30 December 2009

Discovery

I had a lovely lunch and shopping trip in Outremont with my friend Maychai today.

We had lunch at the lovely Steak Frites, although we were both good and had salads (hers with duck, mine with grilled shrimp) and then I tossed all caution to the wind and had a lovely molten chocolate cake for dessert with our lovely double espressos allongés.

But the discovery came before lunch, as we shopped. We went into Gourmet Laurier and I found out that the rumours were true! One can find Orangina Rouge on this side of the Atlantic! And TUC LU crackers, too! And here is the proof:


Does this mean that I will stop sending my employees on missions possibles when they have meetings to attend in France? No. After all, they're going anyway and even with the exchange the price I found here was a bit steep.

Still, it is comforting to know that, in a pinch, I can satisfy my beverage needs without shelling out for a plane ticket to Paris.

26 December 2009

Mum

I wanted to write a letter to Mum to talk to her about some of the things I remember with fondness and appreciation. This is by no means an exhaustive list, or even necessarily a list of the most important things; I keep discovering each day new ways in which I miss her and new ways to remember her with a smile on my face, even as tears threaten to well up in my eyes.
---
Dear Mum,

I’m writing to you to thank you and to tell you about some of the ways you have permanently impacted my life.

First of all, thanks for having me. As the second child of a two-child family married to the first child of a two-child family, it certainly couldn’t have been very expected that you would have five children. As child number four, I should be particularly grateful for that one. But when I think about this question, the thing that most pops out in my mind is the recurring conversation among us kids discussing the responsibility of people to limit themselves to replacing themselves by having at most two children. This conversation almost inevitably evoked an almost tearful response from you: “I can’t imagine what I would do without any of you.” Your attachment to all of us, in very different and individual ways, is something that I miss already.

Thanks for making sure that we did things together as a family. I know so many people who have little connection to their siblings, or who haven’t spoken to them for many years out of anger or disinterest. We are not like that. As diverse as we are as individuals – and as bossy and domineering, too, I am compelled to admit – we actually get along, and we enjoy spending time together. All of our meetings have times when you wouldn’t be able to fit a word in edgewise as we all try to share our own experiences and points of view with each other, and they all have moments of laughter, even in the saddest of times.

Thanks for being, with Dad, among the most open-minded, tolerant and even accepting parents of teens and young adults I have ever seen. I remember the time during the 1970s that my older sisters moved in with, or otherwise shared space with, their boyfriends. Other families lived this experience as a rupture and a tragedy, but you made sure they had enough dishes and towels.

There was very concrete application of this to my own experiences, too. After all of the horror stories I had heard from others about coming out to hostile families and all of the disaster scenarios I played out in my own head during the years (yes, years) I reflected on coming out to you, I got love back. “How could you be so silly as to thing this would matter to us? You’re our son and we love you.” And later, when we had a moment face-to-face, you anguished about all the times over the years you must surely have offended me without realizing it. This is the kind of acceptance that made me know that I should not hesitate to share and seek support from you when I was diagnosed with HIV. I got the same love and support in return.

You were always upset when your gathered children reminisced about the various punishments we received as children. I hope that you took some comfort from my words when I told you that we wouldn’t be talking and laughing about it if we had been abused and scarred. No, I remember most the image of a mother who, helpless with laughter, was unable to keep two of us from having a little raw cookie dough as we acted in tag-team.

I also remember the Mum who seemed to know how to do everything, skills developed through years of just scraping by when we were all young and you and Dad were moving your young family all over rural BC, or skills born of your own creativity and practicality. Art, sewing, cooking (especially baking!), canning…there was no apparent end to the things you were able to do and to encourage us to do. And then there was the English grammar. As frustrating as it might have been for a child to be corrected, I think that all of us owe our grammatical reflexes to your interventions. If I ever feel I need clarity on which construction to use, it is your voice I hear in my head and it always will be.



And in the same vein of practicality, let me thank you for your clarity about your final arrangements.

First, the distaste for euphemism. I’m proud to say that we respected that approach in your obituary – you were the only one on that page of the Kamloops Daily News on the first day of publication who actually “died.” The others passed away or passed on.

Second, the reaction to religion after you had lived with the hypocrisy of small town churches early on in your marriage. One of my favourite anecdotes – and one that I only recently heard – is the one about your being visited by the priest in hospital. He had come to ‘console you about your loss.’ “I think you have the wrong room,” you said. He beat a hasty retreat.



Finally with respect to your remains. Cremation without frills or ceremony, and your desire to have your ashes go somewhere you would have been afraid to go in life. We have a pretty good plan for that, I think. And we can all hear you remind us that those ashes are not you. You are living in our heads now.


Love, Ken

(I will try to get better versions of some of these photos and replace them as I am able.)

19 December 2009

Enid Norah Monteith 1933-2009

Enid Norah Monteith (née Lucas) died suddenly December 13, 2009.

She is lovingly remembered by her husband of 56 years Mel Monteith, her brother Ken Lucas (Anne-Marie) of Ottawa, her sister-in-law Doreen (Roy Baillargeon) of Kamloops, her children Mike (Linda), Brandy (Brenton Wilkie), Terry (John Pisarczyk), Ken, Syd (Tracy Baird), 8 grandchildren and 5 great-grandchildren

Enid grew up in Kamloops, graduated from Kamloops Senior Secondary School in 1951, and worked as a legal, administrative and medical secretary while raising a family throughout the B.C. interior.

Enid was a hard-working, intelligent, creative and caring person. Her baking talents and great sense of humour brought pleasure to countless others. She was a ravenous reader and took a keen interest in what was happening in the world around her.

Together with her husband Mel, Enid raised a loving family and inspired them all to do their best. What made her happiest was having her whole family together, and it is a tribute to them both that being together is always a happy experience for the whole family.

Enid will be remembered in a private family gathering. There will be no service by request.

In lieu of flowers, please send donations to the Dr. Helmcken Memorial Hospital (Acute Care), R.R. 1, Clearwater, B.C. V0E 1N0.

Enid, Mum, Granny…we miss you.

06 December 2009

Inappropriate Eating

Okay, it's time to denounce a practice that I keep seeing but will never accept. Nor should I. I am talking about the scourge of eating on public transit — what are you people thinking?!

This is not just about hygiene, although if you are really trying to consume everyone else's viruses and bacteria, you couldn't find a better place. Grab that bar or strap to steady yourself and then, once seated, use the same hand to manipulate your sandwich into your germ receptacle (mouth).

It is also not just about the cleanliness of the bus or the metro car, although I am generally grossed out by having to avoid a seat or a patch of floor because of the crumbs — or worse! — that I find there and disgusted by those who would just drop their food wrappers where they stand instead of hanging on to put it in a proper garbage can.

Oh no, this is about the rudeness of it. It is not the appropriate place to eat, just like it is not the appropriate place to have a loud and animated conversation on the phone (but that's a whole other post, now, isn't it?!). You are impinging on the space of others who are using public transit for the purpose it is intended to serve (travel from one point to another) and you are having an inadequate culinary experience on top of that. For shame!

Beyond the bus and the metro, there is another offender I would like to mention that has no place on the sidewalk. This is a relatively new phenomenon, having arisen with the Starbucks and the Second Cups. It is the person stumbling down the street with her/his cup of coffee held out in front at half-arm's length.

This coffee thing tends to happen at all times of the day, but I imagine it to the worst during the morning rush hour. I get it that you are addicted to coffee. I get it that you have some place to be. I get it that you are late. Surely none of these things is well-served by your rude stumbling along the sidewalk with your coffee outstretched before you.

At best, you will have an unsatisfactory coffee experience (probably bad coffee in that cup anyway, getting cold faster than you had planned) and you will arrive at work late and with coffee spills on your outfit. At worst, you will spill your coffee on me and that, my friends, is completely unacceptable!

Get up a little earlier or call to warn your work that you will be a little late today, sit down and enjoy your addiction to caffeine the way it was intended to be enjoyed. Or do we need to get funding to set up a safe sipping site for you?

02 December 2009

World AIDS Day

I'm with Brian on this one. Er…let me explain…

It's World AIDS Day as I write this (the day doesn't end until I go to bed) and I have a shopping list of items that I would like to get as gifts on this day.

The serious version:
• Stable and adequate funding for AIDS organizations and those working with populations vulnerable to HIV infection
• Appropriate prevention activities for all who might encounter a risk of contracting HIV
• Appropriate HIV sensitization activities for all
• Affordable and effective medications for people wherever they live — and the same standards for defining what that means
• Accessible medical follow-up for all
• Judges who recognize that personal responsibility is shared when two people are involved
• Effective interventions to proactively address the issue of stigma and discrimination related to HIV/AIDS
• Policy decisions based on science and not ideology
• A cure?

And just to keep it light:
• A wealthy, generous and doting boyfriend so that I can be what I have always wanted to be — a volunteer!

Only 364 shopping days until the next World AIDS Day….