Saturday, February 27, 2021

SNOW GAMES

Princess Pirate in her natural habitat, training dragons and defending against monsters from angry coconuts to hydra


Between the two of us, we almost didn't go out at all. The day had gone fast and the sun was setting.  We were supposed to get some exercise and we both wanted to do it outside. Princess Pirate was ready to go out when I saw that the snow had started to turn to rain and changed my mind. I thought about the options and the outdoors was the best place to do it. If we dressed properly, we'd be fine even with the weather. I sent her out the front to check if the sunset changed the sleet to snow. Now it was her turn to back out, but I started getting out our snow pants and the most rain resistant winter jackets before we could change our mind again.

I had the forethought to save her good parka and hat and a pair of mitts to stay dry for the next day at school. We went out to the local park dragging the toboggan. PP didn't want to sled, but she liked to be pulled around the paths and through the woods. I wished I could run for longer, but whatever I could do was going to be good cardio. 

We did a few rounds, climbed mountains of snow, and fell a lot. It was sticky heavy wet snow, and the walking through it was unpredictable. On moment we fell deep into it, with our boot stuck, leaving us to fall forward so that we could turn around to dig ourself out. I thought that if you could film us and then erase the snow, like the nighttime technology that makes it seems like day, it would be ridiculous looking, with us falling forward and sideways oddly and at random times!  The snow was so thick in the air it was cloudy in the light. 

We were about to leave, and my idea to go sledding was not popular enough to go to the school where the hill was larger. I had her in the sled and I tried to drag her up the tiny hill in the park before we left. Again, PP stated her dislike of sledding, so I tried to slide down but found it too slow to be fun. She had made a body slide in the meantime and told me to check it out. It was pretty good! I brought the sled up for her to try once before we left. She took it down and had a little fun. I came down, thinking I would pull her home but by the time I was at the bottom, she was going back up for another round. This is when the game began. 

Wait for me, I cried, as I reached the bottom of the hill, and as I raced up, she grinned and slid down before I could get to the top! I ran downhill as fast as I can, and she laughed and raced up the other side of the hill. I lunged after the sled, but was too slow, and laughing chased her uphill again fruitlessly. She jumped in the toboggan and laughed gleefully, keeping ahead of me, and taking run after run down the hill in the sled.

By the end we were breathless, laughing, and PP liked sledding again. It felt like a Laurel and Hardy skit! It was the highlight of both our weeks.  

We walked home happy and wet, surprised to see it was 2 hours later and we had forgotten to eat supper!

Another fond memory to remember on the days when it seems like the weather might not be a good enough excuse to go outside.

Wednesday, February 24, 2021

EMILY DICKINSON POEMS

In this short life

that only lasts an hour

How much

How little

Is within our power.

-----------------------

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching, 'Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

------------------------

I'm nobody! Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!

They'd banish us, you know...

How dreary to be somebody!

How public, like a frog

To tell your name the livelong day

To an admiring bog!

Tuesday, February 23, 2021

BOOK REPORT: BECOMING BY MICHELLE OBAMA

This is a well written book. It seemed like it should be an important perspective to hear from, and a reminder of the better days that was the Obama administration. Michelle's vocabulary is excellent, and her speech clear and sometimes beautifully poetic. I was able to borrow Becoming as an audiobook, and I loved that it was read by her. 

This was not an easy read (listen) for me. I am finding it easier these days to listen to a book to completion than sit down and read it, but it seemed very long to get to the 18th hour of this book.  

I expected to be conflicted, but I didn't expect to dislike her so much. I was expecting honesty with self-reflection. Instead it seemed superficial, as she didn't seem to consider the internal conflicts that must have existed.  It seemed weird to me to hear her talk about her life in the same way I had uncomfortably heard others talk with insensitivity in terms of their own advantages. I was unconvinced by her argument that she identified with the Southside of Chicago, and therefore not given to temptation of the privileges afforded her living in the White House for 8 years. It seemed like Barack had the moral compass, or pride to avoid the appearance of entitlement, but she comes across as selfish , inflexible and spoiled (taking from her parents every thing they offered her, next her husband who always seemed to say yes but has his own inflexible ways about him). This led me to conclude that she was either an entitled brat from the get-go, or  self-deluded about her extraordinary life as FLOTUS, or worse, a blatant example of white racism and black entitlement from start to finish.

I know how that sounds. It sounds terrible. It makes me uncomfortable to say it. After what has happened in black history in North America, and around the world, it is absolutely necessary to absorb the anger and hurt and deep scars that persist in unconscious and dangerous biases that still exist in too many forums, institutions, and minds to this day, including mine. But I couldn't shake the growing certainty that Michelle Obama has a troubling (is it even unconscious?) bias in the opposite direction. I even wondered sometimes if she realized her "black" husband was also white. 

What also bothered me was how a woman with such a personal story, from rags to riches, and calling herself powerful, manages to spend her autobiography over and over confusing her life with her husband's. It would have been easier for me to accept that she wrote a biography of Barack. This bothered me deeply, having just been blown away by Melinda Gates' book The Moment of Lift. Maybe it was not fair in my expectations, as I had not really considered the wife of Bill Gates, or known anything about her public persona, so I could be surprised and impressed with who she was. I was more aware of Michelle as an entity beyond Barack Obama's wife, and had felt she represented an active partner in his presidency. I was truly disappointed. I had to reflect on my own incredible sensitivity and bias to the omnipresent gender inequity in my personal life while carefully interpreting what Michelle must have faced at the intersection of gender and race, but even through these lenses,  I didn't feel like I was seeing much of the person of Michelle Obama. She gave captions of her sequential roles (daughter, student, lawyer, advocate, wife, mother, FLOTUS), but never really seemed to show herself. The person I was able to glimpse between the roles, who I was left with, I didn't like very much.

Michelle Obama, like all human subjects, should be a complex character with many stories. She repeatedly insists that she is frank and personal, but she never seems to consider her own internal conflicts. She wants us to believe that she chose a career and her kids stability for the right reasons, but when Barack becomes POTUS, she finally just gives up that same valued career and moves her kids to where her husband lives. I expected her to feel torn in some way, but she gives no hint of regret that she didn't do it years before, nor discuss the difficulties of leaving those paths behind. She says that it was great to have him around every evening with no acknowledgement that it was her decision to stay in Chicago all the years before. Which is it? Did she make a mistake all those years? Or if it was the right thing, how did she deal with giving up all that in order to live in the White House? In another anecdote, she is offered support by the wife of a colleague in DC in preparation for the days ahead, which she rejects, finds judgemental and dismisses as irrelevant, but when her senator husband becomes the president, she then complains that she wasn't prepared enough for the very role that others saw coming, not acknowledging her own hubris in this deficit.

Meanwhile, she went on to minimize the criticisms she should have had for Barack. How his vision completely bulldozed over her independent fulfilling professional and maternal life balance. Instead of exploring this, she blames faceless politics, and talks about going on a wonderful date 4 months into the presidency for the first time, as though having her husband listening through dinner one time could make up for this. 

Growing up in South Chicago, with her mother fiercely advocating for her getting an education, and getting out before it got bad, by being accepted to Princeton, and moving out in the way she criticized others for doing, you would think she would find it unfamiliar and at least mildly conflicting to travel to Hawaii for every vacation, or mention the irony in taking private planes and helicopters across multiple states New York restaurant that serves local food (and is impossible to get a table at).

No bad breath on a first kiss with a smoker. Total acceptance of the fluky way her impractical smart husband became the President, who could have been a drain on her feminist psyche if they didn't have the money and staff to clean up after him and cook dinners. He could have just a likely ended up as bum. She got lucky. Her neighbourhood deteriorated but she wasn't living there anymore. She got lucky. But instead of humility and insight, she puts a romantic shine on it, and leaves out all the conflict. The spaces between the lines she writes are so far apart as to appear disingenuous to the reader. 


Thursday, February 18, 2021

A GOOD WEEK


 My week was a weird mix of meeting and failing demand, but in both circumstances I just keep moving forward. It didn't feel successful, but it did meet the Churchill criterion of moving from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm. 

I normally feel a twinge of regret missing a holiday that everyone else has time to celebrate, but it didn't happen this time. Valentine's came and went, and I didn't try and make up for it the days that followed, like inevitably happens with other holidays that my work schedule messes up.

We have had the best winter for snow, with temperatures in the double digits seeming tropical compared to the deep freeze next door in the western provinces.  -18 with windchill is not my preferred temperature for anything, but when you see -38 without windchill where your family lives, it's hard not be grateful!

I decided today should be a celebration of that snow. The driveway was shovelled and I had the equipment, so I made today a winter pentathlon event: a walk in the woods (the squirrels were cautious and acrobatic; the birds enthusiastically celebrating the mild weather and lengthening day), skating, cross country skiing, snow shoeing, and sledding (with involuntary screaming - those bumps in the snow were really well camouflaged but I felt them if I couldn't see them!) 

I even had a chance to go shopping for a few items for the first time since the restrictions lifted last Monday to allow "non-essential" shopping again, including pens and bras and underwear that were almost critical in need after a year of making do! It was quite a pleasure to see a variety of choices, and yet have so little drive to purchase most of it!

My neighbourhood feels a little closer this week. My neighbour fell in his house, and called the ambulance. The firetruck and ambulance lights flashed into my living room and I looked to see where it was coming from. My closest neighbour ("the John") was okay, but my neighbour past him, Nick, had called 911. Across from him live my friends who look after him, like I try and look after John, and I gave them a quick call. Turns out he refused to go, after they told him his heart and lungs were fine. The trouble was that he couldn't walk. When I learned a couple of days later that he didn't go with the ambulance but he couldn't walk, I called him to offer my help. To my surprise and delight, he accepted, and when I told him that he broke his ankle and needed to go to the hospital for a cast, he took my advice and went later that afternoon. 

It may take a village to raise a child, but it's nice to know that the village can take care of the elderly among us as well. I know altruism is self-serving, but when it has a twin purpose that benefits someone else, it is a nice feeling to have done something right.

Still, my favourite memory was after school when my daughter was combing her knotted hair. She let me make her a snack I have offered her for years, and for the first time she said yes to the classic ants (raisins) on a celery (filled with PB) log. I was tired, having come home from work at 4 am, but awakened early as usual by my cat at dawn. I had eaten breakfast in the early afternoon and I was sitting with my coffee, listening to her talk about her day. She had started on a rant about her math teacher, who she dislikes, and I was preparing his defence in his absence when what she said made me laugh so hard that it stopped her in her tracks. I wish I could remember exactly how she said it, but it was a perfect combination of her literal mind and humour. Essentially, her teacher had said that they had two and half hours of homework, but how was it possible that the very teacher that taught her how to add minutes would take 2-50 minute classes, add 30 minutes of homework, and conclude that this was 2 1/2 hours of math! In her mind, it was ludicrous for her math teacher not to realize that it was a mere 2 hours and 10 minutes of math!

It was a good moment for me, and her. A favourite memory. A successful work week. Mortality may nip at my heels, but I am still standing. The hours of crushing isolation threaten to make time futile, but all in all, a good week.