Saturday, May 3, 2014
LIfe Stories at U of T is a go
Dear students, I'm sorry to say that my course at Ryerson has almost definitely been cancelled. For some reason, registration was very low this term. Sometimes there are too many and sometimes not enough - no way to know why. I haven't had the official word, but I'm pretty sure.
HOWEVER - Life Stories, my class at U of T, is definitely a go. It starts this coming Tuesday at 6.30; you can find the link to U of T on this website under Teaching, and the course is under Non-fiction. It's more expensive than Ryerson but the classrooms are way cooler and the classes generally smaller - more individual focus. I hope those of you who want to work with me this term will register.
See you Tuesday.
AND … here's the nightmare, now that a provincial election is underway - that before long, we miserable creatures who live in Toronto will have Ford as Mayor, Hudak as Premier and Harper as PM. Could it get worse than that? The answer is a resounding NO.
HOWEVER - Life Stories, my class at U of T, is definitely a go. It starts this coming Tuesday at 6.30; you can find the link to U of T on this website under Teaching, and the course is under Non-fiction. It's more expensive than Ryerson but the classrooms are way cooler and the classes generally smaller - more individual focus. I hope those of you who want to work with me this term will register.
See you Tuesday.
AND … here's the nightmare, now that a provincial election is underway - that before long, we miserable creatures who live in Toronto will have Ford as Mayor, Hudak as Premier and Harper as PM. Could it get worse than that? The answer is a resounding NO.
we were all lello
Jesus I wish the sun would shine. This constant cloud and drizzle is bleak and oppressive. The day did not turn out as planned: my daughter's life is in some upheaval, and her brother had to go to work and could not make it to lunch. All was not bliss.
Except for some. Who wanted to try on Blamma's boots.
We spent lots of time looking at colours - lello, bloo, ret, wide. So much lello. And there were huge construction machines outside including a backhoe! And then a firetruck! Amazing and wonderful. Lello and ret.
Anna told me that reading my memoir is hard for her because she didn't realize I was so unhappy that year. Well - I got over it, my darling, and then I had you - what could be better? She is outraged that we're wasting time thinking about Rob Ford when there's so much wrong in the world needing our attention. Hundreds of girls kidnapped in Sudan and we're going on about him? she raged.
I could not agree more.
The other day, as I walked past my neighbour's recycling, I saw what had been tossed there:
I could not resist. Now I am the proud owner of a Gucci shopping bag and shoebox. That's as close as I will come, or ever want to come, to a $650 pair of shoes.
A new version for Coldplay:
I came along,
I wrote a song for you,
And all the things you do,
And it was called "Lello".
Except for some. Who wanted to try on Blamma's boots.
Anna told me that reading my memoir is hard for her because she didn't realize I was so unhappy that year. Well - I got over it, my darling, and then I had you - what could be better? She is outraged that we're wasting time thinking about Rob Ford when there's so much wrong in the world needing our attention. Hundreds of girls kidnapped in Sudan and we're going on about him? she raged.
I could not agree more.
The other day, as I walked past my neighbour's recycling, I saw what had been tossed there:
A new version for Coldplay:
I came along,
I wrote a song for you,
And all the things you do,
And it was called "Lello".
birthday
A special morning in downtown Toronto - the Don Valley Parkway is closed for maintenance all day, so it's mystically quiet. It's grey and raining, of course, as it has been for days - which means that things are coming up in the garden, green things - tulips nearly ready to burst, the willow branches covered with pale yellow. Upstairs in my bedroom, the outdoor plants that winter indoors are also trying to come to life; even the bougainvillea is displaying a few shards of pink.
On this morning of May 3, thirty-three years ago in 1981, I was in bed in St. Mike's Hospital in downtown Vancouver holding a small pink and white bundle. Daughter Anna was born at 2.30 that morning under exceptional and even hilarious circumstances which I will one day recount. Healthy and alert with a squashed nose. Perfect. I was lost in love forever.
This morning I'm going to go for a walk in the neighbourhood in the rain and count my blessings. And then across town, to see the girl and her family and to take my two children and grandson and whoever else is there out to lunch. And then back to work on the next book.
Got out three library books yesterday: "Telling True Stories, a non-fiction writers' guide;" "A Writer's Paris," by Eric Maisel; and Gary Shteyngart's memoir "Little Failure." I look forward to reading them. But I'm also neck deep in "The Goldfinch," which friend Patsy gave me for Christmas and which is as good as they say it is.
Someday soon, here will come the sun. And I say - it's all right.
On this morning of May 3, thirty-three years ago in 1981, I was in bed in St. Mike's Hospital in downtown Vancouver holding a small pink and white bundle. Daughter Anna was born at 2.30 that morning under exceptional and even hilarious circumstances which I will one day recount. Healthy and alert with a squashed nose. Perfect. I was lost in love forever.
This morning I'm going to go for a walk in the neighbourhood in the rain and count my blessings. And then across town, to see the girl and her family and to take my two children and grandson and whoever else is there out to lunch. And then back to work on the next book.
Got out three library books yesterday: "Telling True Stories, a non-fiction writers' guide;" "A Writer's Paris," by Eric Maisel; and Gary Shteyngart's memoir "Little Failure." I look forward to reading them. But I'm also neck deep in "The Goldfinch," which friend Patsy gave me for Christmas and which is as good as they say it is.
Someday soon, here will come the sun. And I say - it's all right.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Alistair McLeod
Here's a great article on Ford - what he meant and how we feel. Very well captured and summarized by Edward Keenan.
www.thegridto.com/blog-post/rob-ford-steps-away-he-needs-to-stay-away
Even though I've been so busy today I've barely been outside the door, I can feel the city's new sense of peace and well-being from my kitchen. Anna called to say that as she walked home from the drop in she heard everyone talking, and that even those who before would have gone on blindly supporting Ford are saying, Too many lies. He should go.
He can't go far enough. How low can the bar be set in our political discourse? He has shown us - about as low as it is possible to go.
As the Jews say - Dayenu. More than enough.
I am sorry that in the flurry of everything else - coming home, the book, the weather - I have not expressed my condolences on the death of the wonderful writer Alistair McLeod. He was one of the teachers at the writer's conference in Siena, Italy, where I met Wayson, and I adored his impish sense of humour, his gentle self-deprecating tone, his ruddy face and twinkling eyes. He was a wise and generous friend and writer. A great loss for the country and for world literature.
Moving on. Had a meeting today with Don, the publisher of my memoir, about our next project which is nearly ready to go. It's a how-to book about writing memoir that I put together years ago for my students. Don seems to like it a lot. He proposes that we edit through May, send it out for layout and design in June, and hold the book in our hands by mid-August, to get it in bookstores before my September courses.
It took 25 years to research, write and bring out "Finding the Jewish Shakespeare." And now it's possible that I'll have two books out in one year. AT 63, I've never been so busy. There was a great quote on a website I was trolling through yesterday, a famous writer whose name I have forgotten asked the meaning of happiness, and she replied, "Meaningful work."
Absolutely.
www.thegridto.com/blog-post/rob-ford-steps-away-he-needs-to-stay-away
Even though I've been so busy today I've barely been outside the door, I can feel the city's new sense of peace and well-being from my kitchen. Anna called to say that as she walked home from the drop in she heard everyone talking, and that even those who before would have gone on blindly supporting Ford are saying, Too many lies. He should go.
He can't go far enough. How low can the bar be set in our political discourse? He has shown us - about as low as it is possible to go.
As the Jews say - Dayenu. More than enough.
I am sorry that in the flurry of everything else - coming home, the book, the weather - I have not expressed my condolences on the death of the wonderful writer Alistair McLeod. He was one of the teachers at the writer's conference in Siena, Italy, where I met Wayson, and I adored his impish sense of humour, his gentle self-deprecating tone, his ruddy face and twinkling eyes. He was a wise and generous friend and writer. A great loss for the country and for world literature.
Moving on. Had a meeting today with Don, the publisher of my memoir, about our next project which is nearly ready to go. It's a how-to book about writing memoir that I put together years ago for my students. Don seems to like it a lot. He proposes that we edit through May, send it out for layout and design in June, and hold the book in our hands by mid-August, to get it in bookstores before my September courses.
It took 25 years to research, write and bring out "Finding the Jewish Shakespeare." And now it's possible that I'll have two books out in one year. AT 63, I've never been so busy. There was a great quote on a website I was trolling through yesterday, a famous writer whose name I have forgotten asked the meaning of happiness, and she replied, "Meaningful work."
Absolutely.
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