Tuesday, June 9, 2020

9.30 a.m. and all's well

In bed, at 4 a.m., I thought: in the world right now there's a murderous pandemic, there are race riots and millions of people demonstrating about appalling systemic injustice, and you're moaning about having to clean your basement apartment.

I apologize. A little perspective here. My world has shrunk a great deal, as yours has, and so the importance of this house, which always looms huge in my saga, is bigger than ever. As you may know, I have no work pension and only a small government pension. My children are certainly not going to be able to support me in old age. This house is my security, my future, my health plan, my retirement residence, my nursing home. Not to mention providing comfort and memories going back 34 years. And vital income from tenants, who have almost aways been reliable and sane.

But still - perspective.

It's a beautiful tranquil Tuesday morning; there's a distant steady murmur of traffic, more than last month though still nowhere near normal level. Just birds in the trees and an overwhelming profusion of green. Today - joy! - two library books I've had on hold since the winter will be waiting for me in the parking lot of the building at precisely 11.30; I gather a librarian will be there, though I'm not sure exactly how this works. At 2, a Zoom talk with Judy about our books - BTW, all is not in any way resolved with the publisher, unbelievable as that may be. At 3, a Writer's Union webinar on maintaining a digital presence, and at 6.45, a surprise birthday party on Zoom for a writer colleague who's turning 70.

Oh - and I'm happy to report that the doc First We Eat was voted one of the top five audience favourites after the Hot Docs festival. Though a mutual friend, I wrote to the producer/director/star in the Yukon, Suzanne Crocker, and we've been corresponding. She says it meant a lot to hear from a super-fan in Toronto. Poor filmmakers, so much work on their films, and then no premiere gathering, no applause as feedback, just a silent audience at home on their computers or phones. Brutal.

It's an amazingly full life from right here, in my kitchen. Nothing, nothing to complain about.

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