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Showing posts from September, 2021

Three Things podcast - Episode 37: Snap! Crackle! Pop!

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Happy end of the week, friends!  Here is this week's Three Things podcast (5:27): I use this list to gently force myself to do a better job noticing the things I notice that make me feel a bit happy or a bit grateful these days. Because, these days. These days can make you feel obliterated. Maybe that's the play. Anyways, I don't have the words, the personality or the stomach to make my stand in the anger arena, so, as my friend Fish points out, I go micro.  This week micro sounds like:  1.  Snap! The wind was King Lear wind and it brought the curtain down on the mountain ash tree in our front yard in Parkview where it had stood and served for more than 50 years. Spring after spring, the tree was a public house for travelling waxwings out to drink in a bit of the shiny, new world. In summer, it gave us cool shade. In fall, the tree plugged into an invisible electrical current, and glowed. In winter, the red berries held tiny mounds of snow to resemble the hats of so many R

Three Things from Edmonton podcast - episode 36: coffee gift, Mandelstam, gift of produce

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From Edmonton, Canada, happy end of the week, friends.  Here are three things that I noticed made me happy or grateful this week.  This week's podcast and transcript. 1.  Human beans  ☕ I was out for a morning bike ride and was coming up to a construction crew putting in new sidewalks on Saskatchewan Drive near the Humanities Building. Infrastructure scenes are rich. Hard hats, big boots, worn jeans, rumbling cement trucks, laughter, cigarettes held ash tip and ember pointed in—and the greatest care with rakes and trowels to set the sidewalks as perfect as paragraphs. Anyways, three workers were just ahead of me, kneeling down, stirring their coffees.  “Looks like I arrived at the right time for coffee,” I said as I passed, as a joke, a throwaway question.  Without a second of delay, buddy says back to me, “Brother, how do you take yours? Cream? Sugar? Just black?”  “Half a cup,” I said, “just black, you are very kind.”  “Absolutely,” he said, “it will get you through the rest of y

Three Things from Edmonton podcast - Episode 35: stamp albums, the Pepins, the police

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  Happy end of the week, friends! I am no fan of death or dying, but I do enjoy a good graveyard every now and then. This week's podcast . Here are three things I noticed that made me happy or grateful this week. 1. Stamp collecting Walking through the rows of headstones at the St. Joachim Cemetery off 105 Avenue reminded me of leafing through my childhood stamp album. Before I ever heard of George Gershwin, I had a George Gershwin stamp, US Postal Service 8 cents, 1973. And an Emily Dickinson stamp from 1971, and, from 1975, a 10 cent Paul Laurence Dunbar, American poet, stamp. These postage stamps, and the ones of kings and queens and prime ministers and presidents chancellors and moose and the St.Lawrence Seaway and International Women’s Year, were miniature windows into big worlds far away from mine in northeast Edmonton. On my Germany page was a stamp from 1948 of a sour looking dude called G.W. Fr. Hegel, whom I wouldn’t meet until university, drinking beer at Dewey's.

Three Things from Edmonton podcast - Episode 34: fashion statements, autumn leaves, single track mind

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Happy end of the week, friends! 🚨 Understatement Alert: These are strange and troubling times.  I find it helpful sometimes to go small, and, while not ignoring the latest giant outrages, and reacting to them, I try, too,  to notice what I notice that makes me happy or grateful. To secure the bastion of sensation, as Heaney might say. It might be the only way to preserve myself. This week's podcast . This week's three things: Sisters in session, far right 1. Fashion statements It was Auntie Shelagh’s birthday last week. Her four sisters who live in these parts took her out for lunch at Juniper in Strathearn. The topic of conversation turned, as it typically does, to stories of childhood. Childhood was six girls and three boys, so, there are some real yarns. I like listening to them talk, the sisters, sometimes all at the same time, about their clothes from those fading days. Their mother, Phyllis, was a prodigious sewer. Clothes for holidays, school pictures, occasions, weddin