joy to this little world

These don't come all that often - but this was too good a day not to celebrate with you. 

Anna and Holly came over this morning. In January they'll use a professional kitchen, but everything is booked over Xmas, so they were going to cook for 75 chez Anna, in her cramped kitchen. Come here, I said, my kitchen is bigger. So they did. We spent from 9.30 to 6 peeling, chopping, cooking, cleaning, stirring. Holly peeled, boiled, and mashed 50 pounds of donated potatoes. Anna and I, mostly Anna, chopped I'm sure as many pounds of donated cabbage that was fried, mixed with cooked meat and rice and tomatoes and baked. We had to mix it in a big storage tub, which still wasn't big enough. Most went into Anna's rented car, but there are 3 heavy pans cooling right now which will go into a covered bin and onto the deck for the night, with heavy things on top to discourage raccoons. They'll be back tmw for them and for the pan of maple syrup fudge also cooling on the counter.

Anna went home to cook 3 marinated hams. Tomorrow, she and Holly will deliver and distribute the hot meal with an Xmas gift bag. 

In the middle of the chaos, I heard from the editor at the Globe with edits on my piece. So I was rewriting and sending back to him while giant piles of cabbage and potatoes flowed through my kitchen. It was, in a word, heaven.

If you're interested in what they're doing, here it is:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/dashmaawaan-bemaadzinjin-they-feed-the-people?viewupdates=1&rcid=r01-160867776228-b755749335b646ce&utm_medium=email&utm_source=customer&utm_campaign=p_email%2B1137-update-supporters-v5b

Last night, solstice drinks on Zoom with two of my oldest friends from university days, a visit with Monique, and then "His Dark Materials" which is thrillingly good. It was mild today, bicycle weather. Peter Jackson has released a short montage from the "Let it be" film that'll come out next summer, the Beatles taping the final album. We've all heard how unhappy and bitter they were at the end. But the fun and sheer joy that pours out from this clip - glorious. Something to look forward to in August 2021.

Macca's new album is out, have only heard snippets so far, including last night at Monique's with our friend Cathy, all of us dancing around the living room. But he has released a gorgeous little film to go with one of them. Merry pre-Christmas to you all. May there be such pleasure in a day for you too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?fbclid=IwAR3TpuI4B5QX7CmF0J-JeM83d-wLlWzAhIm_WvuV_smOlziiLLOn6rzC00U&v=GmF1H_vUhbc&feature=youtu.be

Getting to yes.

Much to be grateful for today. Friends are sending e-cards or their Xmas newsletters - new grandchildren, beautiful photographs. The lights of Xmas on nearly every house have made our street festive and bright. I'm slightly less bah humbug than usual at this time. 

For me, another bit of good news: on Friday morning I sent that 1200-word essay to the Globe's op-ed editor, and later that day, he replied, "We'll take it." 

"We'll take it." That's a yes. After a long trail of many no's, I needed that. 

And a big yes for my daughter. As I've written here, Anna's volunteer group that makes meals for Indigenous elders and unhoused has received a grant from the city. Her new job combines two of her favourite things: feeding people, and making a difference where it matters. She just sent a list of what they're cooking next week, a massive feast for 75 people - it's mind-boggling. 

Sam is busy - his bar is open just for people to buy bottles, but they come faithfully; he's there to greet his regulars even if they can't sit down and wait for him to make them laugh, and their favourite drink. 

More kind words about the memoir: this from a woman I don't know: I so enjoyed your memoir, Loose Woman. You have led quite a life. I particularly loved hearing about the time you spent at L'Arche. Your growing understanding of those you cared for and the empathy you showed was powerful. Your memoir showed the path you followed to become a strong, confident woman. I imagine your students now benefit from the wisdom you have gained on your life's journey.

I hope so!

And from a former student, a middle-aged man: I finished reading your memoir today which I found gripping for two reasons. First, because I know people associated with L’Arche, and have always admired their commitment to the handicapped. When as a kid I passed 278 Bloor St. East in Toronto, the sign said “Home for Incurable Children.” Second, because having taken your writing course a few years ago, it was fascinating to read about your relationships and intimate thoughts. Thank you for your transparency. 

My pleasure. It's the job.

Home for Incurable Children. The charity that used to be called Crippled Civilians. Things do get better, names are chosen more carefully. My gay friend Ken told me today that when he heard Pete Buttigieg had been picked for Biden's cabinet, he cried with joy, for all the gay young people who might move forward with new hope and validation. Things do get better. Yes. 

Finally, an image to which we can all, perhaps, relate:

Hot fresh audiobook available on Audible.com. Get yours today.

Such good news! After three months of delay, the audiobook I taped in early September is finally available for purchase on Audible.com. If you know someone who likes to listen to books while they jog or commute or work - here's the perfect Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Whatever you celebrate present! Please tell your friends. 

https://www.audible.ca/pd/B08QW4L2CT?qid=1608246852&sr=1-3&ref=a_search_c3_lProduct_1_3&pf_rd_p=b278ed0a-c3b2-4491-808c-7cb2190a487c&pf_rd_r=9A9HNXN24WSCX8DVWA56

And more excitement: I did a live interview this afternoon for Allison Dore's program The Breakdown on SiriusXM167. She's lively, bright, interested in books and much else, and has a 3-hour program every afternoon. Our interview about "Loose Woman" was supposed to last 15-20 minutes, but we talked intensely for close to half an hour. Enjoyed every minute. 

And more - friend and student Ruth Miller wrote a gorgeous essay for class, one of her best, which we insisted she send off to the Globe. They've just accepted it, and it'll appear soon; stay tuned. I myself sent an essay yesterday to the Star about vaccine scepticism and my dad's polio but have not heard, will send it elsewhere if they don't get in touch soon. The nineties was my essays period, when I was sending out constantly with scores of pieces in newspapers and magazines and on CBC. I stopped writing essays to concentrate on books. This is the first time since that I've started in a serious way to write and send essays again. Do-able, as they say. Not the long term grief of books. Short term pain.

And more - Anna has been volunteering with a group making meals for Indigenous elders and the unhoused, often with traditional ingredients. They've just received a big grant from the city, so soon this will be her official job. When Covid is over they will actually welcome people to sit and eat, but in the meantime, they prepare meals for delivery. Both my children, for some strange reason, make their living feeding people, welcoming them, serving them. Proud mama here. 

Last night, flipping around on the TV, a doc on inter-species friendships - a goat who spent his life patiently guiding a blind horse, a deer and a dog who are best friends, greeting each other and frolicking together - very moving. Steve Paikin chatting with musicians about Beethoven, what is it about his music that endures? He showed a YouTube clip - a rapper from the projects listening to a symphony for the first time, the 5th, beginning to cry, saying, in his inimitable way that I cannot imitate, If this is number five, what are numbers one, two, three, and four like? 

My good friend the TV. My good friends FB and Twitter which keep me in touch, despite the stern disapproval of my blog friend Juliet, who reprimanded me after my last post. And then my actual friends - talked to Lynn today on Skype, she in Montpellier having to isolate after a possible exposure to Covid. Monique, of course. And besides that - no one. Not a soul. Just moi. I did go for a walk, do an exercise class on Zoom, practice the piano briefly, sit at my desk all morning. Got embroiled in a controversy about the choice of firm for the next stage of the Regent Park development, sent a flurry of letters of protest, including to the man in charge at Toronto Community Housing who replied within 15 minutes! Beware an articulate woman with a word processor and Google.

Tonight, a reward for good behaviour: the last two episodes of the Crown, and reading. Routine is key. 

From Duncan: Your book is a very compelling read Beth. Wow, such honesty and clarity, something that eludes me in my own writing. Your kids must love this book?

I wonder if they'll ever read it.

Giving Voice

Dear friends, here's a "must see" recommendation for you: last night I watched "Giving Voice," a documentary on Netflix, with tears streaming down my face. It's about teenagers of colour from disadvantaged communities who enter a competition to perform a monologue from one of August Wilson's plays. The camera follows some of them home; we see where they live, we hear about their lives and struggles and hopes, and then we see them act. As a former actor, this film about the power of theatre, the love of performance that springs up in a young heart, is beautiful beyond words. And a shout out to the drama and English teachers out there who encourage and foster and push. The ending, the actual competition, is as riveting as anything I've seen on film. Don't miss it. 

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/11/movies/giving-voice-review.html?action=click&module=RelatedLinks&pgtype=Article

Another cold grey day. My daytimer, usually jammed with scribbles, is almost entirely blank, and there's a temptation to sink into the comfy chair and spend the day with FB and Twitter. Today I have a CNFC conference committee meeting. Tomorrow and Friday, nothing scheduled. Thursday, great excitement, an interview with SiriusXM's Allison Gore about my memoir. The weekend is blank.

But I'm spending hours at my desk plowing through dusty, nay, filthy boxes of papers and photos as I begin work on an essay, or something, about my uncle Edgar the world bridge expert - tying him to "The Queen's Gambit," the story of another eccentric game-playing competitive obsessive. And then there's Netflix! Walks. Exercising with Zoom. Cooking. Grocery shopping. Feeding the birds. We'll keep busy. 

In the meantime, the vaccine is being injected into the arms of Canadians, and the Electoral College did its job. Things are looking up. 

Kathryn in Vancouver just wrote, "Bravo! I finished reading Loose Woman and enjoyed it so much, not just your excellent writing, but also as it was a real trip down memory lane for me."

Rosemary, who read one of the first drafts, wrote, "I’m enjoying Loose Woman so much. The language is much richer than the earlier drafts, as are your personal insights. Even people with small roles come through so clearly – and I get interested in them." 

And best of all, Eli wrote a note to his mother. We are a note-writing family; I used to write to my kids about their behaviour and their lives, and they'd write back. It's thrilling to see that the tradition continues.

I am sorry I did not do wact was agspexted from me. Can you frgiv me?

I am sooooo sorry about every thing I did today and every othr day.

Love Eli and Ben 

to Mum

Be still my beating heart.

bitching

You think I'm just a terminally cheerful person, don't you? But no, I can be crabby and critical, yes, it's true. I turned on NBC's "Broadway Cares" on Friday, looking forward to seeing Broadway performers in excerpts from their shows, raising money for theatre people out of work for nearly a year, certainly a cause dear to my heart. My poor ex, with his vast building in Washington - three theatres - shuttered, many people laid off, no idea when things will start up again. So I was thrilled to check out this show. But - why do singers yell these days? Everything at 2000 watt energy. Tone it down! There were a few good numbers, but when You Oughta Know from the Alanis Morissette musical came on, a young woman howling in rage at top volume, I turned it off. 

Last night I watched "Let Them All Talk," with a stellar cast, about a famous writer sailing to England on the Queen Mary - what could go wrong? A lot, as it turned out. Partially improvised, it was meandering and more or less pointless, though it did feature three older actresses including the ubiquitous Meryl, so that's good. The major plot point was the author bringing two of her best friends along on the trip, one of whom had had her life ruined by exposure in one of the author's books. But was anything explored or resolved of this fascinating and personally relevant subject? Nyet. Candace Bergen was terrifically authentic as the sour, damaged friend desperate to hook a rich man. 

At the end, I thought, well, there's two hours of my life I won't get back. And then - God, it'd be fun to travel on the gorgeous Queen Mary, especially as a famous author in a luxurious two-story suite. Any day now. From the NYT review, 

By the end the issue isn’t the sluggishness and unseasoned execution, but its moral ambiguity regarding Alice’s use of the unofficial Karl Ove Knausgaard writing method — plucking from loved ones’ lives for inspiration. The question of what stories Alice can own, what’s off-limits and how she herself lives in the writing is more interesting than the film gives it credit for. But I’m done now; can we change the conversation?

A grey gloomy drizzly day. Yesterday was lovely and warmish; while out for a jogette, I ran into Pierre, a nice young man from Paris who lives across the street, and invited him to join Monique and me for apéritif on her porch at 5. Then her nephew Tom and his partner Olivier dropped over and sat nearby, so we had a grand porch party with three handsome young men, in French. Human company - what a rare, much needed treat. Pierre bought on this block without knowing there are six people fluent in French a stone's throw from his front door. 

Today, for the first time in months, I have a piano lesson. It'll be painful, as practicing has been, to put it mildly, sporadic. As in, almost nil. But it'll be good to see Peter, who's coming for tea. Tonight I have not one but two Zoom concerts to choose from, bad planning on my part: James Ehnes, with Stewart Goodyear on piano, playing 3 Beethoven violin sonatas, and the Gryphon Trio performing Beethoven piano trios. Luckily I can spread them out, so I don't overdose on Beethoven today, especially if I've struggled through the Moonlight Sonata for Peter. 

Though as the rain pours through thick pewter clouds, this is a good day for some Ludwig, to be sure. 

Happy Chanukah!