed the story lines, which always feature big-name French actors who play themselves in the world of film and which weave in the evolving relationships among the agency partners, their assistants, their clients, and their families.  There is drama and tension. There is comedy and poignancy. And there is such fine acting as only, it

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May. I’m the birdbrain in the family, and Val is the birder. Anything I know about birds, or any birds that I can identify, is thanks to her. She came into our relationship with a love of birds, vast knowledge and many years’ experience watching them, listening for them and identifying them.   At first, I’ll admit, I didn’t get the attraction or the point. But Val’s excitement at hearing the first Whitethroated Sparrow of the season and then of sighting it, of identifying a more unusual bird, and of enjoying feeding them, both at the cottage and in the city, eventually infected me, and I now join in the enthusiasm of birdwatching. While I don’t have the patience that Val brings to the activity, I do now share the general interest.  On my own, I can easily identify the more commonplace birds, such as the three sizes of woodpecker — Downy, Hairy, and Pileated. I use my parents’ naming convention for the untold numbe

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May.  I have never seriously contemplated being a mother. I did go through a stage in my early feminism when I would say, to anyone foolish enough to ask about my procreative plans, that I was planning on having six children. My reply would stop the conversation in its tracks, which was precisely my intention.  I have not had children, but I have a spectacular mother: Anne. My mum is still going strong as she approaches her 91st  birthday this coming November. Today, on Mother’s Day, I celebrate her and some of what she has given me.  Unconditional love : Always and consistently, I have known that I was loved for who I am, through and through. No conditions have ever been placed on me in order to receive the love of my mother. And she has extended this loving approach, without exception, to the friends and partners I’ve brought home with me. The wisdom of her experience : When I was preparing to leave for m