Remembrances 2016

Rembering Vonnegut's admonitions...

Last year I told you about Arthur VanTowsey, one of my touchstones of remembrance. Every year I remind you to remember Kurt Vonnegut's birthday today, along with his admonitions to seek peace and to enjoy today, both lessons he learned as a WWII POW in Dresden during those devastating firestorms and shared in his famous Saughterhouse Five.

As I was writing this month's missive the sad news of Leonard Cohen's passing reached me. So I offer you a memory of his style and grace. You're probably already listening to streams of his melodies, as am I.

As Kurt wrote so many times in his Slaughterhouse Five, "So it goes." Alas, we've seen too many go this year.

My favourite Vonnegut book, however, is Cat's Cradle. I think I might have been happy to be a follower of Bokonon.

My favourite L. Cohen song, is Tower of Song. "I asked Hank Williams how lonely does it get. Hank Williams hasn't answered yet."

Both Leonard and Kurt were blessed with a profound understanding of lonliness and unique golden voices that helped us to accept and appreciate and love. I offer my thanks to them both. So it goes.

...
If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.
              Kurt Vonnegut, of course:

Nov 2016

Watching the evolution
proceeding in my viewfinder...
         and pondering...
         with help from this:

The leaves of the oaks are like the leather of bookbinding. How to speak otherwise of them, when in October they take on a brown hue and are as if leathery, ready to be set with gold. Why this excessive poverty of language any time we deal with colours? What do we have at our disposal when we try to name the splendor of colours? Some leaves are yellow, some red, and is that all? But there are also yellow-red, and flame-red, and bull’s blood-red (why this recourse to comparisons?). And birches. Their leaves are like small, pale-yellow coins, sparsely attached to twigs which are of what hue? Lilac, from the lilacs, and violet, from the violet (again, these unwieldy comparisons). How does the yellow of birch leaves differ from the yellow of aspens, underlaid with copper, stronger and stronger, till copper wins. A copper colour? Again a thing, copper. And probably only green and yellow are deeply rooted in the language, for blue the etymologists associate with flavus, yellow, while red again, in its old Norse forms, goes back to trees, the rowan or reynir, the mountain ash, or perhaps to rust. Is the language so resistant because our eyes are not very attentive to details of nature unless they serve a practical purpose? In October, pumpkins ripen in the fields and their colour is orange. Why this recourse to orange, how many eyes saw oranges in a northern country?

I put all this down, for I have encountered difficulty in describing autumn in the valley of the Connecticut River in a precise and simple manner, without the props of comparison and metaphor.
                      ~ A Little Treatise on Colours by Czeslaw Milosz
...
If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. 
             ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course, whose birthday is November 11th...
                and who always reminds us to remember to remember.

Oct 2016

Wonders in Basalt... via the Olmecs and Isamu Noguchi

I had reason recently to share some of my images from the Noguchi Museum in Queens. This detail makes me wonder about the star-filled galaxy in the circle... is it convex or concave??? Sort of like the wonderments of our own universe. I show you Noghchi's whole wonder-full basalt piece to the left. He worked a lot in basalt and with my long-dormant sculptor's curiosity I wondered how it feels to work this stone. Basalt is mostly a result of lava flow and often is marked with rough air pockets but can be compressed into a solid mass... both with various specs of different minerals.

Then TVO brought me a doc about the Olmec civilization near the east coast of Mexico. Ancient Olmec sculptors found a basalt quarry quite a distance from their main city, San Lorenzo. About 1500 BC those guys started their colossal portraits while still in the quarry, probably to reduce their weight (to a mere 20-40 tons each) for transport via barges and brute force to San Lorenzo, high upon a hill. Once in place, they carved the details. Archaeologists found over 10 of them formally arranged in San Lorenzo, and others in the other Olmec cities. Their quarry still holds some barely begun heads, so we know that part (see left). How they accomplished the actual transport remains a wonderment, sort of like Easter Island on the other side of the world.

I watched the scenes in the quarry with some more wondering about the feel of working basalt. I turned to Wikipedia, of course, to learn more and through that search realized that the staple Mexican mortar and pestle, called a molcajete, probably came from the same era and is traditionally made from this same basalt! I still haven't carved basalt, but I am from Texas and I have used such implements for grinding as well as for serving vessels. Now I wonder about what it would feel like carve into one and then to polish part of its surface. I might be letting you know some day.

...
If this isn't nice, what is?
           ~Kurt Vonnegut, of course.
 ...

More about Noguchi at Artsy's Noguchi page.

"Everything is sculpture...any material,
      any idea without hindrance born into space, 
         I consider sculpture."
-Isamu Noguchi  

AUG 5, 2016

RIP My Beloved Philip John Evett
You heard about him in my Nov calendar of last year when Phoebe and I visited with him at our Trinity University reunion. Evett had been our sculpture prof... and the one whose influence I've felt most profoundly. 

His talent and his encouragement... and his pre-pun pause that was mostly punctuated with a puff from his ever-present pipe. He accepted groans as his just reward. 

As Phoebe said, 93 is a good long run. Memories are flooding in right now, along with tears of gratitude and love.

Sept 2016

 
    Misty Blue Morn
        Sandburg's
        Fog comes
        on little cat feet.
        It sits looking
        over harbor and city
        on silent haunches
        and then moves on.
    ...
    My Toronto misty fog
    Settles in heavily
    And engulfs with
    Endless muffled silence.
    ...
    I greet it with
    Sad, solemn acceptance,
    Return to bed
    Harkening to voices
    That have rendered
    Misty Blue...
    Mostly those women
    Who have taught us
    The Blues:
        Etta James
        Dorothy Moore
        Ella Fitzgerald
        Gladys Knight
    And more recently,
        Jann Arden.
    The saddest I think, though,
    Is this haunting version
        from Van Hunt.
    ...
    Go listen, and see
    If you're not ready to crawl
    Back under your own covers...
    Until the Sun forces it's way
    Through again and demands
    We all return to Ecstatic Joy
    Here: now and for always!

    ....
       If this isn't nice, what is?
               ~Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2016

My home beyond the veil...
The history of bridges is rife stories of the drive for communication and expansion. In 1911 my mother was being being born in NYC, home to over 2,000 bridges and tunnels... lots of expansive talking going on then and there. At the same time in Toronto citizens were trying to decide whether to build a bridge across the Don River to further their own expansive conversations. Referenda were held each year from 1910 til 1913, with residents voting against its construction in 1912 by 59 votes and finally in favour in 1913 by 9236 votes.

Known officially as the Prince Edward Viaduct, today we mostly now call it the Bloor Viaduct. It's part of a set of three bridges: this big one crosses the Don River (and now the DVP and the train tracks and the Bayview Extension plus a well-used bike path), then there's the bridge that crosses the Rosedale ravine and the other that connects the original terminus of Bloor Street to the Rosedale section.

The three-bridge system was designed by Toronto architect Edmund W. Burke. He also designed Trinity-St. Paul's United Church and the Robert Simpson's Department Store building, now home to The Bay and most recently Sak's Fifth Avenue. Time marches, eh?

But back to the Viaduct. Because it was second only to San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge in attracting suicides, in 2003 a barrier of steel rods was added to shield would-be jumpers. The barrier was designed by architect Dereck Revington and is called the Luminous Veil. Yes, it is. And last year lights were finally added to the veil so it glows in colour at night. Yes, it does.

Edmond Burke's bridges opened in 1918 and just a few months ago a great little pub bearing his name opened near the big bridge and its enlightened veil... and just around the corner from my home in the sky.

You can see that home beyond the veil here... it's that tall building in the background with some lights on, but not mine, because I was standing on the Prince Edward Viaduct taking this picture for you.
....
If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.
                                    ~Kurt Vonnegut, of course

July 2016

Blueberries now and remembered...

Soon after arriving in Canada, we lived in a hidden part of North Vancouver, BC, called Deep Cove. Our backyard there was a mass of brambles and vines. Indeed our yard was a tangle of blueberries and salmonberries with a few raspberries dotted here and there. We spent our first spring clearing paths so we could gather our bounty... and the rest of our time there trying to maintain those paths against nature's rampant power.

Turns out we had some serious competition for our berries. As the last house on a street at the foot of Mt. Seymour, we were a part of The Wild. Visitors included countless raccoons of course, but the most dramatic visitors were bears. We could always tell when they were around because the neighbours' dogs went wild. Guess bears are really smelly. Like our neighbours, we kept our garbage secure in our basement, but those berries! Bears loved our berries... and they loved our easy-access pathways. They came in the night. We never saw them in person, but those barking dogs warned us to stay indoors. We always saw evidence the next day... and those bushes kept creating more berries for all of us.

Many years later, driving on Salt Spring Island, we stopped and picked berries on the sides of the roads. I wondered then, if bears shared those bushes, too.

Now, I get my berries from the grocery store... and when I'm lucky, local markets.

I always think about the bears... and how generations of both our species keep sharing our treasures.
...
Thank you to David's sister Annie, for this perfect pic of your yummy Portland picks.
...
This month, I invite you to let all your berry feasts
remind you of the bears—and Kurt Vonnegut's urging:
      . . .  please notice when you are happy,
       And exclaim or murmur or think at some point,
      If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.

June 2016

Exploring Esperanto ~ Finding Haiku...

Some link somewhere led me to find out just what Esperanto is. I'm enthralled... mostly because I'm grammar obsessive and this invented language from the late 19th century is constructed with gloriously simple and consistent grammar... and vocabulary... and pronunciation! I found a neat site to learn and explore, lernu!. What it lacks in graphics it makes up for in earnestness. There's even a Toronto bunch who meet and speak Esperanto not far from my home! I'm trying it all out at Duolingo and finding it fun and incredibly easy.

A friend at work is from France. He tells me there's even an Esperanto version of Tintin! This month's pic is the cover of a book of Esperanto haiku. It's called Senokulvitre (which means "without eyeglasses") and it's by Steven D. Brewer. He and his brother learned Esperanto when in school they still write and speak it. Seems people become devotees.

Here's a sample from his book. It's called hajik:

la mondo estas
     mola kaj bonveniga…
          senokulvitre
                     ~
          the world is
soft and inviting…
     without glasses

I'm inspired to try my own tranlation of my email sign-off:
Pri la abelo la floro ne sonĝas. Ĝi floras kaj la abelo venas.
~
The flower doesn't dream of the bee. It blooms and the bee comes.

Luke Skywalker Day 2016

That's it... grab your light sabres today...
y muchas cervezas mañana!!!

May 2016

Sunrise on an elusive spring slides over the Don Valley...

As I've often shown you in these past few years, from my balcony I overlook the western sunset view of our city..The lights of the skyline amaze me still. Every night.

But lo! I also overlook this sunrise in glorious reflection. Every morning. Sometimes it's SO bright I must close the curtains for a little while, just to be able to check my email. Then as the sun rises into the sky it enlightens more and more of the valley's sides and eventually its floor... wherein zooms the morning rush-hour traffic.

From this perch I will be monitoring the green-to-come. It's not here yet, but I share hope with people I meet on the elevator, in the grocery store line-up and on the subway. We are all impatient and we are all filled with hope... and a burning desire to complain about the heat.
...
And again, from Kurt Vonnegut:
       I urge you to please notice when you are happy,
       And exclaim or murmur or think at some point,
      If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.

April 2016

My Balcony Buddha's got cold toes...

Saved this til now.
If I'd sent it on the First
You would have thought
It an April Fool's prank.

We wish it were.
But wishes aren't horses
And we beggars still have a cold,
Wet and snowy walk ahead.

This Buddha doesn't complain.
He sits and steadfastly
Collects alms of flakes.
Cuz he's soooo here now.

My here now is cozy...
Inside looking out,
With a nice cup of
Hot chocolate to sustain.

I'll watch through glass
As our here becomes
The long-awaited now
Of sandals and lemonade.

Then I'll try to learn from
This same balcony Buddha
Not to complain too loudly
About the heat.

Mar 2016

Steam rises as we all seek warmth at sunset on Valentine's Day...

We had snow and winds and the general stay-home-and-watch-Netflix kind of cold. Then we slid into a pseudo spring. Some brave souls even went out this past weekend in shorts! Not I, of course, but I did enjoy walking about my bustling neighbourhood in shoes instead of boots!

In Toronto we know we still have at least another 4 to 6 weeks of Netflix before we can trust the sun again. Now Anwar Knight's telling us to gird ourselves for 6-12 cm of snow... arriving by the time you're reading this.

In like a lion, eh?

Thanks to my new windows, I'm staying cozy this year.

And... thanks to a lovely gift from Peter, these cozy evenings I'm adding Metropolitan Opera On Demand to my Netflix cocooning time.

You?

2016 Feb

Canada Post keeps making history...
too bad most of us have given up on snails.

No broken arm, I'm just late, but I'm including a little Valentine heart for everybody!

This Year of the Fire Monkey portends a time where anything can happen. This cheeky animal bursts with exuberance, bringing a lightening fast pace and fantastical motivation. The Monkey increases communication, humor and wit, helping us get through stressful times with grace and ease. Business flourishes and risks tend to pan out. The Monkey’s gift is the ability to find unconventional solutions to old problems. Daring to be different can lead to success.

Overall advice: be prepared to work hard and stand up for what you deserve.
...
and never, ever forget Vonnegut's request:

I urge you to please notice when you are happy,
And exclaim or murmur or think at some point,

"If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

Jan 2016

The Empire State Building Shows Off...

New Year's Day brought snow to my hilltop perch above the Don Valley... and earlier this week Kate's new New Jersey perch showed off NYC's seasonal sparkle. Yes, I spent a happy Christmas week in Union City, hanging with Kate, lazing with Jessica Jones and London Spy and more HGTV than anyone could possibly guess is even possible. Upon David's return from Portland we entrained for the greatest tacos in this Texan's life... at Manhattan's Chelsea Market, followed by memories of Italy with deep chocolate gelato at Eataly on 5th Avenue!

I'm looking forward to a year of creative joy and reflection... and remembering Jack Cheng's entreaty, I wish us all a year that is "restorative, overwhelming, spent with loved ones, quiet with solitude, everything, everything."

Yes, especially everything!

...

and never, ever forget Vonnegut's request:

I urge you to please notice when you are happy,
And exclaim or murmur or think at some point,

"If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

 

Dec 2015

Memories of Ponte Vecchio...

Looking over the year past is the task of the month. Our media is filled with lists of the best books, movies, songs, TV shows, news, etc. ad infinitum. On a personal level we try to make sense of how our own memories stack up as a part of the whole. AND this year I have some remarkable memories. Looking through my image files for this month's missive showed me events and adventures that have excited and nurtured my heart.

The end of the month, then, brings us the opportunity to determine what we want from our new year. Like the people crossing the Ponte Vecchico in Florence, we all need to prepare for our journey and to know where we're going... and maybe even why.

Resolutions seem rigid to me and they tend to fail when they confront an obstacle. In my world, determinations are purposeful intentions, giving rise to flexible decisions that enable me to stay in tune with my intentions as Time finds ways to muddy the waters around me. See?

I've been writing some new things recently and I look forward to telling you about them by the time the coming year starts feeling a little old around its edges. In this way my year past is carrying over into my year-to-come. I always relish my New Year's Eve review of last year's determinations and setting my new intentions. I like keeping my list to just a few major notes, to create a workable chord for the whole year. Some years I even choose a theme song to represent my new intentions. Of course, because I obsess, I make my notes to myself with beautiful type and enjoy choosing colours, backgrounds, and textures that enhance my determinations.

I invite you to review your own year past and to prepare your own notes to yourself of determinations all ready for New Year's Eve. Write them by hand on a little cocktail napkin as you raise your glass if you like. See what you think...

and remember Vonnegut's request:
I urge you to please notice when you are happy,
And exclaim or murmur or think at some point 
"If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."

Another November 11th

Remembering Van...

With warmest thanks to Van's son Julian
for this image and more.

It's almost 11:11 of 11-11-11
But this isn't about numbers…
A simple row of ones.
Or maybe it is.

It's about the number 1
Already being too many.

It's about forcing
Sweet innocent children
To become trained killers.
It's about sending them out
To kill and be killed.

The number 1 Is already too many.

I met Arthur Charles VanTowsey
In Sydney. He was already 60.
He told of his youth in Auckland.
House filled with musicians
And singers from afar...
Guests of his
Pianist and organist father Arthur Cyril
And his
Opera singer mother Mamie.
There was always noise
In that home...
Noise of rehearsals,
Noise of friendships,
Noise of children.

In his early work
Van delivered telegrams
First on his push bike
And later on his motorbike.
He carried little tree seedlings
And planted them along is routes.
Go to Auckland and look for them.

It was a time and place
Of quiet confidence 
That each person
Could (and would)
Make a difference
For the benefit of all.

Van and his mates
Felt the distant sting
Of England's raging
Push against the Nazis.
They tried to understand
Why the US was not part.

But knowing their part,
This band of friends
Rushed to join the fight.

They trained together.
They became defenders
Of the just
And killers
Of the unjust.
They eagerly awaited
Their time to get
Over there.
Units trained and were sent out.
Units trained and were sent out.
Units trained and were sent out.
And Van noticed that
Training periods were being
Shortened and each battalion
Was sent out sooner and sooner
Than the one before,
Each training always less.

Van wrote to the prime minister
Protesting that the jewels of
New Zealand's future
Were being sent unprepared
To certain slaughter.
The prime minister
Did not respond.

Van and his mates
Were sent to England,
Then onward to Egypt,
And finally to Crete.
They fought.
They died.
In the midst of one battle
Van watched as his boyhood friend
Pushed a trolley of supplies:
A sudden blast
Blew off his head.
His hands remained on the trolley
And his body continued
To walk forward headless...
Before finally collapsing.
At the end of that day
Arthur Charles VanTowsey lived,
Wounded but alive,
One of only five left
Of the original 21st Battalion
Out of New Zealand.
The last of the band.
The last of the hope.

I remember Van's tears
Each Remembrance Day
I spent with him in Oz.

It wasn't abstract for him.
The number 1
IS
Already too many.

Bette Forester
Toronto, about 10:15 am 11 Nov 11

Nov 2015

Sunny & hot in San Antonio...

Yes, Texas. Twas my university reunion... a Big Event.Trinity University is alma mater to a slew of us still around to talk about it. It's mostly perched atop the cliff of an old quarry. From there one can see for miles around, including the San Antonio skyline. That's why it's called the Skyline Campus. That's the upper campus. The lower campus sits at the bottom of that cliff face. All beautiful and dramatic. The school itself started in 1869 and moved to its current campus in 1952 with buildings designed by now-famed architect, O'Neil Ford.

I attended the reunion with Phoebe, the woman I met during my time at Trinity. The woman you've seen on these pages before. She who now lives in Portland. She who weaves. For years Phoebe was among those who wove tapestries for Mark Adams, including these that now hang at the San Francisco airport Terminal 2. We were both sculpture majors at Trinity, under the tutelage of one Philip John Evett. The one and only. He's now retired from teaching. His current work is more vibrant than ever. Go see.

So: top pic shows Phoebe et moi as we wandered about in that 35° C (95° F) sun, Phoebe with Henry Moore (there's a Barbara Hepworth only a short walk away!), me with Evett, and lastly the now-remodelled and expanded art building where we spent so many hours drawing, painting, carving and welding all those years ago. Wandering the hallways and peering into the classroom-studios I felt the lure of The Work and memories of meeting others who also felt that lure then, too.

Evett's show here, was mounted to honour him during our reunion. Lots of us returned to stand with him again, to admire his work and just to remember. Somehow he remembered all of us.

After our reunion weekend, Phoebe and I adjourned to the gracious old Menger Hotel in downtown San Antonio, across the street from the Alamo. There we wandered the old-made-new River Walk and revisited some favourite haunts, including breakfast at Shilo's Delicatessen, a landmark for longer than even we can remember. PLUS, after all these years, I finally met Phoebe's three siblings! They joined us at the Menger and we meandered some more together and celebrated with some perfect Mexican food above the River at Mexican Manhattan.

I returned to a Don Valley that's gradually merging greens into oranges and yellows and daily adding more in preparation for just giving up and dropping everything until the light returns. I do love my Canadian seasons. Snow and ice, not so much.

Have a great Mo/November
And
Be sure to remember
To remember
On the eleventh:
Vonnegut
Et al.
His birthday
And pleas
For humanity.

AND
As former Trinity dean
Coleen Grissom reminded,
I entreat you with some
Always apropos
Kurt Vonnegut words:

I urge you to please notice when you are happy,
And exclaim or murmur or think at some point,

"If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

Oct 2015

PDX threads found in New Jersey...

Kate and David (the David from Portland, not last month's David from Florence!) have bought a condo in Union City! Just next to Hoboken. The day they they got their keys they celebrated by planting their little square foot of old PDX carpet, Q.E.D.

Some of you might ask, What? Why? But you others know: originally designed by SRG Architects and installed in the Portland International Airport in 1987, Portlanders have since marked their departures and returns with pictures of their feet planted somewhere on the many acres of this carpet. Or their dog on the carpet. Or their donut on the carpet. These days the PDX carpet even has its own Instagram account where they post their images: https://instagram.com/pdxcarpet/

This year has marked retirement for the iconic carpet—much to the dismay of locals and visitors alike. I was fortunate to have seen the original carpet for myself when in Portland for Thanksgiving 2013. The new design uses similar colours, but it's not the same. Not the same at all. Google it.

The good news is that the old carpet has reappeared in many clever guises. This square, of course, but there are also framed squares and sling back chairs and magazine racks. Google them.

And speaking of Portland... Phoebe, now of Portland, and I are shortly going to our university reunion in San Antonio, Texas. We are all aflutter with excitement and plans. We hope to see friends and profs... in particular our scultpure prof, Philip John Evett: http://www.philipevett.com/

But, back to Kate and David in Union City. They are busy painting and packing and dreading the overwhelming manual labour that is moving... all to come to fruition in these next three weeks... all while they're working full time. I invite all of you to join me in sending them happy and restful vibes.

Or you're welcome to just drop by their Brooklyn apartment and help them carry heavy boxes down the stairs!

Happy October ya'll.

Sept 2015

 KIDNAPPED AT BILLY BISHOP AIRPORT

I thought I was off to visit Kate in Brooklyn... but that all changed very quickly when she and David met me at Billy Bishop Airport as I emerged from the new 10-stories-deep tunnel.

I didn't find out where we were going until we arrived in Rome about 7 hours later!

We visited the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel, where a kind guard suggested I might be more comfortable in a wheelchair. Yes! David was my pusher and I was able to see everything with no compromises. There were no photos permitted in the Sistine Chapel, but it looks like they each grabbed one of all the necks craning upwards and Kate took one of the floor, which she proclaimed to be underrated.

That afternoon we took a fast (250 km/h !) train to Florence where another surprise awaited: Peter and Lisl joined us! The next day we ALL visited my obsessively favourite sculpture, Michelangelo's David. And later, the Uffizi Gallery, home to lots of art including Botticelli's Birth of Venus. Peter became my wheelchair pusher there and we accidentally exited the gallery. He had to find a way back in to return the chair after the entrance closing time!

We relaxed and chatted over wine on our airbnb apt’s rooftop terrace then ate another fabulous meal nearby.

Peter and Lisl were off to Athens to a wedding the next morning. We hung out in Florence another day then returned to Rome and visited the Vatican again: this time to see Michelangelo's Pietà, along with St. Peter's Basilica.

I’ve made a slideshow to show you some highlights, including the St. Peter's Piazza lady's lav and the Pope's chair collection and poetry pasted to Florentine walls.

We ate glorious food, especially gnocchi and gelato. We wandered cobblestoned streets and gawked. We saw lots of art, some with bees found with David’s eagle-eyes in the Vatican Museum. In Florence Kate spotted some Gucci fashion windows featuring bee details. Kate and her David even found a cat sanctuary on the site of Caesar's assassination!

Go watch my little slideshow… it’s only 2.5 minutes and you can see us all smiling a lot. OK I also cried from time to time. It was obviously my party and I wanted to.
https://youtu.be/jI-FqBDoh38

AND for those of you inclined to poetry, here’s a sonnet from the master himself:

for Tommasco de’Cavalieri
by Michelangelo Buonarroti

With your fair eyes a charming light I see,
    For which my own blind eyes would peer in vain;
    Stayed by your feet the burden I sustain
    Which my lame feet find all too strong for me;
Wingless upon your pinions forth I fly;
    Heavenward your spirit started me to strain;
    E’en as you will, I blush and blanch again,
    Freeze in the sun, burn ‘neath a frosty sky.
Your will includes and is the lord of mine;
    Life to my thoughts within your heart is given;
    My words begin to breathe upon your breath:
Like to the moon am I, that cannot shine
    Alone; for lo! our eyes see nought in heaven
    Save what the living sun illuminated.

Aug 2015

It's not all about the storm...

Yesterday we Torontonians (and beyond) were entranced by a dramatic wall of storm that rolled in suddenly and made a lot of light and noise. I watched from my balcony, then rushed inside as the cloud totally engulfed me. The rain beat against my windows... then it was all over. The clouds retreated overhead taking their lights and noises east with them. Dark time was all clear, then later another line of rain and lights and noises. Our morning brought another glorious sunrise... facing west I see it all in reflection of the city skyline.

I'll admit, I took this partic sunrise a couple of days ago, just to catch that blue moon!

July 2015

Batman & Petunia:
a tale of 2 cats & 1 pizza box

Kate and David met in California over 3 years ago now.
When they moved to Brooklyn together their respective cats
came with them. Batman & Petunia have been mostly
less enthusiastic than their people about sharing their spaces.
They have found common ground in watching out the window
for squirrels on the fire escape. They sit at full attention,
side-by-side perhaps even forgetting about each other!
Their latest dispute, however, is over this pizza box.
Could it be that each recognizes how perfectly the box graphics
echo the arch of furry sleeping back? After all,
they are cats and vain.

Thank you to Kate for the on-going updates!

June 2015

Discovering Ethopian delights...
warm friendship and a spice-laden adventure.
~to be continued.

Thank you to Nancy (Hoochie's mama) for introducing me
to more of what our city has to offer...
and welcome to Nancy's wife Katherine
who will be joining the Toronto adventure later this month.
June is indeed the month of brides!   

May 2015

Sands of Time... 
Waiting patiently for our footprints
To delight with our dance!
from Kate on Coney Island
when it was spring
for that one day last month 

Apr 2015

Gumbos are made of this...
First onions and garlic,
Of course.
Next chorizo,
The real Mexican kind.
Then tomatoes, herbs,
And the most important:
OKRA!
How I rejoice
When I find okra.
I spent too many years
Without
Okra.
Bleak deprivation...
Now restored:
Crop added to
Canadian rotations
And tastes.
I re-discover
Each spring.
As if the first gumbo
Since time began.
Ah!

Mar 2015

Memories are made of this...

Objects created over time
Discover each other
On a shelf in my studio.
Guy Willingham, beloved husband
To my favourite Aunt Florence
Sat on his Dallas front porch
And whittled this little figure
Of me! He also whittled a figure
Of my dad. I'll show you another time.
The little bowl was gifted to me by
Philip John Evett, my university
Sculpture prof who showed me
The magic that can inform
Shapes and textures... as well as colours.
The bowl is pre-Columbian and sits
Exactly in my palm.
Do you suppose its ancient creator
Made it while sitting on his own front porch?
Did it sit exactly in his own palm?
The clay and glass piece is a more recent
Creation made by sculptor Bill Grace
In Barbados. Not long before his
Recent passing he sent me
A rather silly e-mail joke
For no apparent reason,
Explaining it with the words
I put on the sticky note
Behind my little whittled head.
Bill claimed it a typo.
I think not.
Now I bring them all together
And present them to you,
Just beecause.

Chinese New Year 2015

GUNG HAY FAT CHOY!
Canada Post does it again.

Feb 2015

Groundhog Day in TO
Brrrrrrr!

Jan 2015

I offer here
A memory from an old slide.
The year is 1965.
Twas January then, too.
My graduate show
At Trinity University
In San Antonio, Texas.
Maybe there will be
More memories to come.

This new year
Begins on Throwback Thursday.
I’m thinking this may portend
A whole Throwback Year.
We’ll see, shall we?

In the meantime
The idea spawns
Feelings of fond anticipation
For faces long forgotten.
I scan slides from a past
That traces my traces
And those of my family,
My kids in particular, of course…
And those of my friends.
Faces and names
I can now re-connect.
I even Google some I’ve lost
To see what they’re up to
These days.

This one lives in New Mexico
And blogs about chorizo.
This one is still in Sydney
And owns his own business.
This one married a guy
I remember in a totally other context.
Did I introduce them?
I don’t remember for sure, but
I think
I did.

They all look so young.
I wish we had taken selfies
In those days.
I’d like to remember me,
Young too.

And food.
I wish we had taken food shots.
Chicken-fried steak in Dallas,
An option I seldom chose,
But which now I somehow miss…
And cafeteria feasts in Highland Park.
I remember some glorious
Meals in Mexico:
Unlimited guacamole and pollo pebil.
Yum.
Mixed grills in Oz.
I love that you don’t
Have to choose among
Your favourite bacon,
Sausage or ham.
You get to have them all.
Yum.

Shrimp-filled avocados
In Maroochydore…
Where koalas hung out
Sleeping in avocado trees
During the day, then
Crossed the road at sunset
For the eucalyptus leaves…
Because koalas never drink
In the home of the black swans.

And what about that
Thai liver with peanuts
In Seattle?
No slides of that
But it was the best liver
On the planet.
Besides, I was born
In Seattle.
But that was before
I ever took any slides…
So I have an excuse
For not recording that part.

Then there are all the
Places to remember.
Mexican cities and pyramids.
Sydney’s zebra crossings
And her Harbour Bridge
And her Opera House
The year it opened.

Vancouver, the lush…
Where even I could
Keep houseplants alive.
It rained the day
Three-year-old Peter
Held a baby koala
In Brisbane and I dared
Not carry my camera
Through a flooding deluge.
I’ll have to remember
That in my mind.
I do, still.
Trust me.

Of course, I have all those
Black and white Kodak moments
That my parents snapped.
I definitely look young in those!
Then there are the ones
From my mum’s and dad’s
Younger days.
And some from even before:
All ancestors
Whom I need to label
For familial posterity
‘Cause I’m the keeper.

Look how cute little Peter
And little Kate were.
They still are.

Slides turn into prints.
Eventually digitizing
Catches up with the
Already digital.

Throwback Fifteen, then.
I’m tracing my own history
Along with the history
Of home photography:
Old posed sepia, Kodak snaps,
35mm slides, then colour prints
Processed by Black’s.
All give way to digital camera
And eventually iPhone.
Oh! And Photoshop!!!
Oh my!

Seeing, after all.
Is believing…
And believing can be
Retouched.
Like all memories:
Polished for emotional
Impact…
     And sharing.

Happy New Year!
Happy reminiscing!

~Bette Forester, Toronto, 1 Jan 2015

Dec 2014

Celebrating doughnuts and more...

As a part of their pursuit of doughnuts across the country—and to celebrate Kate's recent birthday—she and David partook of some of their favourite circular confections at this doughnuttery in NYC. What? You can't see the doughnuts? Well, that's because this is the small room away from the action, wherein one becomes closeted alone with mirrored walls, disco ball, sparkly lights... and shiny water-bearing accoutrements. Yes. Indeed. This is the WC at Doughnut Plant in the Chelsea Hotel.

Seems to me like a perfect start to holiday lighting!

Nov 2014

Celebrating black cats... and the women they enchant

I decided to start November a day early in order to honour midnight felines and their oh-so-willing femmes fatales: in this case one Samantha cat who adopted Kate a few years ago in NYC, long before Batman... perhaps tho, bringing Kate dreams of Batman, later to be realized in Berkeley... and proving Dirk Gently style, the fundamental interconnectedness of all phenomena in the universe.

Have fun treating and/or tricking tonight.

And for our new month:
Have a great Mo/November and
Be sure to remember
To remember
On the eleventh.
Vonnegut
Et al.
His birthday
And pleas
For humanity.

Oct 2014

Dennis channeled Gaudi again...

In November 2012, I showed you some Gaudi paving tiles in Barcelona visited and shot by my friend Dennis. Through a regrettable set of circumstances both Dennis and I have lost his original image. The calendar version remains in my archives, of course, but we can now rejoice: Dennis went back to Barcelona and returned with more pix of lots of Gaudi paving tiles. These pink ones took my fancy. Yours?

Sep 2014

Throwback September

Today is the first day of school here in Toronto. 

I remember my first day: my mother made this soft Chambray dress in pale blue with a white collar and navy blue bows. She also made a matching dress for my doll Mary Lou. My shoes were polished navy blue when I left home, but when I came home they were covered in caliche dust from the playground.

My hair was permed, I wore my Disney Cinderella watch and I was very excited with my little plaid satchel as it was essential to feeling like a real school girl at last. Inside I carried a quarter for my lunch and in the afternoons I brought my art home for my parents to admire. Inside the satchel's little flap my mum taped an extra quarter in case I lost my daily quarter. I never lost my lunch money, but I gave the extra quarter to friends a few times when they lost theirs.

That was also the time I began dancing lessons, piano lessons and art lessons. My parents determined I should try all three for two years in hopes I would find I preferred one. And I did: dance! I didn't pick up art again until my last year of high school... and by that time I was teaching dancing and dancing professionally while I continued my own lessons.

Aug 2014

August washes in bringing summer’s left-overs.

Where I am, summer’s been only a glimmer of “better-than-winter” this year. Today bodes better, unless the rain returns.

Kate was recently in Ponang in South Korea, where summer was overpoweringly hot and where she found this starfish washed ashore. 

What are my summer left-overs? Open windows. Iced tea on the balcony. 

New streetcar-tracks… for new streetcars due the end of the month. 

Walks in Riverdale Park. Farmers’ market in Withrow Park. Always carrying my umbrella. 

Dough Bakeshop’s ice cream sandwiches made with their own choc chip cookies and chocolate Kiwartha ice cream.

OK… gotta get to Dough right now. It’s a nice walk there and the very-vocal orange tabby that hangs out on the corner just might greet me along my way.

It is still summer, after all. Enjoy

July 2014

Canada Day 2014

Knowing plants do not generally thrive in my care, when Peter gave me this orchid he said (as he has said before), "Enjoy this while it's alive."

Hey guys! That was over a year ago. Named Harvey, he's made it through my move and our cold dark winter hiding behind thermal curtains that helped to keep the freezing winds out. Then, ta-dah!!! New blooms! Way to go Harvey!

Canada's 147th birthday is today. Just check out Facebook. It's all there. Tonight I will watch fireworks from my balcony. In the meantime, I put a little red maple leaf on my Canada Day postmark here, in honour of Don Watt, the man who designed the Canadian flag and whom I called boss... and friend.

June 2014

Finally! Bring on Summer!

Susan, whom Kate calls her New York mum, just returned from a magical sojourn in Italy. Last month I challenged her to provide an image for this month's calendar. The result is this day on the Adriatic at Francavilla al Mare, just south of Pescara. It had been raining and the early afternoon when she arrived was just warm enough to head to the beach and hoop for about 1/2 hour.

That's Susan: always prepared to make the most of every moment. Obviously.

May 2014

Look at this guy.
I guess he’s seen it all.
People gawking.
     (Sigh.) Happens every day.
They’re surprised that he walled his mate into her nest
And brought her and their brood food for 8 months!
     So? Don’t you look after your family?
No spring yet in Toronto?
     Yup, not surprised.
Rob Ford’s going into rehab?
     Wait! What?
_____________
I am trés fortunate to have friends who not only travel to wonderful exotic places, but who also take wonderful images
and show us all. Éric, friend and proofreader extraordinaire who’s kept me covered for lots of years, recently returned from Penang.
There he found this wreathed hornbill hanging out in George Town’s zoo. I invite you to go grab the high resolution
version (see below) and stare into that eye… whole worlds are in there… maybe he’ll teach you to meditate.

Tell me about it… and if you’re inspired, give him a name.

Susan, take note. I’ll be waiting.

Apr 2014

Elliot & Lilly basking in the warm sun!!!

Yes! At last, Spring is trying to assert herself and the Tiff shelf is delighted witness.

Time on by balcony reveals some remaining heaps of snow from cleared areas like the ice rink in the park and still some coating under some of the trees on the west side of the valley. Neighbours are all out walking to and fro without having to heed ice. We are happy people. I'm outta my boots and into real shoes. Can sandals be far behind???

Pi Day 2014

PI ACTIVITIES FOR YOU

1. Write a Pi-Ku:
That's haiku with a difference: First line has 3 syllables, second line has 1, and the third line has 4. Still my fave example from NPR:

So Southern
I
Can’t say Pi right.
-------
2. Measure a can of 3 tennis balls. Measure across the top, then the height... then around.
-------
3. Order in pizza... add a salad with everything sliced into circles... and sing Happy Birthday to Albert.

Mar 2014

March arrives... like some sort of a semi-tame lion.

Well, tame compared to Feb's exit of whiteouts, walls of snow and windchills of -38°. Saturday before this snow I opened my thermal drapes and went out to stand on my balcony to celebrate a few hours of barely freezing temps. The sun was bright and I stood looking at my sights and listening to thunks of the kids playing hockey in the rink. Then a bit after midnight, I returned during this light snowfall to share another night skyline with you. No more thunking, but you can see the rink in the lower left corner... and the weather app is predicting more -30° windchills for Sunday night.

Of course the rest of you all across north America are having your own freezing tribulations... guaranteeing us all stories of the winter of '14. They will be dramatic stories even if we didn't have to walk 5 miles to school every day.

It's hard to believe that in just one week from today we will have to stop wasting our daylight again. Don't forget to spring forward.

And keep warm, eh?

Feb 2014: Beware, it's long!

Yes, it's the Year of the Horse.
Just the word, 
HORSE…

As a girl I was a great fan of
Roy Rogers and his ever-present Trigger.
Oh, how crushed was I when I overhead
Aunt Mary saying to Aunt Florence,
"I don't know what she sees in that Roy Rogers.
"His eyes are too small and he's
"Not handsome at all."
So I didn't talk to her about him any more.
But I did still talk about Trigger!
After all horses were the
Main reason I liked cowboys.

As an adult I learned that my mother
Never liked cowboy movies,
But when I was little…
And my father travelled...
She took me every week
To see Roy and Trigger.
And Dale and Buttermilk.
And Gene and Champion.
And Hop-A-Long and Silver.
She even named her little
Willys Jeep car Nellie Belle
In honour of my enjoyment
Of these western forays.

Driving with my parents
We would seek white horses.
I learned to lick my thumb and
Place its wet spot on the palm
Of my other hand, then make
A fist and slap it quickly and loudly
Onto that same wet spot.
It was called "stamping white horses."
Do you know of this game?
There was no score kept…
Just spotting and stamping.

Once visiting my grandparents'
Little gas-station-cum-general-store
In Van Alstyne, Texas, I fell in love
With a clock in a horseshoe
Next to which stood a golden Trigger.
It was some kind of painted cast metal.
I don't know if the Horse Clock was
One of the items for sale or a vague
Attempt at décor, but I was totally smitten.
And my grandparents, in the
Great tradition of all grandparents,
Gave. It. To. Me.
Again, the adult me knows
How this Horse Clock
Must have offended my mother's taste.
But I looooved it with all my heart.
Whenever we moved (which was often)
This same mother ensured
My Horse Clock took pride of position
Next to my bed where I could easily touch it
From my pillow.
Yes, I did learn to tell time
With the Horse Clock.

Other horses came over time.
On our frequent trips to Matamoros
And Nueva Laredo my mother
Helped me find the photographer
In the zocolo who always had a
Wooden Horse for posing upon.
My childhood scrapbook is spattered
With these images showing me
As I grew. There are even a few
From my late teen years
In happy counterpoint.
My blind almost Godmother, Sammie,
Even prevailed upon my mother
One time to help her climb aboard
One such steed so she could
Send me her picture like mine of yore.

During fourth and sixth grades
We lived in tiny Bartonville, Texas,
And there pastured an aging
And gentle Sadie for a neighbour.
Sadie let me lead her to our fence
So I could climb from fence to her back
And explore our vast four acres
Bareback.
I fed her carrot sticks that she
Delicately bit as I held them
And sugar cubes that she
Lipped from my open palm.
My mother, the city girl, later
Confessed her fears at the time.
I'm glad I didn't know.

When I was preggers with Peter
His dad and I visited friends
Who lived on a very remote ranch
In the mountains of northern Mexico.
One day, we rode our horses
For so many hours
Our hosts sent out cowboy
Search parties to find us
And ensure my baby's safety.
Later Peter and I rode horses
On bridle path at Lake Louise.
He remembers the horses' names
Still.

Of course, Little Peter and Little Kate
Each had their own horse on springs.
I painted them white, because,
Like my mother, the aesthetic
Has always been more important to me
Than the commercial.
Peter called his horse "Wrong"
And Kate called her's "Mine."
They know why.

What's that other little horse
On the calendar?
The one in the middle?
I discovered it while looking
For something else
And kept it because
It's sweet.

Have a very happy
Year of the Wood Horse,
My friends.
------------

In China it's known as a time for victories, unexpected adventure and surprising romance! The horse is associated with fire and therefore always ready to race on… during the year of horse, we must be careful not to let that fire consume the wood. The lesson this year is to run, but to plan and to pace ourselves, to ensure we reach our ultimate goals.

In western astrology, Mercury is about to go retrograde again from Feb 5th to 27th. Back up everything. Double-check all your documents. Try to avoid entering into any new contract, but if you must, be prepared for delays. If you have an on-going contract negotiation, revisit areas you thought were settled… they might have come unstuck.