Five Years a Writer

Love in the Archives by Eileen Vorbach Collins Baltimore, MD: Apprentice House Nov. 7 2023 Posted to Amazon It seems crass to say I enjoyed this memoir-in-essays, given that it’s about how Eileen Vorbach Collins finds her way back into — and keeps herself in — the land of the living following her daughter Lydia’s death by suicide. But I did, and there is much to appreciate: the award-winning writing; the unvarnished truth about the bone-deep grief she continues to feel; and the grounding of her experience in the everyday. Vorbach Collins’ essays make clear that being present to the quotidian — mothering her younger son, Daniel; returning to work; finding her way into support groups; continuing to breathe even while screaming her anguish at unexpected moments — is the challenge after her cataclysmic loss. Vorbach Collins uses writing as a way to process her grief and her experience of living with that grief, still, more than twenty years after the death of her daughter. I am grateful s...

Bread and roses, bread and roses...   Advice for a woman wanting to live free in 2024 Learn independence early, for it is addictive. Live in the gaps between the stories. Don’t take NO for an answer. Dance in the face of your fear. The only real freedom is freedom from fear. There is no gate, no lock, no bolt, that you can set upon the freedom of your mind. Then & now I spent my 'gap' year  between high school and university working as a nanny  in Grenoble, France. One time, returning from a weekend away, I walked home  from the train station after midnight. It was not fun, but walking was the only option. It wasn’t far to the flat; my host family was not responsible for picking me up; and, for some reason, I couldn’t or wouldn’t take a taxi. I made it home without incident and climbed the ancient stone stairs at the back of the building and into the safety of my room and my bed. I was young, just turned 18, and I was fine. I am considerably older ...

Amanda ( in blue jacket ), way back in her sporty days, possibly in Switzerland, circa 1965 When I was about five or six maybe, it was time for me to stop sucking my thumb. My clever mother induced me to change my behaviour by making me a star chart: Every day of not sticking my thumb into my mouth (sounds horrid to me now, but I remember vividly the sense of comfort I derived from it — paired with my super soft blankie rubbing against my cheek ….mmmmmmm, so lovely) — every day of not engaging in that particular form of soothing behaviour would earn me a small gold star. A full week of such grown-up behaviour would earn me a BIG gold star at the end of the line. And a full month got me… something, I don’t remember what, maybe a set of roller skates or a pack of gum. The big payoff, I think, was not as important to me as those daily and weekly gold stars. Small shiny things that marked my daily progress in a visually accountable way. The method worked. I stopped sucking my thumb. And...

In dark times Will there also be singing? Yes, there will be singing. About the dark times. from “Motto” by Bertolt Brecht We are in dark times. Though I cannot sing (in tune), I can write and I do write, so that is what I am doing in these dark times. Writing about these dark times. The world is witnessing the beginning of Year Three of Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. With 31,000 Ukrainian soldiers killed so far and countless civilians dead or maimed, I wonder how much worse it can get. Of course, actually, the world has already gotten a whole lot worse with the October 7 invasion of Israel by Hamas last year. A stark and bloody reminder that dark times can always get darker. How to survive? For those fortunate enough by happenstance of birth to be nowhere close to those two conflicts (only two of 80  in the world today  according to the Geneva Academy ), I believe it’s important to be aware of the magnitude, to witness the horror, to hold the victims in our heart, and to keep ...

My friend Kevin is moving way up north; he and his wife are driving across four provinces to reach their new life and I am with them — in my mind. Their journey is bringing memories flooding back of my own cross-province trip almost four decades ago when I moved from Alberta to Nova Scotia. In a Toyota Tercel. Packed full of possessions that did not include a bed. Or a table. Or a chair. Those were the days.  My former partner (FP) and I were young, open to adventure and keen, so keen, to begin this new chapter in our lives, precipitated by her first post-PhD job offer. 1986: Halifax is where beautiful Bountiful came into my life. We arrived in Halifax after a week of driving and, after just two days of serious home hunting, found a lovely second-floor flat overlooking Bedford Basin. We slept on the floor, used a Pepsi crate as our ‘dining’ table, and, after a little while, gratefully borrowed a sofa and armchair from our friendly landlords who took pity on us and who, quickly and...

The men were so invested in how it had always been that they couldn’t see past their own habits to imagine a new way of managing the system. But the women could. They knew the old-boys gerontocracy had lasted several generations too long, so they took out Donald at the Supreme Court.*  They let Joe exit with dignity. Hillary welcomed AOC , who consulted with some of  the youngest female political leaders in the world  ( Sanna and Mette and Kaja and Katrin ) and, together with supporters of all ages and colours and genders and visions, they breathed new life into US politics. If only it were so… * This tiny story is just a fantasy, but, sometimes impossible things happen in real life; for the moment, this is where that is at.  ........................................... ................................................................... To receive my weekly blogpost in your inbox, use the SUBSCRIBE feature (above, in the left-hand column), ...

THINGS I KNOW : Val loves me. I can write. I love teaching in the community about writing. I enjoy walking and riding my bike in the sunshine. It is restorative to just sit and enjoy the view across the lake at the cottage. Not all issues can be solved by politicians. It is pure joy (on several levels) to see Manitoba’s Premier Wab Kinew read books to children during I LOVE TO READ month. Freedom is complicated and requires both an open mind and a courageous heart. Finding our way in this world involves both pain and joy; both confident strides and tentative steps; both absolute assuredness and awkward fumblings — these are the ways of fragile fallible humans. Having loving parents, supportive friends and non-judgemental teachers and counsellors in schools is vital to a child’s healthy development. Asking questions is key to learning. Talking about difficult subjects is taxing and absolutely vital for knowing who we are and how we can best live day to day and over the longer term. Con...