I barely wrote at all last year, but my editor and partner managed to find a few (possibly) worthy of a best-of post. Thus, this page has been udpated.
I miss blogging.
I love my job and I love leading our union. I love having a steady paycheque, too! But I miss my old life. #CantHaveEverything #StopWhining #YesIKnowItsAFirstWorldProblem
3.27.2016
a brief thought on ghomeshi (yoko ono was right)
 |
| In a country of 35 million |
Jian Ghomeshi: is good-looking; was a popular radio personality; was immediately framed as a victim by media and members of the public who claimed not to understand why none of this had come to light earlier.
Jian Ghomeshi: was the subject of 23 separate allegations of sexual harassment or assault; was arrested and charged with seven counts of sexual assault, and one count of assault by choking.
Jian Ghomeshi: pled not guilty; was tried; was acquitted on all counts.
Next time you hear about a woman who was sexually assaulted and did not report, think of Jian Ghomeshi. Women put themselves through hell to help other survivors and hold rapists accountable. And this is the outcome. The wonder is that anyone reports at all!
This is like the Rodney King video: witness testimony so parsed and distorted and taken out of context as to lose the reality of its meaning.
This is like an African American on trial in 1960 Mississippi: no matter what the evidence or how great the cause, the outcome is certain. (In this analogy the survivors are the black defendant.)
Women in North America have achieved greater equality than in many places on earth. But even so, Yoko Ono was right: woman is the nigger of the world.
* * * *
Chatelaine: Lucy DeCoutere on the Ghomeshi disaster: The actress and Air Force captain speaks out about the crushing aftermath of the Jian Ghomeshi trial.
Also in Chatelaine: What I wish I’d known before testifying in the Ghomeshi trial, an interview with "Witness #1".
Vice: What the Jian Ghomeshi Trial Tells Us About Victim Blaming, Credibility, and Traumatic Memories
3.20.2016
fascist shift: donald trump in context
Many years back, I used to blog about a phenomenon called fascist shift. I borrowed the term from Naomi Wolf's essential The End of America, but the concept was something I had been thinking about for many years. In brief, fascist shift asks, What if we're all looking for jackboots and Sieg Heil and tanks rolling down Pennsylvania Avenue, and while we're keeping our eyes peeled for a scene from a black-and-white newsreel, a different brand of fascism moves in and sets up shop? What if today's fascism is more insidious and less obvious - and what if it's dressed up in a democracy costume? What if while you're saying That can happen here and But they wouldn't do that, it already has, and they did.
When you scroll through Wolf's ten indicators of fascism, are there any not seen in the US? And have any of them been repaired or reversed under Obama? Not a one.
Now, though, Donald Trump's presidential bid and the many millions of Americans who support him bring America's fascist shift into better focus.
* * * *
It's difficult to analyze Trump on this level, because most people only want to talk about who will become the next US President. Whereas I think (a) it's incredibly obvious who will become the next POTUS, (b) it doesn't really matter, and (c) any pretense of democracy in the US is a complete sham. In this post from 2012 (which is a good read, by the way), I wrote:
I cannot understand - I mean, for the life of me, I cannot understand - how anyone of voting age could possibly think Bernie Sanders is going to win the Democratic nomination. It is not even remotely possible. (For more on that, see my post "bernie sanders, the pope, and the politics of amnesia".)
Bernie Sanders running as a Democrat is ultimately a betrayal of everything Sanders says he stands for. And if he ran as an independent and tried to build a movement, he'd be vilified by the people who now praise him, and everyone who dared vote for him would be accused of electing the Republican. Such is the tragedy of the American left.
And despite Trump's performance in the primaries, I still believe, as I have all along, that the Republican National Party will not give the nomination to Donald Trump. I don't think the corporate oligarchs that control the duopoly parties want a clown as their figurehead. I don't know (or care) how they'll manage it, but my lack of imagination will not impede them.
It looks like the RNC has decided to sit this one out, as each party does from time to time. They can run a weak candidate, and simply let Hillary Clinton win. And why not? A Hillary Clinton presidency will be every bit as Republican as the Republicans. It's a win-win for the corporate masters.
* * * *
But this doesn't mean I don't recognize the significance of Trump's campaign. Trump - not the man, but the performance, and the audience's reaction to it - is a milestone of sorts. Trump is American fascism unmasked.
In a discussion on Facebook, a friend wondered when was the last time a presidential candidate from a major party spoke about hatred and bigotry in such bald, uncoded terms. The most recent example we could think of was George Wallace. (Todd Gitlin had a similar thought.) That's going back a ways.
I may have forgotten some gems from Michele Bachmann's campaign, but Bachmann never commanded the attention that Trump now enjoys, garnering a full 23 times the media attention given to Sanders. The US and Canadian media are enthralled. What will he say next? How far will this go? His entire campaign is one long vamp for the camera.
* * * *
The mainstream Canadian media (and Canadians who look to those sources) seem to take the US at face value. The skepticism and caution applied to Canadian politics ends at the (Democrat) White House door. Trump's open racism and bigotry shocks them, because Obama! They seem not to recognize that all the hatred of Obama and the worship of Trump are fueled by pure, undiluted racism. Much of the white working class - with no decent jobs, no bright future for their children, and no rescue in sight - cannot abide that a black man represents their country, and sits in a position of authority over them. The subtitle of this Barbara Ehrenreich piece says it all: "Downward mobility plus racial resentment is a potent combination with disastrous consequences."
Progressive USians know that both institutional and personal racism have never gone away. But, as someone said in that same Facebook conversation, for the last 40 years or so, most politicians have trained themselves to speak in code or to keep their mouths shut. But all the while, O'Reilly, Coulter, Limbaugh, Beck (and so on) have been stoking that hatred, keeping their audiences primed and ready. Now Trump comes along to cash in.
For me the surprise is not that so many Americans rally around hatred, bigotry, xenophobia, and violence. The surprise is that so many people are surprised! How did you all not know this about the US? A country founded on the genocide of its original inhabitants, built by slavery, justified by conquest, and made rich and powerful by imperialism. The United States, where property rights and the rights of the ruling class are sacrosanct above all, including human life.
For all its fears of communism (then) and terrorism (now), the US has only ever been in danger of takeover from fascism.
When you scroll through Wolf's ten indicators of fascism, are there any not seen in the US? And have any of them been repaired or reversed under Obama? Not a one.
Now, though, Donald Trump's presidential bid and the many millions of Americans who support him bring America's fascist shift into better focus.
* * * *
It's difficult to analyze Trump on this level, because most people only want to talk about who will become the next US President. Whereas I think (a) it's incredibly obvious who will become the next POTUS, (b) it doesn't really matter, and (c) any pretense of democracy in the US is a complete sham. In this post from 2012 (which is a good read, by the way), I wrote:
As always, I am completely blocking out all US electoral politics. I don't know anything about the campaigns, because I already know everything about them, without knowing a single detail. If you've followed one US election campaign since 1980, you've followed them all. They only change by a matter of degree: they get worse and worse.Nothing has changed in the intervening years. Including all the voters who seem not to understand what is happening.
I cannot understand - I mean, for the life of me, I cannot understand - how anyone of voting age could possibly think Bernie Sanders is going to win the Democratic nomination. It is not even remotely possible. (For more on that, see my post "bernie sanders, the pope, and the politics of amnesia".)
Bernie Sanders running as a Democrat is ultimately a betrayal of everything Sanders says he stands for. And if he ran as an independent and tried to build a movement, he'd be vilified by the people who now praise him, and everyone who dared vote for him would be accused of electing the Republican. Such is the tragedy of the American left.
And despite Trump's performance in the primaries, I still believe, as I have all along, that the Republican National Party will not give the nomination to Donald Trump. I don't think the corporate oligarchs that control the duopoly parties want a clown as their figurehead. I don't know (or care) how they'll manage it, but my lack of imagination will not impede them.
It looks like the RNC has decided to sit this one out, as each party does from time to time. They can run a weak candidate, and simply let Hillary Clinton win. And why not? A Hillary Clinton presidency will be every bit as Republican as the Republicans. It's a win-win for the corporate masters.
* * * *
But this doesn't mean I don't recognize the significance of Trump's campaign. Trump - not the man, but the performance, and the audience's reaction to it - is a milestone of sorts. Trump is American fascism unmasked.
In a discussion on Facebook, a friend wondered when was the last time a presidential candidate from a major party spoke about hatred and bigotry in such bald, uncoded terms. The most recent example we could think of was George Wallace. (Todd Gitlin had a similar thought.) That's going back a ways.
I may have forgotten some gems from Michele Bachmann's campaign, but Bachmann never commanded the attention that Trump now enjoys, garnering a full 23 times the media attention given to Sanders. The US and Canadian media are enthralled. What will he say next? How far will this go? His entire campaign is one long vamp for the camera.
* * * *
The mainstream Canadian media (and Canadians who look to those sources) seem to take the US at face value. The skepticism and caution applied to Canadian politics ends at the (Democrat) White House door. Trump's open racism and bigotry shocks them, because Obama! They seem not to recognize that all the hatred of Obama and the worship of Trump are fueled by pure, undiluted racism. Much of the white working class - with no decent jobs, no bright future for their children, and no rescue in sight - cannot abide that a black man represents their country, and sits in a position of authority over them. The subtitle of this Barbara Ehrenreich piece says it all: "Downward mobility plus racial resentment is a potent combination with disastrous consequences."
Progressive USians know that both institutional and personal racism have never gone away. But, as someone said in that same Facebook conversation, for the last 40 years or so, most politicians have trained themselves to speak in code or to keep their mouths shut. But all the while, O'Reilly, Coulter, Limbaugh, Beck (and so on) have been stoking that hatred, keeping their audiences primed and ready. Now Trump comes along to cash in.
For me the surprise is not that so many Americans rally around hatred, bigotry, xenophobia, and violence. The surprise is that so many people are surprised! How did you all not know this about the US? A country founded on the genocide of its original inhabitants, built by slavery, justified by conquest, and made rich and powerful by imperialism. The United States, where property rights and the rights of the ruling class are sacrosanct above all, including human life.
For all its fears of communism (then) and terrorism (now), the US has only ever been in danger of takeover from fascism.
3.13.2016
u.s. iraq war resisters are still in canada. call on justin trudeau to let them stay.
Remember the war resisters I used to blog about all the time? It may surprise you to learn that many are still in Canada. And are still fighting to stay.
For these men and women, it's as if the recent change of government never happened. Of course I realize that a handful of people from the US are not Justin Trudeau's top priority. Still, they are people of peace and conscience. They make Canada a better country. Accepting them makes Canada a better country. Their cause is just, and the help they need can be so easily provided.
* * * *
Justin Trudeau's Liberal government has made a decent start at reversing some of the immense damage wrought by Stephen Harper's Conservatives over the past decade. While the Liberals certainly will not rewind everything that needs undoing, Trudeau has taken (or announced he will take) some good first steps.
A November 2015 editorial in the Toronto Star noted three examples:
It's not all good news. Trudeau continued Harper's policies when he stood by the Conservatives' $15 billion agreement with Saudi Arabia's brutal dictatorship, selling it military equipment. I expected no different. The West doesn't stand up to Saudi Arabia, and Canada isn't about to go it alone.
But for the war resisters, the reversal that would be extremely easy. Trudeau can and should take a quick, multi-pronged approach: rescind Operational Bulletin 202 that singles out US war resisters for deportation, cease any deportation proceedings against US war resisters, implement a provision that would allow them to apply for permanent resident status, and discontinue litigation that defends the decisions and policies of the previous government. For an extra helping of justice, the Liberal Government could allow those war resisters who were deported or forced out to apply for permanent residence status, too.
Please take a few minute to write to your MP about this important issue. You can use handy backgrounder.
It is well past time to Let Them Stay.
For these men and women, it's as if the recent change of government never happened. Of course I realize that a handful of people from the US are not Justin Trudeau's top priority. Still, they are people of peace and conscience. They make Canada a better country. Accepting them makes Canada a better country. Their cause is just, and the help they need can be so easily provided.
* * * *
Justin Trudeau's Liberal government has made a decent start at reversing some of the immense damage wrought by Stephen Harper's Conservatives over the past decade. While the Liberals certainly will not rewind everything that needs undoing, Trudeau has taken (or announced he will take) some good first steps.
A November 2015 editorial in the Toronto Star noted three examples:
Justice Minister Jody Wilson-Raybould rang down the curtain ... on the Harper government’s unwarranted and unlawful attempt to prevent devout Muslim women from wearing face-coverings such as the niqab at citizenship ceremonies.In January 2016, CBC reported on some other issues that are in progress:
The Federal Court of Appeal rightly found the Muslim-phobic ban to be illegal, a violation of the Citizenship Act, which allows for the greatest possible religious freedom in administering the oath of citizenship. But the Tories, undeterred, decided to ask the Supreme Court to hear an appeal on the case. Wisely, Wilson-Raybould has now withdrawn that request.
The Liberal government has also asked the Federal Court to suspend proceedings in cases involving stripping people of citizenship, as Ottawa consults on a new policy.
Among the measures expected to be dealt with through new legislation:Trudeau has said he will withdraw Canada's CF-18 fighter jets by the end of March from the US-led bombing missions in Iraq and Syria.- Repealing the Conservatives' Bill C-24, which allows the government to strip Canadian citizenship from dual citizens who are convicted of terrorism-related offences.
- Repealing two other Conservative laws that the Liberals argue weaken the rights of trade unions. They are Bill C-377, which requires unions to disclose how they spend members' dues, as well as Bill C-525, which makes it harder for unions to organize in federally-regulated workplaces.
- Introducing parliamentary oversight for Canada's national security agencies, though the commitment to repeal parts of the previous government's anti-terrorism law, Bill C-51, is expected to come later.
It's not all good news. Trudeau continued Harper's policies when he stood by the Conservatives' $15 billion agreement with Saudi Arabia's brutal dictatorship, selling it military equipment. I expected no different. The West doesn't stand up to Saudi Arabia, and Canada isn't about to go it alone.
But for the war resisters, the reversal that would be extremely easy. Trudeau can and should take a quick, multi-pronged approach: rescind Operational Bulletin 202 that singles out US war resisters for deportation, cease any deportation proceedings against US war resisters, implement a provision that would allow them to apply for permanent resident status, and discontinue litigation that defends the decisions and policies of the previous government. For an extra helping of justice, the Liberal Government could allow those war resisters who were deported or forced out to apply for permanent residence status, too.
Please take a few minute to write to your MP about this important issue. You can use handy backgrounder.
It is well past time to Let Them Stay.
3.07.2016
diego is on tv! (and dogtopia is amazing.)
When we dropped off Tala and Diego for their vacation, a film crew from Breakfast Television was there. The results are here, and Diego is all over that video! (There doesn't seem to be a way to embed it, so please click!)
If you look carefully, you can see Tala in her crate, behind all the happy mayhem. Poor girl, she can only watch. That may seem unfair, but it's wonderful to know that the staff was taking care of her properly.
If you look carefully, you can see Tala in her crate, behind all the happy mayhem. Poor girl, she can only watch. That may seem unfair, but it's wonderful to know that the staff was taking care of her properly.
3.06.2016
last day and home
We spent our last day in Oregon poking around downtown Ashland, looking at scarves and jewelry and used books. We don't shop much when we travel, but there were a few things I was looking for on this trip, and I found them all. We also picked up this very amusing guide to New York City etiquette, and had a second great lunch at Brothers'. If you're ever in Ashland, go.
We also walked around a beautiful neighbourhood with the lovely Sophia in the stroller and her mom happy to be out of the house on a gorgeous spring-like day. The trees are in full blossom and daffodils are out. In early March?
We also enjoyed another dinner with D&E and Sophia. I swear she's grown since we've been here. I'm sad that I won't see her again for a long time. In fact, with my mother relocating to Oregon, and so many of my favourite people on the left coast, I find myself wondering why I'm living in the Toronto area. It's especially easy to feel that way after coming from the beautiful green of southern Oregon into the ugly gray of Mississauga. I like living here, but at the moment I'm not sure why.
The first few hours driving north from Ashland were beautiful. The interstate is only two lanes there; it winds through green mountain passes, with many cows and sheep grazing on the open range. We stopped at a truckstop diner for lunch, and it felt like we were still on vacation.
But what made me think the drive from Talent, Oregon to the Vancouver Airport was 10 hours? It was a bit more than 12 hours, and it rained for the last four. Then it was a slog through the rental car return to the marginal but overpriced airport hotel, take out food that ended up being enough to feed four people, and another 4 a.m. wake-up. Kind of a crappy ending to a great trip. But good music in my ears, plus a lot of coffee and (surprisingly good) airport food were very soothing, at least for me.
Something interesting we saw on I-5: huge signs from the libertarian right. "WAKE UP AMERICA OBAMA IS KILLING US". And another one we only partially saw as we drove by: "...DICTATOR OBAMA...". These were professionally made signs, not handwritten.
Also on I-5, you are told that JESUS DIED FOR SINNERS and other such statements. Create your own!
We also walked around a beautiful neighbourhood with the lovely Sophia in the stroller and her mom happy to be out of the house on a gorgeous spring-like day. The trees are in full blossom and daffodils are out. In early March?
We also enjoyed another dinner with D&E and Sophia. I swear she's grown since we've been here. I'm sad that I won't see her again for a long time. In fact, with my mother relocating to Oregon, and so many of my favourite people on the left coast, I find myself wondering why I'm living in the Toronto area. It's especially easy to feel that way after coming from the beautiful green of southern Oregon into the ugly gray of Mississauga. I like living here, but at the moment I'm not sure why.
The first few hours driving north from Ashland were beautiful. The interstate is only two lanes there; it winds through green mountain passes, with many cows and sheep grazing on the open range. We stopped at a truckstop diner for lunch, and it felt like we were still on vacation.
But what made me think the drive from Talent, Oregon to the Vancouver Airport was 10 hours? It was a bit more than 12 hours, and it rained for the last four. Then it was a slog through the rental car return to the marginal but overpriced airport hotel, take out food that ended up being enough to feed four people, and another 4 a.m. wake-up. Kind of a crappy ending to a great trip. But good music in my ears, plus a lot of coffee and (surprisingly good) airport food were very soothing, at least for me.
Something interesting we saw on I-5: huge signs from the libertarian right. "WAKE UP AMERICA OBAMA IS KILLING US". And another one we only partially saw as we drove by: "...DICTATOR OBAMA...". These were professionally made signs, not handwritten.
Also on I-5, you are told that JESUS DIED FOR SINNERS and other such statements. Create your own!
3.02.2016
random observations on southern oregon, great kitchens, family love, and absent eagles
This morning we woke up at 3:45 a.m., packed up the car with binoculars, cameras, sandwiches, and coffee, and drove two hours in the dark. According to our guidebook and a few websites, we were heading towards an opportunity to see dozens of bald eagles on their migratory path.
Short version: we drove a lot and saw very little.
The scenery was lovely, and we did see many birds in a wetlands area, including one young bald eagle for a moment or two. But the "50 to 100" bald eagles dining on a "smorgasbord of small animal life" - so said the guidebook - did not materialize. Ah well. Nature sightings are like that.
We had breakfast at a classic roadside joint, and on the way back.... In-N-Out!! My B+SIL didn't know what the fuss was about, and probably still don't, but Allan and I were in food bliss.
* * * *
B+SIL's new life is amazing. They've got 45 acres of land, on which they plan to grow grapes, raise bees, and possibly graze goats (with the help of local experts in each of those areas). The house itself is a knockout, with a huge open kitchen and stone hearth, four bedroom suites, each with a full bath, plus a full gym, and an enormous deck. They've worked hard all their lives, and I'm so happy they can enjoy this reward.
Our nephew and niece-in-law's house and the office where they practice is also amazing. Everyone seems to have great kitchens and fireplaces. When we visited the apartment where my mother will live, we were three-for-three on beautiful kitchens, and I had major kitchen envy. I like our new apartment a lot, but the kitchen is its least attractive feature.
Longtime wmtc readers may remember that the whole happy-family thing is a more recent development for me. I grew up in a family where love was mixed with heaping doses of fear and abuse. We all acquired a lot of scars, but almost everyone has been determined to heal and reconnect. Now there's a tremendous amount of love, respect, and friendship among us all. This week - and especially last weekend, when more family members were here - we've had so much fun talking, cooking, drinking, eating, and laughing together.
And there is nothing like a happy baby to turn a group of adults into a gaggle of idiots! We are all so in love with Sophia, and ooh and aah at her every move and facial expression. I've always loved being an aunt, and now seeing my nephew step into fatherhood, and B+SIL enjoy grandparenthood is very special.
* * * *
D&E (nephew and niece-in-law) live in Ashland, home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and a year-round crunchy, hippie vibe. Oregon wine is a burgeoning new part of the scene, too. It's similar to Ontario's wine region, in that most wineries are small, unpretentious, family-run concerns, except the scenery is way more beautiful. I like the Niagara Region, but it doesn't compare.
Another thing that's different here: legal marijuana. On our way down, we passed highway billboards advertising suppliers. In every strip mall, there are "wellness centers" and "green houses". More and more farms are converting to this new crop. Although I stopped smoking weed many years ago, I love that this state is willing to be a pioneer, and I love how it resonates through the local economy.
Oregon is a mixed bag of new-age hippies and anti-government rednecks, but that's not unusual in many US states. Everyone is super friendly, a bit too friendly for my tastes.
Some years back, Allan and I drove the whole Oregon coast, which I highly recommend, but we had not seen this area at all. On future trips, we'll go to Crater Lake National Park and to Portland.
* * * *
As I mentioned, we visited the retirement complex where mom will live, beginning this summer. Her apartment is huge - two bedrooms and two full baths, tons of closet space, all the comforts - with a view of rolling hills, grazing cows, and mountains. There's a gym, a pool, a dining room and bar, even a library run by retired librarians. She has a certain number of meals included in her rent, which is important, since she won't be driving, and could miss the sociability she enjoys now. But she has her own full kitchen, which is also very important.
If I live to be 84 years old, I hope I have the spirit and courage to move to the other side of the country if I want to!
* * * *
The only negative part of this trip is the upcoming US election. Although we are all on the same side politically, some of our family members have, like us, lost all belief in the system and regard it as a sham and a sad joke, and others still take it seriously. I practice being quiet and patient during daily updates on the various circus performers.
Short version: we drove a lot and saw very little.
The scenery was lovely, and we did see many birds in a wetlands area, including one young bald eagle for a moment or two. But the "50 to 100" bald eagles dining on a "smorgasbord of small animal life" - so said the guidebook - did not materialize. Ah well. Nature sightings are like that.
We had breakfast at a classic roadside joint, and on the way back.... In-N-Out!! My B+SIL didn't know what the fuss was about, and probably still don't, but Allan and I were in food bliss.
* * * *
B+SIL's new life is amazing. They've got 45 acres of land, on which they plan to grow grapes, raise bees, and possibly graze goats (with the help of local experts in each of those areas). The house itself is a knockout, with a huge open kitchen and stone hearth, four bedroom suites, each with a full bath, plus a full gym, and an enormous deck. They've worked hard all their lives, and I'm so happy they can enjoy this reward.
Our nephew and niece-in-law's house and the office where they practice is also amazing. Everyone seems to have great kitchens and fireplaces. When we visited the apartment where my mother will live, we were three-for-three on beautiful kitchens, and I had major kitchen envy. I like our new apartment a lot, but the kitchen is its least attractive feature.
Longtime wmtc readers may remember that the whole happy-family thing is a more recent development for me. I grew up in a family where love was mixed with heaping doses of fear and abuse. We all acquired a lot of scars, but almost everyone has been determined to heal and reconnect. Now there's a tremendous amount of love, respect, and friendship among us all. This week - and especially last weekend, when more family members were here - we've had so much fun talking, cooking, drinking, eating, and laughing together.
And there is nothing like a happy baby to turn a group of adults into a gaggle of idiots! We are all so in love with Sophia, and ooh and aah at her every move and facial expression. I've always loved being an aunt, and now seeing my nephew step into fatherhood, and B+SIL enjoy grandparenthood is very special.
* * * *
D&E (nephew and niece-in-law) live in Ashland, home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and a year-round crunchy, hippie vibe. Oregon wine is a burgeoning new part of the scene, too. It's similar to Ontario's wine region, in that most wineries are small, unpretentious, family-run concerns, except the scenery is way more beautiful. I like the Niagara Region, but it doesn't compare.
Another thing that's different here: legal marijuana. On our way down, we passed highway billboards advertising suppliers. In every strip mall, there are "wellness centers" and "green houses". More and more farms are converting to this new crop. Although I stopped smoking weed many years ago, I love that this state is willing to be a pioneer, and I love how it resonates through the local economy.
Oregon is a mixed bag of new-age hippies and anti-government rednecks, but that's not unusual in many US states. Everyone is super friendly, a bit too friendly for my tastes.
Some years back, Allan and I drove the whole Oregon coast, which I highly recommend, but we had not seen this area at all. On future trips, we'll go to Crater Lake National Park and to Portland.
* * * *
As I mentioned, we visited the retirement complex where mom will live, beginning this summer. Her apartment is huge - two bedrooms and two full baths, tons of closet space, all the comforts - with a view of rolling hills, grazing cows, and mountains. There's a gym, a pool, a dining room and bar, even a library run by retired librarians. She has a certain number of meals included in her rent, which is important, since she won't be driving, and could miss the sociability she enjoys now. But she has her own full kitchen, which is also very important.
If I live to be 84 years old, I hope I have the spirit and courage to move to the other side of the country if I want to!
* * * *
The only negative part of this trip is the upcoming US election. Although we are all on the same side politically, some of our family members have, like us, lost all belief in the system and regard it as a sham and a sad joke, and others still take it seriously. I practice being quiet and patient during daily updates on the various circus performers.
2.29.2016
the rest of the trip
This is the view from my brother and sister-in-law's new home in Oregon.
Last year B+SIL retired, pull up stakes, sold their home in New Jersey, and moved to the other side of the country. One of their adult children and partner - and now their first grandchild! - lives 15 minutes away in Ashland, Oregon. Their other two adult children and their partners live in the Bay Area, a five-hour drive or short flight away.
And then - this is the real knock-out - my 84-year-old mother is moving out there, too! With the help of B+SIL, she sold her apartment in New Jersey, gave her car away to one of her granddaughter-in-laws, and is preparing to move into a retirement community in Ashland. She'll be able to see her great-granddaughter grow up, and there'll be family on hand as she gets older and needs more care.
We're all incredibly impressed that she's up for this huge life change at 84 years old. She's lived in the NYC-metro area all her life,
For me, this means a much longer and more complicated trip to see her. On the other hand, there's a lot more family to visit when I do. We used to all gather once a year at B+SIL's home in New Jersey, but for the last few years, B+SIL have been going west, so we hadn't all seen each other in a very long time.
* * * *
We got in late on Friday night (or very early Saturday morning). Since then we've been talking and reconnecting with each other, drinking wine, taking walks on B+SIL's 45-acre property, and especially and constantly playing with, watching, talking to, admiring, and exclaiming over the darling Sophia, nine months old.
Yesterday, Sunday, the Bay Area contingent had to take off, people I hugely love and already miss. Today we're going to see Ashland, Sophia's parents' home, and their office where they practice acupuncture and holistic healthcare. And of course more Sophia time.
We had planned to take a break from the family activities to spend a couple of days in Portland. But after driving from Vancouver and having the return trip in front of us, we're not keen to drive another 10 hours (five hours each way) to see that city, even for Powell's.
If I were to blog the rest of the trip, it would be super boring. But way fun here!
2.27.2016
leaving vancouver: in which we discover the scary truth about canadian passports
This was an eventful day! We started at the Acme Cafe, for another BOGO breakfast. The food is great even without the discount. But a free goat cheese-portobello-sun dried tomato fritata, with potatoes and toast? Yes, please!
The Acme Cafe is a few buildings down from the old Woodward's Building, which figures prominently in the rise and fall of this historic neighbourhood. We took a few photos, then packed up, and took the Skytrain back to the airport, getting to the airport quickly and easily for $8, total for two. This makes Toronto's $30 UP Express ripoff seem even more egregious.
And then it happened. We tried to check in at the flight counter, only to learn that our passports had expired. Last summer! We were utterly shocked. And yes, we are idiots. Obviously I must have seen the expiry date on our passports, but it never clicked: they were good for only five years.
Unbelievable. And completely our own fault.
The counter agent was very nice but there was absolutely nothing she could do to help. You must have a valid passport to fly internationally. And we did not.
This trip has been planned for at least nine months. Family is expecting us - and some folks are driving up from the Bay Area to Oregon, and they only have this weekend. What are we going to do?! We took our luggage and sat down, stunned, trying to assess our options.
The counter agent suggested going back to downtown Vancouver to apply for new passports, but on a Friday afternoon, we'd be very lucky to have new passports early next week. Too late.
After a few minutes we realized there was only one possible solution. We had to rent a car and drive to Oregon, taking a chance that we'd be admitted to the US. A passport would still be necessary, but land crossings are at the discretion of the border guard. We are still US citizens, and supposedly cannot be denied entry. However, US citizens are supposed to carry US passports, and we don't.
But there was no choice. We had to take that chance.
The first car rental counter had no cars available, and told us another place was also sold out. A little scary, but Avis made it happen - a good price and unlimited mileage. In a few minutes we were heading south. And very worried! We'd have our expired passports, all the information from the flights we were supposed to take, plus all the ID to back up the passport. Would that be enough? We were sure we'd need the "secondary interview" - another interrogation inside the border-services building.
At the border crossing, we pulled up to the booth.
Border guard, taking our passports: Where are you going?
Us: Ashland, Oregon.
Guard: How long are you staying?
Us: Til Friday, March 4th.
Guard: Are you bringing anything in to the US?
Us: Just our personal things, and a few small gifts.
Guard, handing our passports back to us: Have a safe trip.
We managed to control ourselves until we were safely away from the booth, before letting out one huge WHOO-HOOO.
Then all we had was 10 hours of driving ahead of us. Which would have been fine, except for the three hours of bumper-to-bumper traffic in the Sea-Tac area, from north of Seattle to south of Tacoma. The rain didn't help either. But at 1:00 a.m. we were driving up the gravel road to my brother and sister-in-law's new home.
So we had to eat the price of the flight from Vancouver to Oregon, and pay a huge penalty and increased fare to fly home from Vancouver, as well as rent a vehicle for a week. An expensive holiday, indeed.
The morale of the story is check those expiration dates.
The Acme Cafe is a few buildings down from the old Woodward's Building, which figures prominently in the rise and fall of this historic neighbourhood. We took a few photos, then packed up, and took the Skytrain back to the airport, getting to the airport quickly and easily for $8, total for two. This makes Toronto's $30 UP Express ripoff seem even more egregious.
And then it happened. We tried to check in at the flight counter, only to learn that our passports had expired. Last summer! We were utterly shocked. And yes, we are idiots. Obviously I must have seen the expiry date on our passports, but it never clicked: they were good for only five years.
Unbelievable. And completely our own fault.
The counter agent was very nice but there was absolutely nothing she could do to help. You must have a valid passport to fly internationally. And we did not.
This trip has been planned for at least nine months. Family is expecting us - and some folks are driving up from the Bay Area to Oregon, and they only have this weekend. What are we going to do?! We took our luggage and sat down, stunned, trying to assess our options.
The counter agent suggested going back to downtown Vancouver to apply for new passports, but on a Friday afternoon, we'd be very lucky to have new passports early next week. Too late.
After a few minutes we realized there was only one possible solution. We had to rent a car and drive to Oregon, taking a chance that we'd be admitted to the US. A passport would still be necessary, but land crossings are at the discretion of the border guard. We are still US citizens, and supposedly cannot be denied entry. However, US citizens are supposed to carry US passports, and we don't.
But there was no choice. We had to take that chance.
The first car rental counter had no cars available, and told us another place was also sold out. A little scary, but Avis made it happen - a good price and unlimited mileage. In a few minutes we were heading south. And very worried! We'd have our expired passports, all the information from the flights we were supposed to take, plus all the ID to back up the passport. Would that be enough? We were sure we'd need the "secondary interview" - another interrogation inside the border-services building.
At the border crossing, we pulled up to the booth.
Border guard, taking our passports: Where are you going?
Us: Ashland, Oregon.
Guard: How long are you staying?
Us: Til Friday, March 4th.
Guard: Are you bringing anything in to the US?
Us: Just our personal things, and a few small gifts.
Guard, handing our passports back to us: Have a safe trip.
We managed to control ourselves until we were safely away from the booth, before letting out one huge WHOO-HOOO.
Then all we had was 10 hours of driving ahead of us. Which would have been fine, except for the three hours of bumper-to-bumper traffic in the Sea-Tac area, from north of Seattle to south of Tacoma. The rain didn't help either. But at 1:00 a.m. we were driving up the gravel road to my brother and sister-in-law's new home.
So we had to eat the price of the flight from Vancouver to Oregon, and pay a huge penalty and increased fare to fly home from Vancouver, as well as rent a vehicle for a week. An expensive holiday, indeed.
The morale of the story is check those expiration dates.
vancouver, day four
Our last day in Vancouver was a full one. It included a library, great art, a meet-up with an activist-friend... and noodles!
I didn't want another breakfast at the hotel, so we poked around a bit online and found something nearby. This place didn't open til 10:00 (I guess hipsters don't wake up early) but we noticed the Acme Cafe next door. It looks like a diner - an authentic diner, not a fake retro ironic diner - but with a contemporary menu. The food was very good - I had a truly excellent frittata with portobello mushrooms - but the best treat came with the bill. We unintentionally qualified for the early-bird special: between 8 and 9:00, buy one breakfast, get another free. A BOGO breakfast? What fun! And an amazing deal, as the food is outstanding and not cheap..
After breakfast we walked to the Vancouver Public Library, the Central branch known for its distinctive look. The library hadn't opened yet and there was the usual crowd waiting to get in. Anyone who imagines that libraries are no longer needed should stop by right before one opens.
I'm not sure why a library should look like the Roman Colosseum, considering the original function of that ancient building (far more brutal and bloody than is commonly known). But it's an impressive and distinctive structure, and Vancouverites voted for it in a design competition. I like the inner concourse, which gives the feel of a city block across from a library, but within the library complex itself. I hope in the warmer months there is public seating on the huge open plaza in front of the building. If there isn't, it's a ridiculously wasted space.
We wandered a bit inside the library, which is very nice. I saw something I would love to emulate in Mississauga... more on that if I'm able to help make it happen.
After the library, I went to the Bill Reid Gallery, while Allan went to check out a bookstore. Bill Reid, for any readers who don't know him, was a Canadian aboriginal artist, writer, teacher, and spokesperson. His most famous work is the Spirit of Haida Gwaii, this sculpture, which lives at the Canadian Embassy in Washington DC, and is pictured on the old (pre-Harper) Canadian $20 bill. The gallery is wonderful, a little gem of a museum. I enjoyed learning about Reid's life, although I could have used more context for some of the Haida modern cultural history. Of his own background, Reid (whose father was a white Canadian) said, "I am neither Haida nor non-Haida, neither white nor not-white. I am a person of the Haida Gwaii". I was also surprised to learn that before becoming a visual artist, Reid was a writer; I bought a beautiful book of his writing.
After meeting up again, with a few complications, we took a long train ride out to The Drive, a Vancouver neighbourhood with a counterculture flavour. We walked a lot, checked out a lot of used bookstores and a few oddball boutiques, and ate way too much excellent wood oven pizza. Eating too much was definitely a theme of this day. Unfortunately, The People's Co-op Bookstore, one of the places on The Drive we were most looking forward to, was closed because of fire damage.
From The Drive we took a B-line "99" bus to some other neighbourhood, transferred to another bus, all to pay a visit to this creatively-named store: The Regional Assembly of Text. Funny thing, Allan dragged us all over town to get there, and I was just humouring him. But as soon as we walked in, I was smitten and wanted to buy armloads of stuff. The store is full of beautiful hand-made cards with book, writing, and library themes. There are beautiful writing implements and blank books, stamps and buttons, pads and paper. The store displays a collection of old manual typewriters and file boxes, and a huge collection of zines that you can browse in a closet-sized reading room. It's an absolutely lovely store and worth a visit if you love print.
Then it was back on another bus to yet another used bookstore! When it comes to bookstores, the man is insatiable. I was way past my limit for both buses and bookstores, but my patience was less important than the payback I'd cash in later.
Our afternoon collapse was short, as I had my heart set on one more bowl of ramen before leaving Ramen City. We went back to Gyoza, the place from our first night, and I savoured yet another tomato-pork broth and noodley goodness.
After dinner, we met SB at a Gastown pub, the first time we met in person. S is a central person in the west coast branch of the War Resisters Support Campaign. She's also a CUPE activist and a librarian. We have a few things in common! None of other potential Vancouver meet-ups with internet friends worked out, but this one was really special.
* * * *
Waking up early as I do, I've been able to see Tala and Diego on the webcam every morning. I'm worry free, so happy to see them happy!
I didn't want another breakfast at the hotel, so we poked around a bit online and found something nearby. This place didn't open til 10:00 (I guess hipsters don't wake up early) but we noticed the Acme Cafe next door. It looks like a diner - an authentic diner, not a fake retro ironic diner - but with a contemporary menu. The food was very good - I had a truly excellent frittata with portobello mushrooms - but the best treat came with the bill. We unintentionally qualified for the early-bird special: between 8 and 9:00, buy one breakfast, get another free. A BOGO breakfast? What fun! And an amazing deal, as the food is outstanding and not cheap..
After breakfast we walked to the Vancouver Public Library, the Central branch known for its distinctive look. The library hadn't opened yet and there was the usual crowd waiting to get in. Anyone who imagines that libraries are no longer needed should stop by right before one opens.
I'm not sure why a library should look like the Roman Colosseum, considering the original function of that ancient building (far more brutal and bloody than is commonly known). But it's an impressive and distinctive structure, and Vancouverites voted for it in a design competition. I like the inner concourse, which gives the feel of a city block across from a library, but within the library complex itself. I hope in the warmer months there is public seating on the huge open plaza in front of the building. If there isn't, it's a ridiculously wasted space.
We wandered a bit inside the library, which is very nice. I saw something I would love to emulate in Mississauga... more on that if I'm able to help make it happen.
After the library, I went to the Bill Reid Gallery, while Allan went to check out a bookstore. Bill Reid, for any readers who don't know him, was a Canadian aboriginal artist, writer, teacher, and spokesperson. His most famous work is the Spirit of Haida Gwaii, this sculpture, which lives at the Canadian Embassy in Washington DC, and is pictured on the old (pre-Harper) Canadian $20 bill. The gallery is wonderful, a little gem of a museum. I enjoyed learning about Reid's life, although I could have used more context for some of the Haida modern cultural history. Of his own background, Reid (whose father was a white Canadian) said, "I am neither Haida nor non-Haida, neither white nor not-white. I am a person of the Haida Gwaii". I was also surprised to learn that before becoming a visual artist, Reid was a writer; I bought a beautiful book of his writing.
After meeting up again, with a few complications, we took a long train ride out to The Drive, a Vancouver neighbourhood with a counterculture flavour. We walked a lot, checked out a lot of used bookstores and a few oddball boutiques, and ate way too much excellent wood oven pizza. Eating too much was definitely a theme of this day. Unfortunately, The People's Co-op Bookstore, one of the places on The Drive we were most looking forward to, was closed because of fire damage.
From The Drive we took a B-line "99" bus to some other neighbourhood, transferred to another bus, all to pay a visit to this creatively-named store: The Regional Assembly of Text. Funny thing, Allan dragged us all over town to get there, and I was just humouring him. But as soon as we walked in, I was smitten and wanted to buy armloads of stuff. The store is full of beautiful hand-made cards with book, writing, and library themes. There are beautiful writing implements and blank books, stamps and buttons, pads and paper. The store displays a collection of old manual typewriters and file boxes, and a huge collection of zines that you can browse in a closet-sized reading room. It's an absolutely lovely store and worth a visit if you love print.
Then it was back on another bus to yet another used bookstore! When it comes to bookstores, the man is insatiable. I was way past my limit for both buses and bookstores, but my patience was less important than the payback I'd cash in later.
Our afternoon collapse was short, as I had my heart set on one more bowl of ramen before leaving Ramen City. We went back to Gyoza, the place from our first night, and I savoured yet another tomato-pork broth and noodley goodness.
After dinner, we met SB at a Gastown pub, the first time we met in person. S is a central person in the west coast branch of the War Resisters Support Campaign. She's also a CUPE activist and a librarian. We have a few things in common! None of other potential Vancouver meet-ups with internet friends worked out, but this one was really special.
* * * *
Waking up early as I do, I've been able to see Tala and Diego on the webcam every morning. I'm worry free, so happy to see them happy!
2.25.2016
vancouver, day three
Another beautiful day here, sunny with a few clouds and a high of 10 or 11 C. Vancouverites are all exclaiming about three consecutive days without rain.
We got an early start with the train to a bus to Stanley Park. On the way to the bus, I was intrigued by a food truck called Yolks. (Apparently it's also a restaurant. Their tagline: Eat Breakfast Now.) I got this incredible homemade granola with a banana and yogurt; it totally made my morning.
The bus took us right to Stanley Park. I had heard of the park, of course, as it's usually the first attraction anyone mentions about Vancouver, but I had no idea what made it so special. If you look at a map of Vancouver, the huge green peninsula jutting off the west end of the city is Stanley Park. It's huge.
The park is full of attractions - famous totem poles, an aquarium, all manner of trails - but the best feature surely must be the seawall walk and bike path. It rings the park, with the water on one side and green wooded area on the other. We decided to walk all 8.8 kms of it. (That's about 5.5 miles for my US friends.)
There's a path just for foot traffic and one beside it for bikes and inline skates. On this warm (and dry!) Wednesday afternoon, there were plenty of people walking, running, biking, and blading, and we could imagine it could get crowded in warmer months.
Most of the way, we were walking beside kelp-covered tidal pools at low tide. We passed a bridge and what appeared to be suburbs on the other side, several seaplanes, and some huge container ships. There are two small sandy beaches, but mostly rocky shoreline.
About halfway, we stopped for lunch, which was everything we picked up at the Granville Island Market the day before - smoked salmon, cheese, cured meats, and bread.
These market stands were really superb. The smoked salmon stand offered fish with several different methods of smoking, all of the salmon local and wild, richly red. We bought cold-smoked salmon, and some salmon jerky just for fun.
The sausage stand was one of the best stores in the market, displaying every kind of sausage imaginable, seemingly from every type of cooking in the world. We bought small amounts of chorizo, salami, pepperoni, and some lamb prosciutto. A little smoked gouda and some freshly baked bread, and that's a great lunch.
At about the eight-kilometre mark, when our feet were getting tired, the trail turned inland and ran alongside a pond. This was an opportunity to see many different kinds of birds, and the work of some industrious beavers.
Then suddenly we felt like we couldn't walk another step, and a bus stop appeared. It seemed like we were waiting in the middle of nowhere, and we were a bit skeptical... but a few minutes later, there was our bus, the same route we had taken to the park. Brilliant.
Although our feet were a bit sore, we weren't done for the day. Allan had more things planned! One of the best aspects of this trip, for me, is that Allan has done 99% of the planning. It's usually more 50-50, with me doing the long-range, big-picture plans, and Allan filling in the details. But right now, between the library and the union, I have no time or mental energy to plan one more thing. Allan has stepped up - big time - and taken care of everything. I'm like a passenger on a personalized tour, and I couldn't be happier.
So we took the bus back into town, hopped on the Skytrain for one stop (day passes again), and found the famed gelato store. This gelato won first prize in some huge world gelato competition, the only non-Italian ever to do so.
You can get three flavours for $8.00, so between the two of us we tried Thai coconut, banana bread, whiskey fudge, mint chocolate chip, fior de latte, and blood orange sorbeto. It is quite possibly the best gelato you'll ever eat.
Back at the room, we had our obligatory late-afternoon collapse, then went to dinner. It turns out that another entry on the must-try ramen list was right near our hotel. And I do mean right near, closer than our Skytrain stop.
This place was a more casual noodle joint, packed with young, hip, loud Asian-Canadian 20-somethings chowing down on noodles. The ramen was amazing in a rich chicken or pork broth. Their house specialty, tsukemen, is served with a pitcher of clear broth, so you can adjust the consistency and flavour to your own liking.
This noodle shop is an example of this neighbourhood "in transition" where we're staying. There are homeless people, panhandlers, and welfare hotels all around, but sprinkled throughout, there are expensive organic bath shops and hyper-trendy bars.
* * * *
Although Vancouver is smaller than Toronto by population, to me Vancouver feels like a bigger city - more bustle, more sparkle. I have to say, it also seems more stylish and hip than TO. Of course, I am neither hip nor stylish, but I know (and enjoy) style when I see it, and this city seems to have a lot of it.
* * * *
It's been difficult to see the dogs on the Dogtopia webcam. Between the time-zone difference the midday rest period, and Tala's extra rest, we haven't seen a lot of them. But when we do catch a glimpse, they seem very happy.
When Diego is in the gym but Tala is not, he just stands around looking at a spot off-camera. He seems to be waiting for her to come back. So sweet.
There are tons of dogs there! Mississauga has had some doggie daycare places before, but none as centrally located as Dogtopia. I'm so glad to see that enough dog-parents are willing to spend money so their pups can get exercise and be happy during the day.
We got an early start with the train to a bus to Stanley Park. On the way to the bus, I was intrigued by a food truck called Yolks. (Apparently it's also a restaurant. Their tagline: Eat Breakfast Now.) I got this incredible homemade granola with a banana and yogurt; it totally made my morning.
The bus took us right to Stanley Park. I had heard of the park, of course, as it's usually the first attraction anyone mentions about Vancouver, but I had no idea what made it so special. If you look at a map of Vancouver, the huge green peninsula jutting off the west end of the city is Stanley Park. It's huge.
The park is full of attractions - famous totem poles, an aquarium, all manner of trails - but the best feature surely must be the seawall walk and bike path. It rings the park, with the water on one side and green wooded area on the other. We decided to walk all 8.8 kms of it. (That's about 5.5 miles for my US friends.)
There's a path just for foot traffic and one beside it for bikes and inline skates. On this warm (and dry!) Wednesday afternoon, there were plenty of people walking, running, biking, and blading, and we could imagine it could get crowded in warmer months.
Most of the way, we were walking beside kelp-covered tidal pools at low tide. We passed a bridge and what appeared to be suburbs on the other side, several seaplanes, and some huge container ships. There are two small sandy beaches, but mostly rocky shoreline.
About halfway, we stopped for lunch, which was everything we picked up at the Granville Island Market the day before - smoked salmon, cheese, cured meats, and bread.
These market stands were really superb. The smoked salmon stand offered fish with several different methods of smoking, all of the salmon local and wild, richly red. We bought cold-smoked salmon, and some salmon jerky just for fun.
The sausage stand was one of the best stores in the market, displaying every kind of sausage imaginable, seemingly from every type of cooking in the world. We bought small amounts of chorizo, salami, pepperoni, and some lamb prosciutto. A little smoked gouda and some freshly baked bread, and that's a great lunch.
At about the eight-kilometre mark, when our feet were getting tired, the trail turned inland and ran alongside a pond. This was an opportunity to see many different kinds of birds, and the work of some industrious beavers.
Then suddenly we felt like we couldn't walk another step, and a bus stop appeared. It seemed like we were waiting in the middle of nowhere, and we were a bit skeptical... but a few minutes later, there was our bus, the same route we had taken to the park. Brilliant.
Although our feet were a bit sore, we weren't done for the day. Allan had more things planned! One of the best aspects of this trip, for me, is that Allan has done 99% of the planning. It's usually more 50-50, with me doing the long-range, big-picture plans, and Allan filling in the details. But right now, between the library and the union, I have no time or mental energy to plan one more thing. Allan has stepped up - big time - and taken care of everything. I'm like a passenger on a personalized tour, and I couldn't be happier.
So we took the bus back into town, hopped on the Skytrain for one stop (day passes again), and found the famed gelato store. This gelato won first prize in some huge world gelato competition, the only non-Italian ever to do so.
You can get three flavours for $8.00, so between the two of us we tried Thai coconut, banana bread, whiskey fudge, mint chocolate chip, fior de latte, and blood orange sorbeto. It is quite possibly the best gelato you'll ever eat.
Back at the room, we had our obligatory late-afternoon collapse, then went to dinner. It turns out that another entry on the must-try ramen list was right near our hotel. And I do mean right near, closer than our Skytrain stop.
This place was a more casual noodle joint, packed with young, hip, loud Asian-Canadian 20-somethings chowing down on noodles. The ramen was amazing in a rich chicken or pork broth. Their house specialty, tsukemen, is served with a pitcher of clear broth, so you can adjust the consistency and flavour to your own liking.
This noodle shop is an example of this neighbourhood "in transition" where we're staying. There are homeless people, panhandlers, and welfare hotels all around, but sprinkled throughout, there are expensive organic bath shops and hyper-trendy bars.
* * * *
Although Vancouver is smaller than Toronto by population, to me Vancouver feels like a bigger city - more bustle, more sparkle. I have to say, it also seems more stylish and hip than TO. Of course, I am neither hip nor stylish, but I know (and enjoy) style when I see it, and this city seems to have a lot of it.
* * * *
It's been difficult to see the dogs on the Dogtopia webcam. Between the time-zone difference the midday rest period, and Tala's extra rest, we haven't seen a lot of them. But when we do catch a glimpse, they seem very happy.
When Diego is in the gym but Tala is not, he just stands around looking at a spot off-camera. He seems to be waiting for her to come back. So sweet.
There are tons of dogs there! Mississauga has had some doggie daycare places before, but none as centrally located as Dogtopia. I'm so glad to see that enough dog-parents are willing to spend money so their pups can get exercise and be happy during the day.
2.24.2016
vancouver, day two
On Tuesday morning after breakfast we were finally able to see the pups on the webcam, so the day started out right.
After a quick breakfast in the hotel, we bought day passes for transit - Vancouver's new Compass Card - and set out for the Granville Island Market. The weather was beautiful - 9C and sunny - but would supposedly be even nicer the following day, so we were planning accordingly.
We took the Skytrain (the same train we took from the airport) to a bus through the downtown to Granville Island and the market. It's a small but beautiful market, and the food is really top-notch. Besides eating and wandering, we bought food for our visit to Stanley Park. We think for once we refrained from buying three times as much as we need.
The Granville Island Market also boasts a huge collection of shops of local and independent artists and artisans. Paper crafts, potters, textile arts, glass art, jewelry, you name it. We're not big shoppers, but living in the middle of homogenized sprawl as we do, this is a treat. We were able to pick up some gifts we needed, too.
Across False Creek from the market are the condo high-rises you always see in pictures of Vancouver, and in the distance you see snow-capped mountains. You actually see those in the near distance from various vantage points downtown, too, much like Seattle.
We bussed back to the hotel and collapsed for a while, our brains still on Eastern time. The transit here seems great. The buses are electric, so they're quieter and the air is cleaner. In general, this city is so clean, like all Canadian cities, at least compared to the US.
Later, we were back on the train to dinner. A friend sent me this review of Vancouver's Top 10 ramen spots. As soon as I saw it, I was like "Noodles!! Noodles every day!" Last night we went to the first one on the list, Gyoza. We had some messy, delicious pulled-pork bao, then a ramen in a rich, delicious, tomato-based broth, almost like a bouillabaisse. I could eat that every day and never get tired of it.
The restaurant was a short stroll - in beautiful Spring-like weather - to the Vancouver Art Gallery, the main art museum here. We weren't interested enough to spend $20 each admission, but Tuesday night is pay by donation night, so we thought we'd spend an hour there.
As it turns out, there's a special exhibit on taking up the entire museum. And of course there are big crowds (which is nice to see). But focusing on art and navigating through crowds while our brains are on another time zone was not too appealing.
We strolled back to the train, seeing more of the downtown, including some of the famous food trucks. And then, using the hell out of our transit passes, it was back to the hotel.
After a quick breakfast in the hotel, we bought day passes for transit - Vancouver's new Compass Card - and set out for the Granville Island Market. The weather was beautiful - 9C and sunny - but would supposedly be even nicer the following day, so we were planning accordingly.
We took the Skytrain (the same train we took from the airport) to a bus through the downtown to Granville Island and the market. It's a small but beautiful market, and the food is really top-notch. Besides eating and wandering, we bought food for our visit to Stanley Park. We think for once we refrained from buying three times as much as we need.
The Granville Island Market also boasts a huge collection of shops of local and independent artists and artisans. Paper crafts, potters, textile arts, glass art, jewelry, you name it. We're not big shoppers, but living in the middle of homogenized sprawl as we do, this is a treat. We were able to pick up some gifts we needed, too.
Across False Creek from the market are the condo high-rises you always see in pictures of Vancouver, and in the distance you see snow-capped mountains. You actually see those in the near distance from various vantage points downtown, too, much like Seattle.
We bussed back to the hotel and collapsed for a while, our brains still on Eastern time. The transit here seems great. The buses are electric, so they're quieter and the air is cleaner. In general, this city is so clean, like all Canadian cities, at least compared to the US.
Later, we were back on the train to dinner. A friend sent me this review of Vancouver's Top 10 ramen spots. As soon as I saw it, I was like "Noodles!! Noodles every day!" Last night we went to the first one on the list, Gyoza. We had some messy, delicious pulled-pork bao, then a ramen in a rich, delicious, tomato-based broth, almost like a bouillabaisse. I could eat that every day and never get tired of it.
The restaurant was a short stroll - in beautiful Spring-like weather - to the Vancouver Art Gallery, the main art museum here. We weren't interested enough to spend $20 each admission, but Tuesday night is pay by donation night, so we thought we'd spend an hour there.
As it turns out, there's a special exhibit on taking up the entire museum. And of course there are big crowds (which is nice to see). But focusing on art and navigating through crowds while our brains are on another time zone was not too appealing.
We strolled back to the train, seeing more of the downtown, including some of the famous food trucks. And then, using the hell out of our transit passes, it was back to the hotel.
vancouver, day one
We forgot to pack Allan's netbook and my little Bluetooth keyboard for my tablet isn't working, so this is going to be interesting. And annoying! But I can't travel without writing, so here goes.
We landed in Vancouver mid-day on Monday. A super friendly information person gave us directions to our hotel, and Vancouver wins the prize for best airport-to-city transportation, probably of any city we've been to. Inexpensive, fast, clean, accessible. I don't know why so many cities can't manage it, but well done, Vancouver!
We're staying at Skwachays Lodge, a social enterprise of an aboriginal community. It's gotten a lot of media attention in Canada. It's on the cusp of Chinatown, and also part of the revitalization of Vancouver's notorious Downtown Eastside. This means that the immediate surroundings are a bit sketchy, so if you were very concerned about that, this wouldn't be a good pick. But the room is stylish, spotless, comfortable, and full of all the good hotel amenities. As a bonus, it's a third of the price of any other decent hotel in Vancouver.
Our first order of business was to see Tala and Diego on webcam, but between internet problems and the time difference, it didn't work. We walked into Chinatown, found a tea shop, and had some dumplings and tea. From there we strolled to Gastown, an expensive, heavily gentrified area full of upscale restaurants and bars, upscale shops, and beautiful people. Also full of panhandlers from the nearby Eastside. It's like no one can figure out anything else to do with cities. It's either hungry, homeless, marginalized people living in squalor or conspicuous affluence.
We've seen the equivalent of Gastown in every city we've been to, and it doesn't do anything for us. One nicer element here is the shops and galleries of aboriginal artisanship. I love the silver jewelry and the paintings of the Coastal peoples. All of it is well out of my price range, so it"s strictly for looking.
Another interesting note were the neighbourhood banners announcing we were in "Seattle's Original Neighborhood". We could only guess that a sitcom or movie set in Seattle is being filmed here, because as we know, "Vancouver never plays itself."
We had some disappointing food, then went back to the hotel and collapsed. Allan was especially wrecked, having worked til 1:00 a.m. the night before.
(And I got the keyboard to work. Whew.)
2.22.2016
off to vancouver
I struggle to find time to write even a small fraction of what I'd like to post here. But there's one thing I'll always write about: my travels. And there are never enough of them.
This morning we are flying to Vancouver, our first time there. A few days later, Oregon and a mini family reunion. Two very needed weeks off.
But first: Dogtopia.
This morning we are flying to Vancouver, our first time there. A few days later, Oregon and a mini family reunion. Two very needed weeks off.
But first: Dogtopia.
2.21.2016
u.s. election circus puts wmtc in the news again
About a month ago, I received an email from a film producer: Netflix is making a documentary about Americans who moved to Canada for political reasons, and asked if Allan and I would be interviewed. We spent a long time chatting with her, before being told that the film is being shot in Vancouver and we're not in it. Oh well.
A few days later, a writer called about a story for The Guardian, asking much the same questions. That interview resulted in this article: 'An alternative exists': the US citizens who vowed to flee to Canada – and did. This writer didn't use much of my interview, but I did get the last word!
Then someone at The Toronto Star noticed the Guardian story and did a long interview with me. That story came out yesterday: Disenchanted U.S. voters look with longing eyes to Canada, but few follow through.
The editors scrapped most of what I said about the differences between Canada and the U.S. I even gave them the bullet-point version: universal health care, didn't invade Iraq, no death penalty, no abortion law, one of the first countries to legalize same-sex marriage, a party to the left of liberal. A functioning democracy. A more secular society. On the other hand, no one mentioned Stephen Harper, so that was nice.
Funny thing about that Guardian story. The man in the photo is someone I used to work and hang with in the War Resisters Support Campaign. And we met through - wait for it - a radio interview about Americans who had moved to Canada for political reasons.
The Star article includes a link to this blog, so I figured I should write something.
A few days later, a writer called about a story for The Guardian, asking much the same questions. That interview resulted in this article: 'An alternative exists': the US citizens who vowed to flee to Canada – and did. This writer didn't use much of my interview, but I did get the last word!
Then someone at The Toronto Star noticed the Guardian story and did a long interview with me. That story came out yesterday: Disenchanted U.S. voters look with longing eyes to Canada, but few follow through.
The editors scrapped most of what I said about the differences between Canada and the U.S. I even gave them the bullet-point version: universal health care, didn't invade Iraq, no death penalty, no abortion law, one of the first countries to legalize same-sex marriage, a party to the left of liberal. A functioning democracy. A more secular society. On the other hand, no one mentioned Stephen Harper, so that was nice.
Funny thing about that Guardian story. The man in the photo is someone I used to work and hang with in the War Resisters Support Campaign. And we met through - wait for it - a radio interview about Americans who had moved to Canada for political reasons.
The Star article includes a link to this blog, so I figured I should write something.
2.07.2016
dispatches from ola 2016, part 2: libraries and prisons
I've had a longstanding interest in prison libraries, and was happy to meet another librarian-friend who shares this. But I was very pleasantly surprised at the large turnout for the talk Prisons and Libraries: A Relationship Worth Incubating at the 2016 OLA Super Conference. A panel of three librarians who serve incarcerated people in different capacities gave the presentation.
Why prison libraries? From a rehabilitation perspective, there is a high correlation between illiteracy and crime, and illiteracy and recidivism. Certainly education can only help inmates successfully re-enter society.
From a social justice perspective, most people in prison are there because their life circumstances led inexorably to criminality. Access to information can help change the odds.
And from a human rights perspective, access to information is a basic human right - but prisons are environments of severe information poverty. Contrary to popular belief, inmates have no access to television or internet.
For decades, prison libraries had been a regular feature of all correctional facilities in North America. They were run by professional librarians, usually with inmate volunteers. It will not surprise you to learn that conservative and neoliberal governments have eliminated the meager funds once used for prison libraries. New prisons - often run for profit by private corporations - are now built without space for a library.
Fortunately, there are librarians who are so committed to providing information services to inmates that they are doing so anyway, without government support or funding, as volunteers. As president of my library workers' union, I spend a good deal of time and energy pushing back against the incursion of volunteers in our library. But for some communities, it's volunteers or nothing.
Library services to prisons include resource fairs, book clubs (and kits to get book clubs started), deliveries of weeded copies of bestsellers, and collecting and distributing donated magazines. One of the speakers noted that readers' advisory is one of the few services that treats inmates as individuals, rather than as "a population".
During this talk, I quickly recognized the strong connection between this presentation and the one I had attended previously, on services to indigenous people. Prison librarianship is all about relationship-building - about listening to what people want and need, then trying to provide it. And as indigenous people comprise Canada's underclass, there is a strong connection between colonialism, aboriginal issues, and the criminal justice system. A disproportionate percentage of inmates in Canadian prisons are aboriginal.
The Manitoba Library Association's Prison Libraries Committee has published a toolkit called Library Outreach on the Inside, based on their local experiences, something I look forward to reading. I don't know when or how I could get involved in this, but it's an interest I want to keep alive in my mind.
I haven't yet read Running the Books: The Adventures of an Accidental Prison Librarian by Avi Steinberg, but I plan to. The blog Librarian Behind Bars may have ended, but as a lot of great information archived.
There are also several organizations like this one that distribute donated books to incarcerated people. On the blog Picturesque, a librarian offers a good overview of the job and its context.
Why prison libraries? From a rehabilitation perspective, there is a high correlation between illiteracy and crime, and illiteracy and recidivism. Certainly education can only help inmates successfully re-enter society.
From a social justice perspective, most people in prison are there because their life circumstances led inexorably to criminality. Access to information can help change the odds.
And from a human rights perspective, access to information is a basic human right - but prisons are environments of severe information poverty. Contrary to popular belief, inmates have no access to television or internet.
For decades, prison libraries had been a regular feature of all correctional facilities in North America. They were run by professional librarians, usually with inmate volunteers. It will not surprise you to learn that conservative and neoliberal governments have eliminated the meager funds once used for prison libraries. New prisons - often run for profit by private corporations - are now built without space for a library.
Fortunately, there are librarians who are so committed to providing information services to inmates that they are doing so anyway, without government support or funding, as volunteers. As president of my library workers' union, I spend a good deal of time and energy pushing back against the incursion of volunteers in our library. But for some communities, it's volunteers or nothing.
Library services to prisons include resource fairs, book clubs (and kits to get book clubs started), deliveries of weeded copies of bestsellers, and collecting and distributing donated magazines. One of the speakers noted that readers' advisory is one of the few services that treats inmates as individuals, rather than as "a population".
During this talk, I quickly recognized the strong connection between this presentation and the one I had attended previously, on services to indigenous people. Prison librarianship is all about relationship-building - about listening to what people want and need, then trying to provide it. And as indigenous people comprise Canada's underclass, there is a strong connection between colonialism, aboriginal issues, and the criminal justice system. A disproportionate percentage of inmates in Canadian prisons are aboriginal.
The Manitoba Library Association's Prison Libraries Committee has published a toolkit called Library Outreach on the Inside, based on their local experiences, something I look forward to reading. I don't know when or how I could get involved in this, but it's an interest I want to keep alive in my mind.
I haven't yet read Running the Books: The Adventures of an Accidental Prison Librarian by Avi Steinberg, but I plan to. The blog Librarian Behind Bars may have ended, but as a lot of great information archived.
There are also several organizations like this one that distribute donated books to incarcerated people. On the blog Picturesque, a librarian offers a good overview of the job and its context.
2.03.2016
the great weed of 2016: the results are in
 |
| Goodbye. |
A while back, I announced that Allan and I were going to try weeding our books and CD collection. A few months passed until we could find the time, but we've done it. Seven boxes of books and three boxes of CDs will be leaving our lives.
Last September, I said this:
When I was in my 20s, I wanted to own every book I'd ever read. I was one of those people who believed that my personal library was a statement about myself. I needed to proudly display my politics and my tastes through my bookshelves and records. I loved seeing other people's libraries, and loved when people perused mine. I can recall that when we found ourselves in the home of a new friend, we would soon be looking through their books and music.So there we have it. I don't fully understand why I can now let go of things that I've packed up and moved from apartment to apartment to house to house more times that I want to count. But suddenly, it's fine.
For many years, we loved amassing as large a music collection as we possibly could. . . .
The whole concept of a library being a personal statement has been erased by the digital age. Most people under a certain age have never owned a physical medium of music. The sharing ethos of the internet has led to things like BookCrossing, BookMooch, Read It Foward, and Little Free Libraries. . . .
I don't know if this is a function of working in a library and having ready access to so many books, or just a general change in my desires.
We don't know what we're doing with all of it. Some we can donate to the annual giant book sale that benefits the Mississauga Symphony Orchestra. Allan thinks we might get some money for the CDs at BMV Books. I'm highly skeptical, but I'm willing to try.
1.31.2016
dispatches from ola 2016, part 1: choosing to walk a path
I attended OLA* for only one day this year, partly because I'm already missing so much work for bargaining and other union business, and partly because one day is often enough. There's a huge lineup of presentations, poster sessions, book signings, vendors, keynote speakers, tours, receptions, etc. - lots of etc. - but the presentations are the meat of the conference. Four presentations a day for three days is just too much.
As it happened, three of the four talks I attended shared a theme: bringing library services to underserved, marginalized, and socially excluded communities.
My first of the day was Choosing to Walk a Path: Library Services with Indigenous Peoples on Purpose. Monique Woroniak, from Winnipeg, a city with a significant indigenous population, first set the social and political context. It was a bit like being at our annual socialist conference: the presenter using the expression the Canadian state, as opposed to Canada, and speaking about settler colonialism as an ongoing structure, rather than an event in the past.
Woroniak showed an old family photograph from a few generations back, when her own forebears - as for many Canadian-born Canadians - were "settling" the prairies. She set the current context as the marked increase in "public expressions of indigenous sovereignty," beginning with Idle No More, but echoing through Canada with a heightened presence of indigenous literature, and in Winnipeg, with social spaces, a magazine, and other events.
I liked her explanation of the difference between diversity and anti-racism initiatives. Diversity programming celebrates multiculturalism - a commendable goal, and better than its opposite - but it leaves power structures unchanged. Anti-racism programming and services seek to create conditions to transform that power imbalance.
That can only happen with (what is now called) a "community development" model. Rather than think of ourselves and our institutions as experts - the holders of special knowledge or at least the keys to that knowledge - telling the community what we have to offer, we work to build relationships, so the community can tell us what they need.
What this looks like in practical terms, as far as I can tell, is not substantially different than a purposeful and meaningful attempt to be more inclusive, combat racism, and educate the public at large about a marginalized community. The difference, it seems, is how one arrives at that goal. And in a field where we are measured by statistics - how many materials circulated, how many people attended a program - this shifts the focus from end result to process.
The most important thing - something we talk about all the time in relation to youth, older adults, or any other population we serve - is not to tell people what we're doing for them, but ask them what they want us to do for and with them. Sounds simple, right? The reality is remarkably elusive. In the context of austerity budgets and skeletal staff, taking time to build relationships and focus on process might as well be a unicorn ride on a rainbow.
One minor note I found interesting was Woroniak`s take on the use of the word "ally". She said (I paraphrase), "You don't call yourself an ally. If a person from the community you are serving calls you an ally, then accept that as a great compliment, but you don't decide that." I'm not sure what to make of that, given that Idle No More shares "I am an ally" badges online.
Next up: Prisons and Libraries: A Relationship Worth Incubating.
* Officially the Ontario Library Association Super Conference, but always referred to as O-L-A, as if we are attending the organization.
As it happened, three of the four talks I attended shared a theme: bringing library services to underserved, marginalized, and socially excluded communities.
My first of the day was Choosing to Walk a Path: Library Services with Indigenous Peoples on Purpose. Monique Woroniak, from Winnipeg, a city with a significant indigenous population, first set the social and political context. It was a bit like being at our annual socialist conference: the presenter using the expression the Canadian state, as opposed to Canada, and speaking about settler colonialism as an ongoing structure, rather than an event in the past.
Woroniak showed an old family photograph from a few generations back, when her own forebears - as for many Canadian-born Canadians - were "settling" the prairies. She set the current context as the marked increase in "public expressions of indigenous sovereignty," beginning with Idle No More, but echoing through Canada with a heightened presence of indigenous literature, and in Winnipeg, with social spaces, a magazine, and other events.
I liked her explanation of the difference between diversity and anti-racism initiatives. Diversity programming celebrates multiculturalism - a commendable goal, and better than its opposite - but it leaves power structures unchanged. Anti-racism programming and services seek to create conditions to transform that power imbalance.
That can only happen with (what is now called) a "community development" model. Rather than think of ourselves and our institutions as experts - the holders of special knowledge or at least the keys to that knowledge - telling the community what we have to offer, we work to build relationships, so the community can tell us what they need.
What this looks like in practical terms, as far as I can tell, is not substantially different than a purposeful and meaningful attempt to be more inclusive, combat racism, and educate the public at large about a marginalized community. The difference, it seems, is how one arrives at that goal. And in a field where we are measured by statistics - how many materials circulated, how many people attended a program - this shifts the focus from end result to process.
The most important thing - something we talk about all the time in relation to youth, older adults, or any other population we serve - is not to tell people what we're doing for them, but ask them what they want us to do for and with them. Sounds simple, right? The reality is remarkably elusive. In the context of austerity budgets and skeletal staff, taking time to build relationships and focus on process might as well be a unicorn ride on a rainbow.
One minor note I found interesting was Woroniak`s take on the use of the word "ally". She said (I paraphrase), "You don't call yourself an ally. If a person from the community you are serving calls you an ally, then accept that as a great compliment, but you don't decide that." I'm not sure what to make of that, given that Idle No More shares "I am an ally" badges online.
Next up: Prisons and Libraries: A Relationship Worth Incubating.
* Officially the Ontario Library Association Super Conference, but always referred to as O-L-A, as if we are attending the organization.
what i'm reading: the invention of air by steven johnson
Answering that question, The Invention of Air: A Story of Science, Faith, Revolution, and the Birth of America by science historian Steven Johnson, is at its most interesting. The body of experiments that led to the "discovery" of oxygen, carbon dioxide, the properties of gases, and other foundational principles of chemistry were completely unknown to me. (Indeed, I doubt I had ever considered the question.)
This book introduced me to one Joseph Priestley, considered the father of modern chemistry, and a towering thinker of his era, yet largely unknown to the public today.
As Priestley was a contemporary of several of the American "founding fathers", the author illustrates Priestley's importance with these statistics.
In their legendary thirteen-year final correspondence, reflecting back on their collaborations and their feuds, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams wrote 165 letters to each other. In that corpus, Benjamin Franklin is mentioned by name five times, while George Washington is mentioned three times. Their mutual nemesis Alexander Hamilton warrants only two references. By contrast, Priestley, an Englishman who spent only the last decade of his life in the United States, is mentioned fifty-two times.One reason (of many) that Johnson greatly admires Priestley was that he valued open inquiry and the sharing of knowledge more than personal credit or financial gain. Priestley was a dedicated open-source man. He would share his ideas, writing, and data with anyone who was interested. This probably resulted in less fame, and definitely resulted in less income, but those were not Priestley's goals.
The Invention of Air is much more than a biography of Priestley or an account of his experiments. Priestley's work helped define and solidify scientific method, and his political and religious ideas influenced the birth of the American republic. I found these areas more challenging and less interesting. Johnson assumes a degree of knowledge of the history of science that I lack. And the book gets bogged down in biographical detail that seems trivial or irrelevant.
I loved Johnson's The Ghost Map - I'm at least partly responsible for it being promoted widely in our library system - and I've enjoyed (on Netflix) several episodes of Johnson's PBS series, "How We Got to Now". So it was a little disappointing not to love this book, too. But The Invention of Air is often fascinating, and it's well worth the read.
As I did when I reviewed Soul Made Flesh, I caution readers about grisly details of experiments on animals.
1.17.2016
in which the death of a rock legend makes me think about how our world has changed
 |
| When this came out, I hung the cover on my bedroom wall. |
My world then
I saw Bowie in concert in 1976, after the "Station to Station" album came out. I was a few months shy of my 15th birthday.
I had a picture of him on my wall, a magazine cover with a green background. I had assumed it was the cover of Time, but a Google image search quickly revealed it was People. No one in my family read People, which means I bought the magazine for the Bowie story and photos.
Although I can't remember anything specific, I know I would have cut out, read, and saved anything about the new album and the tour from Rolling Stone (still an actual rock music magazine), The New York Times, and Time, because I subscribed to RS and my parents subscribed to the others.
In those days, we searched for images and stories about our musical loves, and when we found them, we pounced on and devoured them. They were very finite, and we hoarded everything we could find.
There were a few opportunities to see bands play on TV, and if you were into music, you never missed them. You stayed up for "Don Kirshner," as we called it, or woke up with Soul Train, if that was your music. (I did both.) When "Saturday Night Live" came on the scene, the best thing about it was another opportunity to see bands play.
Sometimes a concert would be broadcast on TV to promote a tour. I have a vivid memory of watching Bob Dylan's Rolling Thunder Review on a small black-and-white set in my parents' bedroom, in self-imposed exile from the colour set that my parents were watching in the den, so I could drink in every detail of the show without annoying comments.
Even more exciting was footage of old concerts and TV appearances. We didn't call them videos: they were footage. I had an adult friend who had a stockpile of rock on film. My friends and I would plead with him to show us The Who smashing their instruments, or something rare like a clip from the Rolling Stones' "Cocksucker Blues".
Concerts were often broadcast on the radio. We would all tune in to the King Biscuit Flower Hour to hear past concerts, or even better, a live concert simulcast on the radio. Allan tells me that the Bowie show previous to the one I attended was broadcast live. Although I don't remember it, I'm certain I was listening.
It's difficult to explain what it felt like, compared to our present time, when a concert is uploaded for file-sharing an hour after it ends, and cell-phone videos are instantly posted to YouTube, and if you want to see what someone looks like, you simply type their name and hit enter. There was always a kind of hunger for more, and also a kind of mystery.
Another thing we have now: the almost instant ability to connect with other fans. In those days, fans of any given band were almost like a secret society. Members recognized each other by lyrics written on notebooks and t-shirts worn the day after the concert, something like a secret handshake.
This is not nostalgia! I don't think for one moment that life was better because I couldn't Google images of David Bowie. It was just very different.
The concert
It was 1976. A friend's parents bought her three tickets to the David Bowie concert for her 16th birthday, and I was a lucky tag-along.*
It was the second rock show I had ever attended, and the first that my parents knew about. I had to ask their permission to go, and - even though the friend's parents would be driving us there and picking us up - they weren't keen. My older sister intervened on my behalf, and got them to say yes.
In the lead-up to the show, we read, watched, and listened to everything about Bowie and the tour that we could get our hands on. We skipped school to see "The Man Who Fell to Earth" the day it opened, and saw it three times that week. We talked about the movie constantly. (I don't remember if the film was before or after the concert.)
The scene outside Madison Square Garden was our warm-up act. There were men in drag, people of every gender in Bowie-inspired makeup, and many people dressed in imitation of Bowie's current persona. In those days, a rock show was like an open-air market for illegal drugs. We had smuggled joints on our person, wondering if we'd be able to smoke at the show.
I believe there was no actual warm-up act, although I can't swear to it. Bowie designed and controlled his shows very tightly, so I doubt he would have a warm-up band sullying the spectacle. But opening acts - billed as "special guests" - were typical in those days, so perhaps there was.
The lights went out, and all of Madison Square Garden became a cloud of pot smoke. My friends and I looked at each other in joy and wonder.
A screen was lowered in front of the stage, and suddenly we were seeing silent, surreal, black-and-white images. It was - I later learned - "Un Chien Andalou", the famous short film by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali. Chances are good that few people in the audience had seen the film before. Another vivid memory: the very audible gasp of a crowd of 20,000 when an eyeball appears to be sliced with a razor blade.
The film ended, the screen rose, a white spotlight appeared, and there he was: the Thin White Duke. He was beautiful. He was intense. He owned your attention. I was a mile away, and it felt as if he was singing to me. Yes, I was 14 years old, and not exactly a critical audience. But the audience was rapt. He was absolutely captivating.
Incidentally, I never asked permission to attend a concert again. I just went. At some point I must have needed permission to go only with friends, without an adult, but I don't remember this being controversial. I was the youngest in my family, and the only child still living home. My father's health (mental and physical) was poor, my parents' marriage was disintegrating, and they were too tired or distracted to police me. This was sad, but it had its advantages.
* I would go on to have a strange love-hate relationship with this person, who was also my partner in all of my illegal activity. But we were both still innocent of that tangled mess.
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