Celebrations

A couple of mornings ago, this was the treat that was in my Gmail inbox, while the image above was the treat outside my window that morning, looking not at the harbour but at the white birches between our house and our neighbour’s.  Those are certainly two things to celebrate.  This blog is titled Field Days: A Miscellany with the subtitle A Day Book of Sorts, and this post is an observation and celebration of that day and some other days in the past couple of weeks.

Just over forty years ago Lorraine was in the Grace Maternity Hospital with our first child, who was born after a long and difficult labour.  It was profound and life-changing for both of us, but more especially for Lorraine, who had been confined to her hospital room for quite a few days.  She went to the window to look at the world outside and was amazed to see that things were carrying on quite normally out there, people walking along the sidewalks, waiting at crosswalks, talking to each other, all apparently oblivious to the fact that our first child had been born.  The night he was born I wrote the following as part of a much longer poem:

              I am not artiste

c’est tres simple

aujourdhui je suis

tous hommes

this baby born the first

ever in the world

and I the first father

On his 40^th birthday we celebrated, and perhaps the most wonderful aspect of this celebration was the great joy and pleasure our two granddaughters took in the celebration, especially when they got to shoot their aerosol cans of “party string” at their beloved dad and when they got to watch him blow out his candles and enjoy their slices of the chocolate cakes.

Later on that same weekend I participated in a reading that was part of Word on the Street, a celebration of books and of both writing and reading, held on the Halifax waterfront.  I was very happy to be there, along with the other winners in the Writers’ Federation of Nova Scotia 35^th Annual Atlantic Writing Competition.   

My entry, “Orientations, Syria”, included five poems that explored my experience of, and orientation to, being In Syria with Lorraine to help her with the completion of her photographic work there.  It was great to have my work recognized in this competition and to have the opportunity to share it with others, though this celebration, like any celebration involving Syria must be tempered by our knowledge of what is still happening there.  Here is my introduction to my reading:

My submission, “Orientations, Syria”, is part of a larger series, Orientations, I have been working on.  The verb “orient” means to locate and understand one’s self in relation to the east.

I want to dedicate this reading to my intrepid wife Lorraine Field, who has been travelling to Syria since 2004 to make and exhibit photographic work (her last visit there was in February, 2011, just as the Dera’a demonstrations were beginning to spread); also to our stalwart friend and guide G. and his extended family; and most especially to the Syrian people, whose spirit, courage, and heroism have inspired them to continue resisting and fighting back against the Assad’s cruel regime through a time of heartbreak, injury, and death.

These poems are from a quieter time in that brave and broken country.

The reading went well, and I was very happy to be able to do it and get such a positive response from those who attended.  As to celebration, I am always happy to join in celebrations of the written word, and I was also happy to watch this shortvideo clip on Al Jazeera today that may hold hope for a future Syria without the Al Assad family crushing its own people so ruthlessly.  So, from our positions of relative privilege, comfort, and safety, let us hope for the dawning of better days for Syria’s freedom fighters – it is the least we can do.

A Celebration on the Barrens

Our good friend P., known to his kids sometimes as S., had a birthday yesterday, a big one.  P. turned 50, and we were very glad to be a part of celebrating him on his big day, for he is a very special good guy.

His choice to celebrate the day was to walk on the Barrens.  This is the great hike from Duncan's Cove to Ketch Harbour out along the granite headlands next to and high above the Atlantic.

It was a blowy day, and we agreed that the sky colour was bright grey.  The sea, as follows naturally, was also grey, though less bright, but highlighted with the bright whiteness of foam around the rocks, spray where the swells were breaking over shoal water, and the driven whitecaps.

In the rock cleft the water was crashing and booming.

It was a colourful group that stopped for a snack.

P. had a celebratory drink.

There was talk of dwarves and wood elves when we made our quiet way through the magic forest.

Two of us tried hard to levitate.

It was great to come around the point and see Sambro Island light in the distance.

And later, after food and gifts and songs, there was a fabulous cheesecake to finish us all off.  Happy day, P., and thanks so much for sharing it with us!

They say it’s your birthday

And once again it is. The evidence began early this morning when I looked at my g-mail and found that friends from earlier time zones had started sending me greetings and good wishes through Facebook.  Of course I did know it was my birthday and had seen a reminder last weekend in St. Catharine’s; namely, an invitation on the fridge to Levi’s 5^th birthday, which happens today and is being celebrated tomorrow, and which I know that the amazing M. will attend.  Shortly after I started the computer the phone rang, a call from St. Catharine’s with JE and M. singing Happy Birthday to me twice, first the slow version, then in quick time, a great start to the day.

Our house has systems and there are related chores, like reviving the fire in the stove and bringing more wood in from the shed, making the morning tea, looking at the bird feeders, checking the colour of the harbour (blue-grey this morning) and the direction of the wind (shifted from yesterday’s NE to NNE), and assessing how much snow fell in the night.  I am not the sort of person who easily stays in bed while others start the day and cater to my needs; I’d rather be the one who gets up and actually does these things, getting my day started through being active, and I’m especially happy to do that on my birthday.

There were many treats today.  Here are some:

• the sound of a song sparrow when I went to get wood, a song that started a few days ago, a harbinger of spring 
• a gang of white-throated sparrows that came to feed, one on each of the feeders, the rest picking around in the new snow for the seeds that got knocked down, ten of these little beauties in all 
•  a seagull against the grey sky, belly white like the snow, back grey like the clouds, calling as it glided on the crest of the wind 
•  breakfast by the dining room windows with Lorraine and our daughter E. and talk of old times, birthdays past, and the vagaries of our lives 
• a grey-white splash on the window next to me that I took to be a good luck birthday wish from the seagull (and that I cleaned off the glass a little later with hot water, sponge and squeegee, and a very long extensible pole) 
• our very first ski of this nonexistent winter over at York Redoubt, feeling the stretch in my arms and legs and listening to the swish of the skis through the snow, especially when I hit the right spot on the trail for a long stride, a long glide, and the elation of flying past the stone walls and cold trees 
• doing a short edit for JE and then meeting a graduate student in education to work with her on an assignment that explored belonging, group relations, and creativity 
• joining E. at the Fireside for drinks, martinis and margarita, in comfy chairs next to the fire, and enjoying the sweet taste of lobster cake snacks 
• then having dinner with her at Suzuki (formerly Doraku) with dragon roll, rainbow roll, other great rolls, our first sushi pizza, gensai tea, and a large bottle of Kirin Ichiban beer to share 
• the chance to reflect on the people I know through the good wishes they keep on sending to help me celebrate this day 
• and, finally, the chance to look back on the day, remember it all with pleasure, and have the time to write this, my 156^th blog post since I started this endeavour, exactly three years ago today

It was a treat all the way and all the day – I hope Lou Reed (now 68) and Levi (now five) had days that were just as good!  They say it’s your birthday, and it is, today!  Happy birthdays to you too.

Celebrating a Birthday

Last Saturday our middle granddaughter turned four, and on Sunday she came to our house with her big sister to celebrate.

We went exploring and she climbed up on their favourite rock next to the brook.

They both dressed in the pixie costumes Lorraine had found and discovered Pixieland under the big apple tree where the hawthorn petals had been falling.

She showed that she has learned how to really pump a swing high.

Because she doesn't especially like cake, they decorated chocolate chip cookies for the event.

And we all blew out our cookie candles.

A very good time was had by all!

This is the this

It is, as some of you know, my birthday today, and I am now 66.  It is important to me not just because I am beginning my 67^th year today, but also because of this.  What this, you might well ask.  Well, this is the this, this page I am just now composing and will some time through the day today post on my blog so that you, whoever you are and wherever you might be, can read it if you choose.

Two years ago today I decide to write and post my first ever blog entry (you can check it out here if you want to).  It was titled “They say it’s your birthday”, and it was built around the fact that Lou Reed (67 today), a boy named Levi (4 today), and I (66 today) share this day, the understanding that Lou was (and likely still is) in a relationship with Laurie Anderson, memories of the albums I had just taken to a used record store, and the connections to a couple of old Beatles songs that were in my head that day (and still are today, though I am no longer 64).

This is Post #130 of that blog, which I called Field Days: A Miscellany.  I have just learned how to pronounce “miscellany” through one of the wonders of the internet where someone at a pronunciation site just said it for me, and miscellaneous really characterizes the contents of Field Days.  It is subtitled “A Day Book of Sorts”, and one of the things I have truly loved is the ability to write here about things that happen in a day (miscellaneous things) and take my attention sufficiently to get me writing or photographing or googling them and posting the results here.

I think that my blog posts are a bit like essays, in the original sense of the word, that is; they are essais, or attempts, to get at something through language.  One of the blessings in this endeavour is the ability to write of these things that have engaged me in the informal voice I am most comfortable with, a kind of conversation with the known or unknown you.  A further blessing of a blog is the ability to broaden the range of what can be written through the use of links, so that my side trips in exploring that thing or things that may end up ranging over the vast number of possible trails through the ether of the net can be shared.  And, finally, because I am such a happily visual being, I have the opportunity to include images, what the roving eye may see and try to hold onto with a small camera.

I know some of the people who read what I write here, either because they post comments in response or because I recognize their IP addresses or locations, but the majority who show up on my sitemeter are unknown to me.  I like that, the fact that my writing voice, my listening ear, and my scanning eye can be read, heard, and seen by others out in our wide networked world whenever they care to explore what is available here, and sometimes wonder why that person in Agawam, Massachusetts or Arlon, Luxembourg, or Broadmeadows, Australia dropped in for a visit and what s/he might have thought or felt.

So the subject of my 130^th post is not so much my birthday today, shared with Lou and Levi and family and friends, but the variousness of the world we live in and the things that take our (or, in this case, my) attention in it sufficiently to note them as they pass.  Composing a post for this blog has always been a great pleasure for me, and I always hope it may bring pleasure to you too. 

Happy (birth) day to you too, hope you have a great one!

They say it's your birthday...again!

They say it’s your birthday, and today it is…again! And again it is Levi’s in St. Catharine’s, though it is this year he turned three, not last, and it is also Lou Reed’s, and Lou is now 66, still exactly a year older than I am. I learned that Lou and Laurie Anderson are still in New York and still together (see my post from this date a year ago for some questions I had back then), that they held a benefit last month for somebody there, and that Anne Carson, whom some of you know as one of my heroes, was part of it.

I missed the benefit – in fact was not even invited – but that is all beside the point because today is my birthday, and Lorraine and I had the chance to spend parts of the day with two of our three amazing kids (and the weekend in Toronto with the third), their bright and loving partners, and all three of our wondrous and inimitable granddaughters. This latter required a little arranging because we started the day in St. Catharine’s, at the tail end of our visit there, and said good-bye, or see you, to our sweet and radiant M before her dad took her off down the street to Stephanie’s day care around the corner. Then we flew to Halifax where we were met by a welcoming committee of two very excited little girls with their dad, helium balloons left in the car because they might have ended up at the airport ceiling, and whispers of chocolate cake they had decorated and birthday surprises.

I can remember a long time ago, perhaps when I was in my 30’s, thinking about the millennium and the fact that it was so far off and when it came I would be 55 – it was inconceivable. How could you imagine making it to there and what it might feel like? Now here I am, ten years into this century, and I am 65, officially a senior, officially able to request seniors’ discounts, and officially at the start of my 66th year.

I couldn’t imagine making it to there or what it would feel like, and I am surprised now to notice how little difference there seems to be from 10 or 20 or even 30 years ago (except that someone else has to put the small children to bed and I am free to sit at my laptop and listen to music, Mercan Dede right now, and not worry if anyone but me is going to wake up in the night or too early in the morning). Of course I am not going to push the notion too far, since I am no kid or young man, but a 65-year old guy with a stoop to my shoulders, grey hair, and a lot less strength or flexibility than I once had.

This, however, is no matter because I have three young granddaughters who will play with me and tell me about their worlds, and three children, with three partners, who are all young adults who will all take the time tell me what matters to them and listen to what I might have to say. It was the best birthday you could imagine, with the best people, and with cards, like M’s above (made a couple of days before she turned 20 months), that spoke of love and being loved. Best gift you can ever get.

A long time coming

Monday was our granddaughter A’s five birthday, and it was a long time coming. In fact, it has been coming since A. started talking about her five birthday around the time she could first say her numbers and have some notion of what birthday meant (a special day, a day with a decorated cake and candles, a day they sing to me, a day with a number attached), perhaps around her three birthday. A. is the kind of person who thinks ahead, and she could always tell us what kind of cake she wanted for every birthday right up until her ten birthday.

We missed her first birthday, the day she was born, her zero birthday, because we were on our semester break while L. made photographs in the Louvre and the British Museum. So we first learned of A’s emergence into this world of air when we managed to talk to T. from a pay phone in King’s Cross Station in London. It was a huge moment for each of us, tears in our eyes and voices in that noisy train station, as our beloved older son told us of the momentous event of A’s birth, our first grandchild, and of how well her mom was doing after the ordeal. So A. was now out and looking around with her curious and puzzled eyes at the world the rest of us inhabit.

We also missed her one birthday a year later. This time our semester break took us to Egypt, and we thought of A. and her first birthday while we were there. Since we couldn’t be there for the big day, we took a lot of pictures of our trip and made a birthday book for her, A’s book about why her grandparents couldn’t make it to her birthday party.

The next year was her two birthday, and we made sure we were there, even though it was a difficult physical adjustment coming back to Canada in the coldest part of the winter. By this time A. had become a huge aficionado of grilled cheese sandwiches, and her birthday treat was going to Salty’s down on the waterfront where they served her a truly great grilled cheese. It was a fine celebration of a very special girl on a very special day, her two birthday.

While we were working in Istanbul, A’s birthday always landed in our two-week semester break, and the next year, the year of her three birthday, we were travelling again because we knew it was our last year overseas. So in 2008 we were camping in Oman near a turtle beach the night before a strong sandstorm, talking about our darling A. and her three birthday and the fact that once again we were missing it. There are some stories I haven’t yet written for her from that trip, the story of the turtles laying their eggs at night, the story of the little mouse at night, probably a gerbil, jumping up under my camp chair where I was eating a cookie, and the story of the baby turtles hatching in the morning sun and trying to make it to the ocean. I think I’d better get them done while the memory is still so fresh – they can be a late three birthday present, and maybe she’ll be able to read them herself!

We celebrated her four birthday last year, but this year was the big year. Her five birthday meant that A. was old enough to start at big school, and it seemed to be the one where she felt really and truly grown up. She said that what she most wanted was a surprise party, a hard thing to manage when she is already hoping for it to happen. However, T&S did a great job of making arrangements for us all to show up at Hatfield’s Farm for a sleigh ride pulled by two beautiful Belgians, huge and capable horses, with bells on their harness under a blue winter sky. And the other thing, planned by A. for years, was the Barbie cake, which T&S carefully designed and built for her and smuggled onto the sleigh for the party in the bunkhouse.

So A’s had her birthday and it was a great one. Our girl is now five, and T. says she has been a little puzzled the last few days about why being five doesn’t feel more different from being four. She is growing up and she is a thinky girl, and we’re all pretty lucky to be around her for her birthdays and her everydays.

Two Sundays

Two Sundays spent with family. If you click on an image, you can make it really big; just click the back arrow to return to the blog post.

The first Sunday was a picnic at Peggy’s Cove. It was a quiet spot, away from the other visitors.

We threw snails and pebbles into the water.

We found a sand worm. T. said it made him think of Dune.

I caught a crab. It pinched my forefinger but I hung on to it.

We went up by the lighthouse, but it was locked.

We climbed on the rocks. Some people practiced jumping.

The second Sunday (yesterday) was a birthday celebration at our house.
T. is now 37 and he got his first backhoe, something he has always wanted.

S. watched the mayhem from a safe distance.

Woofer had a ride on the backhoe.

The girls decorated the cake.

It was beautiful.

They helped T. blow out the candles.

The cake was delicious. Two good Sundays.