Solsbury Hill

I am listening to what might be my favourite song ever, by Peter Gabriel (favourite song changes a lot, depending on what I just listened to, but this is an enduring favourite). He says,

"When illusions spin their net
I'm never where I want to be.
And Liberty, she pirouettes
when I think that I am free ...

"Today, I don't need a replacement,
I'll show them what the smile on my face meant.
My heart going boom, boom, boom!
'Hey!' I said, 'You can keep my things,
they've come to take me Home!'"

I just love that song. He talks about feeling part of the scenery and walking out of the machinery, cuz the Eagle comes for him and says, "I've come to take you Home." And that's how I felt before -- part of the scenery. I blended in and hid, the best way I knew how, and that way was pretty good. I'd had decades of practice. Being fat makes you invisible. And I've felt caught in machinery -- I thought it was a bad marriage and family of origin and bad jobs ... But it wasn't. The machinery was the trap inside me. The Eagle came for me, God, in whatever way I fail to understand God today, came for me and is letting me walk out of that trap. He's taking me Home.

If you don't understand any of that, don't worry about it much -- I don't either. I'm just grateful for it.

Friday Night Home Alone ... could be worse edition

Got New Jeans While I Was On Holiday

And that seems to me to be a good enough reason to change my picture (just to show you all), and to post something else silly. First of all, I LUVS me my new jeans! They fit the way jeans are supposed to fit (painted on, but not enough to be obnoxious, my landlady said), and my sister-n-law said, “You are SUCH a toothpick!” when I came out of the changing room in the store. Ultra-low rise, because I am not put together the way manufacturers think women oughtta be (I have a narrow, kinda racing-greyhound rear elevation) – two buttons and about a two-inch long zipper in the fly. Sparks should fly.

In 1979, I loved The Monks. “I Ain’t Getting Any” and “Drugs in my Picket”. And this one, which seems most appropriate today. Have fun! I am …

Late Canadian Cultural Icon -- Stan Rogers

Stan Rogers lived in town with us; his kids went to Montessori with my best friend, Lisa's. He was killed in a plane fire in Cincinnati or someplace. I believe the fire started with some bastard smoking in the can, and he was off the plane and went back in to help the others get off, and died of smoke inhalation.

This is wonderful. I've known it for years -- we had the "Between the Breaks" album as vinyl for a turntable. Tom used to go around singing the chorus to Barrett's Privateers when he was about three: "God damn them all! I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold. We'd fire no guns; shed no tears. Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of Barrett's Privateers." A little embarrassing sometimes. I’m posting two videos – Barrett’s Privateers, just mentioned. The second is The Mary Ellen Carter, and the beginning of the video is important -- it's not the singer, it's what the song can do to someone. Here's the words:

THE MARY ELLEN CARTER
(Stan Rogers)

She went down last October in a pouring driving rain.
The skipper, he'd been drinking and the Mate, he felt no pain.
Too close to Three Mile Rock, and she was dealt her mortal blow,
And the Mary Ellen Carter settled low.
There were five of us aboard her when she finally was awash.
We'd worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost.
And the groan she gave as she went down, it caused us to proclaim
That the Mary Ellen Carter'd rise again.

Well, the owners wrote her off; not a nickel would they spend.
She gave twenty years of service, boys, then met her sorry end.
But insurance paid the loss to us, so let her rest below.
Then they laughed at us and said we had to go.
But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock,
For she's worth a quarter million, afloat and at the dock.
And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain
And make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.

Rise again, rise again, that her name not be lost
To the knowledge of men.
Those who loved her best and were with her till the end
Will make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.

All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend.
Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends.
Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow
Or I'd never have the strength to go below.
But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents,
dogged hatch and porthole down.
Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and girded her around.
Tomorrow, noon, we'll hit the air and then take up the strain.
And watch the Mary Ellen Carter Rise Again.

For we couldn't leave her there, you see, to crumble into scale.
She'd saved our lives so many times, living through the gale
And the laughing, drunken rats who left her to a sorry grave
They won't be laughing in another day. . .
And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken
And life about to end
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend.
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

And now for something completely different -- Jesus' Brother Bob

Well, trolls, Lambeth, guys who run the red at the last second meaning they’re on the way INTO the crosswalk while you’re crossing through it with the light … We all need a little lightness in our lives.

What we need is The Arrogant Worms! It’s kinda hard to explain The Arrogant Worms, and it’s probably better not to try. You can look at them on Wiki, from which I’ve borrowed this (I think it's SO COOL that the links copy when I do this):

The Worms usually perform the following songs at every show:

• "Carrot Juice is Murder" — a parody of an animal rights protest song comparing vegetarians to murderers, including a line about Coleslaw being a fascist regime.
• "The Last Saskatchewan Pirate" — a ballad about a farmer who takes up piracy on the Saskatchewan River. The song was also covered by Captain Tractor.
• "Mounted Animal Nature Trail" — an audience interaction song about a real place [1] on Manitoulin Island: Terry's Taxidermy and Mounted Animal Nature Trail.
• "I Am Cow" — a bovine anthem.
• "We Are the Beaver" — a tribute song to one of Canada's symbolic animals, the beaver. The song mentions how the peaceful rodent compares to other nations' animals like America's bald eagle, Russia's bear and India's tiger.
• "Canada's Really Big" — A satirical national anthem for Canada.
• "Log In to You" — a love song using computer network euphemisms for sex.
• "Rocks and Trees" — A song describing the distinguishing features of Canada.
• "Jesus' Brother Bob" -- A song about Jesus' brother, Bob, who is always in the shadow of his brother. Bob is seen as "A nobody relative to the son of God", and states that "If only I'd been born just a little sooner, I'd be more than just the brother of God junior."

And, there’s a semi-religious quality to what I’m doing here, so I’m picking one of their best songs. I think this can stand as the Canadian Cultural Icon tonight too, since it’s my landlady and landlord’s wedding anniversary today and I’m invited for Shabbos supper, and then I’m going out to drink coffee on an outdoor patio at 10:30. Don’t know when I’ll get another chance.

Sarah McLaughlin -- Canadian Cultural Icon Night

Three posts in a day! Holy Mackerel! That virus I’ve had must be going.

Sarah McLaughlin is one of my favourite singers. Period. And, I like the songs – her poetry, the music, the way she plays her voice makes me SO jealous. She’s a Canadian Cultural Icon if I ever saw one. The hard part was picking which song to put on the blog. I’ve asked Pagan Sphinx to teach me how to post music files, without all the videos, and then I’ll put more of McLaughlin's music up. Here’s two, cuz she’s special. The first one, "Possession". She had a video released for this in Canada that wasn’t released elsewhere. YouTube told me I couldn’t see one video of the song in this country, and the other had no embedding. This is the one I saw on TV when it was released though. See how many characters you recognize. And the second, I wanted "Ice Cream", cuz it’s just lots of fun. It'll have to wait. You get "In the Arms of an Angel" instead.

This is from her website:

Sarah McLachlan has made a career out of putting herself on the line emotionally; fans are repeatedly drawn in to her candor and forthrightness in her lyrics and music, and in her efforts in putting together Lilith Fair, an all-female artist festival which successfully toured North America for three years in a row.

Rocks. Lions, The Twelve Steps and Having Babies

There used to be a professional dance series every winter at the local university. One of the women I went to church with, faculty wife, would buy tickets and six or eight of us would go, and go somewhere expensive for pretty desserts after.

One time we had seats in about the second row of this really small theatre. We think about ballet as airborne, ethereal, delicate ... We saw sweat, and the muscles that tightened and clenched, nipples erect, heard the "thump" after she leapt and landed, and always the footfalls or the slide of her foot across the stage was audible. It wasn't ballet she was doing; but it's one of those, "You can never go back from knowing it's like this," moments.

She was very tall, too tall to be a ballerina in a company, blonde, slender, elegant. After the intermission, she was wearing a yellow leotard. Dandelion yellow. It was just her. She did this dance. She had no props, okay, just her and the music, but she made me see what she was doing so clearly.

She had a bag of rocks. She carried it or dragged it everywhere, and it bent her double trying to shift it. She hated the bag of rocks. And yet ... She'd put it down in a corner of the stage and move away from it, and all the time she was away she'd watch it, then go back and get it. She unpacked it and took out some or all of these rocks ... and then she put them back. They hampered everything she did: got in her way, slowed and bent her, hurt her sometimes. And she couldn't give them up.

There has to have been a transition I can't remember; I remember the ending. She squatted on the stage and her body strained hard and she reached between her legs with both hands and gave birth to this bag of rocks. The part I can't remember is how we knew it was inside her; it had been outside, but giving birth is unmistakable. I was in labour with Tom from two a.m. until they found out he was oxygen-deficient and did a section cuz the labour wouldn't progress, the cervix needs to open 10cm and mine never got past 6, even with the pitocyn drip they used from 9 a.m. to make the labour. I had hard contractions every three minutes from 9 a.m. when they started the drip til 8 or so when they said we have to do the C-section.

I have never done anything that was harder physically. It starts out being the kind of hurt your muscles GET from labour, from work. Carrying or pushing. I think now Lamaze breathing is a type of self-hypnosis -- it didn't work for me. It hurt more than I could have believed: full-intensity every three minutes, there wasn't time for me to get a normal breath in between and I was sweating and crying. Months later, the resident who'd been with me told me that there was something about the angles of the uterus and pelvic saddle bones. That baby would never have come out; I'da just kept doing that until one or both of us died, if it wasn't for the section, and I'd always have to have sections if I had another baby.

So somehow, this dancer convinced us she could give birth to this bag of rocks, and she did. After that she was able to treat it kindly or lovingly, and then walk away from it forever, and you could see in her posture that she WAS free, finally.

I've always thought of my own bag of rocks since then. The people-pleasing and the lies, mostly, for me -- they were a bag of rocks, heavy ones, I carried around all the time and they prevented me. And I couldn't leave them, and sometimes I was even aware, this is me putting another rock in my bag. And God gave me what I needed to put it down.

I did a course at Div College, we read St. Benedict’s Rule, and had to write out our own Rule of Life. “Shit,” I thought, “I don’t have one.” But I do. I had to learn, the hard way, the Twelve Steps, starting over 20 years ago. So in my daily life, I do things that St. Benedict would have recognized – I pray. I meet and talk and listen with others on the journey. I do something just like an examen. I read St., Francis of Assisi’s prayer, “God, make me a channel of your peace …” And I’ve been told that the way to get the things I want into my life is to LIVE that prayer.

One of the most important things, and hardest, was Confession. You know, Anglicans are kind of dry about confession. We do it all in a group in the service on Sunday morning, and no-one has to say anything out loud. There’s no private confession on Saturday evenings. That’s probably good – how would you STAY in a state of grace all through Saturday night?

Step Four is “Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.” Step Five is “Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.” Ugh. Step Six is “Became entirely willing to have God remove all these defects of character,” and Seven is “Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.”

Four and Five were very hard. There were things I was deeply ashamed of having done. And the person I was going to tell – well, people who were supposed to love me had this habit of going away and leaving me alone when I didn’t do what I was supposed to. I had to tell someone I love the worst things I’d done – I was very afraid of what would happen next. He’d go away. I knew HE wouldn’t, but that’s what had always happened and I couldn’t see past that. What was more frightening was knowing what would happen if I didn’t. I’d be the one who went away. I’d have stopped being honest with the one person in my life I’d committed to myself to be honest with … and I’d stop being able to face him if I wasn’t. And, I’d go back to the life I had before, when I acted like a good girl, and did what I was told, and wanted to explode all the time. I didn’t, mostly, I did other self-destructive things. On the first Sunday in Lent, last year, I did it. I gave it all up to him. And that’s when I got free of that bag of rocks. I was like a bunch of helium balloons, that someone had let go the string of.

On the Thursday, I met with my Parish Priest, and did “The Rite of Reconciliation of a Penitent”. Confession and Absolution. I’d told him – I’m not telling you what I DID – I’ve done that. When the time came to fill in the blank, I just said, “The things I gave up to Bob on Sunday night.” It was enough. Steps Six and Seven. Then there was making amends … That’s a story for another day.

I go back sometimes and look at my bag of rocks and pick it up, and sometimes I even carry around new rocks for a while, an experiment ... But way deep inside, where babies grow, I KNOW that bag of rocks is NOT me anymore, and I don't have to have it, and I know how to put them down if I do carry them. And I'm upright and free.

All right, having a baby is hard, hard work. It was awful when I was going through it, and I'll admit, I begged them to turn off the pitocyn, just for 10 minutes so I could stop crying and get a grip. They couldn't. Poor Steve, the resident, was almost in tears telling me he couldn't.

AND I GOT THE BABY AND I'D DO IT ALL AGAIN IN A HEARTBEAT. Your body forgets pain. I remember that it hurt that much and it is impossible to go down inside and make it hurt again like that so I can feel it. Women have more than one baby because your body forgets and the end results are worth everything you give for them. I remember the shame and fear I had before I told someone what I’d done and who I’d been. But they don’t hurt me inside any more. And feeling like this is worth what I did for it.

All that was triggered by the Inward/Outward message in my e-mail box this morning:

It's heavy to drag...

William Stafford

It's heavy to drag, this big sack of what
you should have done. And finally
you can't lift it any more.
Someone says, "Come on," and you
just look at them. Trees are waiting,
mountains. You never intended
that it should come to this.

But Now has arrived and is looking
straight at you, the way a lion does
when thinking it over, and anything
can happen. It's time for the cavalry
or maybe the Lone Ranger. But they
won't come. Maybe the music will
spill over and start it all again.
Maybe.

Source: The Way It Is, New & Selected Poems

I was gonna share that with a friend and say, "I know what this is," and it turned into this post. I never intended “that big sack of what I should have done” to come to what it was, and the Lone Ranger isn't gonna be able to rid me of what's inside me. But the Now can if I'm prepared to cooperate with it. And the lion looking at you thinking it over ... Lions have been important for me the last couple of years – two years ago, I listened to Bruce Cockburn alla time -- "Had another dream about the lions at the door and they weren't so frightening as they were the time before and I'm thinking about eternity. Some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me." And now, lions and ecstasy are linked for me.

You’ve heard this before, if you’ve been hanging around, but it’s a new video and a live version.

Canadian Cultural Icon for Tracy K.

I’m posting the Canadian Cultural Icon now. But you gotta promise that first, you’ll go over to FranIAm and see the electric Jesus pickle. I laughed so hard I got hiccoughs.

I had coffee with Tracy this afternoon. Her Mom had got an infection and spent five days back in hospital, but is home now, and going out for short walks. She brought me two CD’s for my birthday – Joni Mitchell’s Hejira, “for my wanderlust” and Cat Stevens’ Teaser and the Firecat, “for the hippie-girl”. Wanna-be. But I’m allowing myself to indulge that these days. Leaving her, I said, “I have to go decide who’s going to be the Canadian Cultural Icon,” and she said, “Joni Mitchell”.

Of course! One of my favourite songs is on Hejira – “Song for Sharon”. So here it is, with love and gratitude for Tracy, and I know a few others out there who’ll love this too.

Yesterday will have been my birthday ...

I was going to say, “Today is my birthday,” but it’s been SO full – by the time I hit “Post”, yesterday will have been my birthday.

I’ll tell you – it’s just been one opportunity after another to see the fullness of my life. A friend in Texas sent a happy birthday e-mail as soon as it was after midnight and my birthday where he is. Oystercard is now in King’s Lynn and sent me a happy birthday song by e-mail. And my friend Robby sent me a happy birthday message too – he’s in San Bernardino. He’s 12 days younger than me. We’ve known each other since June 1962. He was my very first boyfriend, when we were 8 years old. We’re 53 this month. Birthday greetings from three different time zones!

My alarm went off!!! All right, that may not sound great, but it didn’t Sunday or Monday, and I missed church, and the barbecue lunch after. Today, I got to work on time, showered, with makeup on and dressed nicely. I forgot to make or pack breakfast, but I had eggs packed for lunch, so I bought an apple on the way and had that with the eggs and coffee. There was a birthday card on my desk when I got there.

Someone from church called and took me and another friend out for lunch, which meant eating the eggs for breakfast was okay. I got started on a project that’s a little boring, but needs to be done, at work. Made good progress, and was alone most of the day. The J. Geills band, Rolling Stones, Cream and The Eagles, all played loud, helped. Talked to Dad on the phone. Got an e-mail from a friend who trusted enough to tell me and someone else what hurts a lot. My boss came in in the afternoon – she’d made me a really beautiful birthday card.

Three friends went shopping this afternoon, and bought a picnic. We had maple-smoked ham and prosciutto and roast turkey and salami and five-year old cheddar, bocconcini, salad … I’d made gingerbread for a meeting Sunday evening, with lemon icing, and took some – I don’t eat it, cuz of the diabetes, but everyone else did. Fed the end of a baguette to the mallards, Canada geese, red-winged blackbirds and swallows. Watched families with bicycles, strollers and dogs; and adult cyclists, a walking club, and members of the rowing club, single and pairs-sculling. Talked and listened and laughed. I’d known about the picnic; they brought me a present too – a sampler box of Four O'Clock Fair Trade chai teas (I already know I love the rooibos chai), and a book called Solo: Writers on Pilgrimage, edited by Katherine Govier. Then we went somewhere else and drank coffee, and I’d run out of my favourite coffee this morning, so I bought a pound to bring home.

After I got home, I messengered for a while with my son. He’s forgotten my birthday, but I didn’t feel any need to make him feel bad by reminding him. Talked to my friend on the phone. Then I looked at NASA’s Astronomy Picture of the Day – here’s the picture, and the link, because it’s way better when it’s as big as the screen, and besides, they tell you something about the Lagoon Nebula in Sagittarius. How good is that picture for a birthday present? I’ve checked out a few blogs, but it’s late, and I’m going to go to bed soon – I’ll look at the rest tomorrow.

The whole day has been one opportunity after another to see how blessed I am, and how much I’ve been given in life. When I was on the phone a little while ago, I said, “I didn’t know it was possible to have any other kind of life than the one I did. [The one where I was stuck in my own helplessness and unhappiness, and couldn’t see any hope of change.] I never imagined this happiness was possible, let alone that the change could be this fast. I’m SO happy.”

Loud Music

MadPriest, Pagan Sphinx, PJ, Dennis have all been posting or talking about loud music this week. Dennis SAID he was going to post at his place, but he hasn't yet -- you'll have to read the comments thread at PJ's -- and she answered all his questions in a newer post too. I’ve been listening to a lot of loud music (except NOT what’s at OCICBW) – this week cuz I’m happy. Then I sing it all the time and drive everyone else nuts. Here’s ONE of my favourites this week – there might be more later on.

Canadian Cultural Icon Night -- Ben Heppner

Ben Heppner is an extraordinary dramatic tenor. His voice is, well, you’ll get to listen to it. Reviewers say his dramatic talent is excellent, and so are his diction, phrasing and interpretation of his roles.

He’s 52 years old now, and was born on the Canadian west coast, and lived in British Columbia and the Yukon Territory, and studied music at University of British Columbia. He’s just performed Siegried in Aix-en-Provence last week – Siegried as a lumberjack. The production didn’t get a great review, but he did. If you’re out in lumberjack country, he has concert dates in Seattle, Lethbridge, Vancouver, White Horse, Yellowknife and northern Alberta and Saskatchewan from mid-August through mid-October.

Siegried is one of his signature roles, as are Tristan and Lohengrin, but he doesn't confine himself to Wagner. It would have been easy enough to post a video of one of those, and I probably will, some other day. Tonight, you’re getting one of my favourite arias – “Nessun Dorma” from Puccini’s Turandot. Stunning, stunning. If you already like opera, it’s wonderful. If you don’t think you know or like opera, you’ll probably recognize it. If you really don’t think you like opera, well, it’s only three minutes and eight seconds long … And maybe this will change your mind.

The Effects of Cookies on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds

So many of us women in the blogosphere have been struggling with the way we feel about food, and its effects on our minds and bodies. I’ve read a couple of posts in the last two weeks – Sharecropper and Jan, for sure – whose doctors have told them things they didn’t want to hear, and then there are the comments threads. Food and my weight and resulting health issues have been part of my struggle for the last 40 years.

I’ve been thinking about posting about it for some time. God comes into it. And I’m getting very close to writing that post. In the meantime, I leave you with some expert commentary. I have to say, the first time I heard this was over 20 years ago, and the phrase, “with nooooo- body watching …” rang in me like a gong. That had so often been my pattern – eat for comfort as soon as I was alone and nobody was watching.

Turn the sound up loud!

It's Bedtime -- Dream a Little Dream ...

It’s a night for love songs. It’s not that there’s anyone to be playing love songs to. I’d consider volunteers though. It’s just one of those nights. It’s beautiful out – hot and we’re not yet having the forecast thunderstorms. And I’m deeply happy tonight. That makes a nice change.

My plan was Frank Sinatra singing “I Took a Trip on a Train (and I Thought About You)”, but there’s no YouTube of it, and I don’t have an mp3 file of it yet either. This is so high up on the list of second-best that it’s practically a tie. Cass Elliott sounds just lovely on this. I’ve never heard anyone sing it better, and I’m not sure I ever heard her sing anything else better. There’s just a still of the album cover by way of video – close your eyes while you listen and dream a little dream of someone special.

Canadian Cultural Icon Night -- Jane Siberry, now known as Issa

This is for Fran, Jan and Pagan Sphinx.

Jane Siberry’s my age, almost. She’s got this sweet, sweet voice, and her songs are as lovely and complicated and interesting as they come. She’s kind of a cult hit.

A couple of years ago, she changed her life radically – sold all her stuff, changed her name to Issa, which she says is a female variant on Isaiah. As Kate Morningstar, I know that reaching 50 and changing my life and name, the new choice is intensely personal.

For today, for this post, I’ve put Jane Siberry, because it’s also her choice that the music she recorded when that was her name be sold with that name.

Love to everyone. Enjoy. And, good night.

PJ's "Song that makes you go Yeah" Meme

PJ has a stay-at-home meme, the “post a few lines from a song that makes you go yeah” meme. Pray ‘em if you got ‘em for her – she has a birthday party full of seven-year olds and a visit from in-laws in the near future, and an article that’s not been going well.

My 22-year old niece was here today, helping me out with a big stack of clothes that needed sorting through. Basically, this meant I tried things on and she watched YouTube videos and was the talking mirror – yes, keep that; no, that doesn’t do anything for you; no, you must never, ever wear that colour; that’ll work again if we take in the side seams …

She left this video up when she left and I just love it. So I watched it three times, and found the lyrics via Google. Here’s the lyrics:

That life is too short to be unhappy
And since I know what I'm worth there'll be no settling for dirt
Not when what I deserve is gold
If I want diamonds then I can't settle for coal and

Maybe I was just too strong to let go
Maybe I was just too weak to let it show
Maybe I was just too stubborn to say "No"
But whatever the case I can't take it no more

And here’s the video. If anyone had ever told me I’d be posting a video by Fatboy Slim, I’da said, “Who’s Fatboy Slim?” But, VIOLA!!! The video’s really great – pretty girl; happy things going on. Enjoy!

A Gift from a Good Friend

Oystercard sent me this video, months ago. I had conversation with him tonight – he seems to be suffering from oxygen deprivation of his brain in the Rockies somewhere, and he hasn’t updated his travel blog in QUITE SOME TIME.

Even if he were around, Erin Bode doesn’t quite fall into his mandate, so I’m just going ahead and posting the video and saying thanks to him for it. She’s lovely, she’s got a lovely voice, and it’s one of those kinds of love songs. I think I remember from something else – she’s married to the saxophonist.

What I did THIS weekend ...

So, Mother’s Day weekend, I hung out with my in-laws. And the weekend after that (the Canadian long weekend), I dyed my hair red, painted my nails orange, read books, wrote a poem, drew a mandala, prayed a lot, and hid out from only a few people.

This weekend was different. I saw friends Saturday afternoon – one reminded me of a food/music/art festival this weekend down by the harbour. He knew (and I didn’t) who the headliner was going to be, and that there would be fireworks after. We both love the headliner. And we decided that it would be more fun (if the thunder and lightning stopped) to go together than to go each of us alone and hope maybe we ran into someone to hang with.

I went home, dried my hair (again) and put on a dry shirt (again). Then I called my Dad. He got through that crisis around Easter, and he’s been maintaining pretty well since then, with a change of medications. Yesterday he told me yes, come for supper Wednesday, but no, he’s not up to barbecuing fish, and maybe not to cooking inside either. Dad can always cook. There’s fluid building up in his belly again – he’s not able to eat much either. So, I’m going, and maybe I’ll let him tell me how he wants the fish cooked. His birthday’s two weeks tomorrow. Prayers, please, my friends – that it be gentle and painless for him, when it’s time, and that the time not be too long for him.

God IS holding my Dad, and me too, so I let God do what he can do better than me. It stopped raining, and I talked to my friend and we planned where to meet and when, and I had to run for it. We met. We got seats. He’d brought a thermos of tea and two cups. I got some wings for my dinner (he’d eaten) and I offered to share, but I like Five-Alarm wings and he didn’t. We drank bottles of water and listened to a bluegrass duo, and a band we didn’t like, and then an hour-and-a-half or so of David Wilcox. He did this song, Hypnotizin’ Boogie. He did my favourite too, Layin’ Pipe, and my friend’s, Do the Bearcat, was the encore. The energy level of the show was like this, all through. After that, there were fireworks – the closing one was like giant sparklers, fifty of them, all at once. I’d never seen ones like that before, and they made me feel as happy as if I was six years old.

We walked back to the centre of town cuz we’d sat enough. Then we had a cup of coffee together. Another friend walked past and said he couldn’t sit with us, because he had to go to his mother’s and it was already 12:20. Twelve-twenty!!! What the heck happened? We’d met at 6:30. I had to run to catch the last bus, and I just did. It was a great evening. Clear, by evening, and it got chilly, but we both had jackets, and there were stars on the way home.

My family’s changes have been huge in the last couple of years. Days of nothing but fun have been rare. Last night was nothing but fun. It was a gift. Enjoy the music.

This one's for me and Pagan Sphinx

I just love this song – “And the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses …”

Canadian Cultural Icon -- Anne Murray

This video has all the earmarks of being illegally recorded on a cellphone. The colour and brightness and focus are bad. The sound’s not really great either. The song’s kinda mushy too.

But it’s a totally classic Anne Murray song. One of the best. She has a fabulous voice. She still looks, after all these years, like a phys ed. teacher, in a good way. And face it – if she’d been a phys ed. teacher, she’da been the one you loved. The one you could ASK stuff – even the hard stuff.

This was recorded last month, in Moncton, New Brunswick, which isn’t far from home for Anne. The sound worked a little better for me when I turned it down on the computer, and let the speakers do the work. Enjoy!!!

Canadian Cultural Icon Lucky No. Seven -- Gordon Lightfoot

Just because I’m going away doesn’t mean you don’t get a Friday culture pick. Well, this one’s easy. I really wanted to put “The Canadian Railroad Trilogy” up here, a Gordon Lightfoot epic from the 1960’s. It’s beautiful, and I love it, and I have a kind of love-song attachment to it, which I won’t go into here. It takes a long time though.

And this “Song for a Winter’s Night” is just sweet and lovely. MadPriest has a Send In Your Favourite Love Song thing going on now – this is in my Top Five. Haven’t sent him one yet though.

Song For A Winter's Night Lyrics
Artist: Gordon Lightfoot (Buy Gordon Lightfoot CDs)
Album: The Way I Feel

The lamp is burnin' low upon my table top
The snow is softly falling
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly calling
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon each page
The words of love you sent me
If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin'
The morning light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin'
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you
And to be once again with with you