the bamboozle

It's cold again but sunny - winter for the weekend, then back to spring. Where am I living?! Crazy old Ontario with its crazy climate. These days I'm buried in lists, trying to get my life ready for export in two weeks. Just bought a new suitcase, that's a big step. It is so good, so very good, to feel my energy returning, my lungs healing, my own self returning.

Yesterday, a follow-up ultrasound of my left breast - they were concerned six months ago about some nodules. As she moved the wand around, I could see the screen, see those pesky nodules lurking in there. Scary. But it turns out they've not moved or grown, and I am officially not to worry any more. So that's that. Cost to me, you poor foolish Americans: $0.00.

Sad but true, this bon mot below explaining the people who voted for Mr. Disgusting the charlatan and continue, despite everything, to support him:
One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we've been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We're no longer interested in finding out the truth. The bamboozle has captured us. It's simply too painful to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that we've been taken. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back. 
-Carl Sagan, astronomer and writer (1934-1996)

Kedi - Istanbul hearts cats

It is a wet, very mild day, and for some bizarre reason, Mr. Disgusting is still President of the United States. But otherwise, life goes on. I spent the morning at Sick Kid's with Anna and Ben; he was having his foot checked at the Club Foot Clinic. It's perfect, though he will wear his boots and bar at night for another 4 to 6 years. But his little foot, bent completely sideways at birth, is perfect now. Let me tell you, if you ever want to feel profoundly grateful for what you have in life, spend a little time at Sick Kid's. We met a little girl who must have spina bifida, encased in a plastic cast from shoulders to hips, proudly showing the orthotics maker her colouring. We saw wheelchairs, pale faces, bald heads, IV poles. Nothing, nothing in this wide world, nothing at all matters as much as healthy children.

Ben is a happy boy. He is very small, unlike his brother, and doesn't talk much, but he signs. He knows the signs for MORE - his favourite - and that's enough, and I love you. Be still my beating heart. We spent hours Saturday at the AGO with both boys, including a great exhibit on the 5th floor with films that Eli could watch and plastic doors Ben could push through, and then lots of time in the fabulous playroom. Something for everyone.

Sunday night, Richard and Wayson came for dinner and to watch the last episode of "Victoria" and then "Feud," about Bette Davis and Joan Crawford making Whatever happened to Baby Jane. It shows how hard it was to be a female star in that era - that those women more or less had to be monsters and/or drunks to survive. It was well done, but I won't watch it again. I just don't care enough.

On the other hand, I went to see a documentary today that made me care very much: Kedi, about - yes - street cats in Istanbul. It was wonderful to see that fantastic city again; about ten years ago, I spent more than a week visiting the city with my young Turkish then-boyfriend. My God, that seems a lifetime ago. An incredible place. I did not notice then how many street cats there are - thousands, apparently, fed and cared for by citizens. The film explores the bond between animals and humans, the very special qualities of cats. One man says, "Cats have a special awareness of God. Dogs think human beings are God. Cats know that human beings are merely intermediaries." It's a beautiful film, highly recommended.

Got another nice note from a student. You understand, in the absence of a spouse who'd appreciate hearing these nice notes, I share them with you. I hope you don't mind.
I always enjoy class but I was able to listen to your advice very closely on Thursday ... not just advice for me, but for everyone. It was so damned good! You are a fine teacher Beth and you continue to teach me so much. It's something I will never take for granted. I am a lucky broad! 

And so am I. 

And my friend Piers Hemmingsen, who was at BeatlesFest last weekend, brought a copy of my memoir along and gave it to another Beatles author. She wrote him on FB:

Sara Schmidt Piers Hemmingsen it is always nice to see you. I have been reading the book about the girl in Paris (Started reading it on the plane) and I love it! Thank you so so much!

Unlike · Reply · 2 · 5 hrs

Piers Hemmingsen Sarah somehow I knew you would like that book ... in her book "All My Loving",  Beth Kaplan takes you right back to being a Paul fan circa late 1963 and early 1964. It is a great trans-Atlantic Beatles story and I hope that you can recommend it to your readers.

Thanks, Piers.

For your laugh of the day ... I love this!
http://www.avclub.com/article/improve-any-novel-changing-its-second-line-and-the-251576

Elke Town

I've just heard from her husband, the artist Robert Fones - Elke Town died this morning at 11.15. Elke was an extraordinarily accomplished woman who worked for decades, at Telefilm, TVO and at the company she founded, Storyworks, to nurture screenwriters and their film projects. She was acutely aware, hip, on the ball, punctilious, with a very sharp mind, great taste, and a dry sense of humour.

We were part of a circle which met regularly; I didn't know Elke well at first, but she was a friend of my old friends Suzette Couture and Jessica Bradley, also extremely accomplished, one a TV and film screenwriter and producer, the other a curator and dealer of modern art. Amazing women. We used to get together several times a year to eat and drink, gossip and jabber about esoteric subjects and about our aging minds and bodies - memorable gatherings, sometimes with another old friend, Isobel Harry. Through the years, Elke read various iterations of my books and manuscripts, always with something succinct and terrifyingly right to say.

One evening about five years ago, we were all at Robert and Elke's pristine house near Roncesvalles; she'd prepared a fantastic feast from the Yotam Ottolenghi cookbook, but, she told us, something funny was going on with her legs; they seemed to have a mind of their own, and she didn't feel as strong as usual. Before long, she was given the worst possible diagnosis - ALS. Devastating.

Within a couple of years, Robert and Elke were forced to sell their house and move into an apartment, where gradually, we visitors saw the transformation in our dear friend and in the place itself, the washroom renovated to make it possible for Elke's wheelchair to get inside. Supported by a team of caregivers provided by our government, Elke continued to work until the last months, writing her own screenplays and also reading other people's. When I visited, we never talked about her illness, her increasing lack of mobility; she wanted to hear about films, books, music, TV shows. We'd talk just as we did when she was a fiercely productive screenplay consultant, editor, and writer, and not a tiny, frail woman in a huge wheelchair, struggling at the end to keep her head upright.

Elke Town was in her late 60's. She leaves her husband Robert, her daughter Chloe, and many friends and admirers. You'll be much missed, Elke my love. Thank you for everything you gave us.

my usual winter travels

Sitting in my office, angled so the hot hot sun pouring in is beaming on my chest and not my face. Get those healing lungs in the healing heat. Soon, off to the AGO to meet Anna and the boys. Whether they look forward to the art or to the delicious macaroni and cheese in the cafeteria I don't know, but it doesn't matter.

Got this welcome note yesterday:

I had the pleasure of taking your class last fall at Ryerson while I was pregnant with my son. Now that I'm a mom of two my time has been limited in terms of when I can write, but I did find time to work on and expand some of the stories I developed in your class. In fact, I just got word that one of my stories will be broadcast on CBC Radio's The Sunday Edition!

I wanted to thank you for helping me get my creative juices flowing in your class. The story I wrote was actually the last story I submitted for the class.

Always happy to hear a student success story, especially from a woman coping with two small children and still finding time to write and even harder, to submit. Brava!

Re our planet, I'm getting to the point I can't watch any more. On Bill Maher last night, the environmentalist Bill McGibbon talked about all the massive destruction Trump's team have already perpetrated, in only a month - toxic waste in rivers, cutting environmental regulations, selling guns to crazy people. And then they talked about how Trump will start a war to distract critics from the Russia scandal and the rest. I feel like a lemming, being forced by my fellow lemmings to jump off a cliff, when I really, really don't want to. Too much to live for. But these Republican lunatics are determined that we shall all die. 

So, to focus on something cheery: In 2 1/2 weeks, I leave for my annual winter get-away. Last year I went to Vancouver; this year, lots of travel. On March 23, I fly to Paris, where I'll spend one night recuperating from jet lag in my favourite tiny hotel and then on for a week to the airbnb apartment in the Marais my beloved friend Lynn has rented for the two of us. She has work there so will be busy during the day and we'll spend evenings dining and jabbering, as we have loved to do since we met in September 1967 - nearly 50 years ago. Then I'll go south to spend a bit of time with her husband Denis, recovering from cancer surgery, in their homes in Provence and in Montpellier. And thence to Nice for a few days with my dear Brucie. 

An Easyjet flight from Nice to London, where I'll spend a week on my own, except for a few days when Penny comes in; we've already bought our theatre tickets. Lynn's son Christopher, who lives in central London with his family, is going away for Easter and has kindly offered me their Marylebone flat. So I have a place to stay free for almost my entire week in London, which makes a huge difference, not just financially, but for feeling at home, cooking, being able to get away from the frenzy of that insane and marvellous city. I hasten to say that the trip includes work as well as pleasure - doing some research on places I mention in the memoir, including a visit to the L'Arche community I worked at in 1979. It's always valuable to look at work, at stories, a great distance from home.

I know, incredibly lucky! Then, for more excess, I fly home for a week - see my grandsons, take a piano lesson, unpack, do laundry, repack and set off again for two weeks in Vancouver. The annual Creative Non-fiction Collective conference is May 5-7 there, so I'm going early to stay in Brucie's apartment again - he'll still be in Europe - and see my Vancouver buds. I'll also go to Gabriola Island to see Patsy and then have a solo adventure on the west coast of Vancouver Island - have rented a place on Chesterman Beach by myself for two solitary days of beach-combing and thinking. What a jump, from Paris and London to Chesterman Beach. Heaven.

And then home, to start teaching immediately - 3 courses - and plunge back into real life. The garden will be ready to go, and the Conversation Circle, and So True which will need lots of work in only a month to get it ready for June 4, and everything else. I'm also being audited by CRA and having mammograms and have doctor's appointments and all that stuff. Life. 

Here's to life! Much better than the alternative. Here's to that sun penetrating my lungs right this minute. Onward. 

So True is so NOW.

At the So True readings on Sunday, my friend Ken chatted to the woman sitting next to him, who said she was from Saskatoon and had read about our show in NOW magazine. I thought there must be some mistake, but there it is, in NOW, under Theatre Listings:

SO TRUE (Socap): Eight diverse writers tell true stories w/ Beth Kaplan, Jason Allen and others. Feb. 26 from 3.30 to 7 pm. $10. 2nd flr. THE SOCIAL CAPITAL THEATRE.

Times are wrong but otherwise - wonderful. I guess the theatre must have sent it in, because I didn't place it. Anyway, heady fame must feel like this. Surely vast fortune is not far behind.

LOL.

Good news on another front - my New York cousin Lori, a theatre hound who has seen everything, just saw "Come From Away." She loved it - "I cried all the way through." That bodes well for its future. Go, little Canadian show, go!

This morning at our conversation group, I learned that all the women from Bangladesh are in arranged marriages, and that's fine with them, there wasn't a single complaint. Of course, maybe we don't know each other well enough yet. They spoke about what they missed from home, besides their families - one said it was the smell of the tea plantation next to her home. Yes, Canada is the other side of the planet. The chatting is wonderful. I am making a whole new group of friends.

Tonight, a fundraising run-fit class at the Y. Just about the last thing I want to do, but will go briefly. Still am not back to myself. It will come. Helped by the fact that it was 17 degrees today - and 6 in Vancouver. We are them and they are us. Long may it last. Sorry, Chris.

P.S. Back from my run-fit event with aching legs - could hardly do anything, but at least I was there. Just wanted to say, for those of you keeping track - remember the 4 pounds I lost during the worst of my pneumonia? Well, I'm happy to say they're back, settled comfortably around my belly and hips. Welcome back, guys. What took you so long?

When I came home, my son had cooked and left me this - salmon brochettes with noodles, leeks and other veg in a complex sauce with things in it. Have not quite figured out what yet. My reward for years of hard labour as his mother.

Today was the warmest March 1 on record. Ever. We'll take it.