Glenn Kubish

Here, in Three Things, episode 102, are some things that I am happy and grateful came into focus this week:                              1. Sliding home   I carried up our front walk a cardboard box containing the remains of my parents’ Ektachrome slide collection from the 1950s and 60s. We were hosting Christmas Eve dinner, the first with four generations around the table. After food upstairs, and with the basement lights down, my dad brought the projector back to life. The fan whirred. The lamp shone, illuminating flecks of interstellar dust. The slide tray turned with that unforgettable sound that powerfully recalls for me a key turning in a lock and opening a door, even though I have no such memory of any such key or door in real life. We saw their old cars—the red VW Beetle in the California Redwoods, the ‘55 Oldsmobile, the ‘65 Ford Custom, the ‘67 baby blue Chrysler Windsor. Go back, go back, Emma and...

From up here on latitude 53, here are some things that made for some happiness and gratitude this past week.  Three Things, episode 101:                             1. Family reunion   On our way to share a Christmastime evening with musician friends, we crossed paths, in the lobby of their building, with Shelagh’s cousin. This happens routinely. Ninth of nine, with uncles and aunts with big families themselves, Shelagh reunites relatively often, impromptu-style, with her clan. One day we were walking in Ottawa, and there was Anna. We were out cycling near Beaumont, and there was Michael. Michael, the son of Mike, that is, the cousin of Michael, both Michaels the grand nephew of the late Michael—Michaels, and a Michaela, happen in Shelagh’s family, too. The Mike who is the father of Michael could have called his own uncle Michael Father, the latter being a Catholic priest. I’m now out too far on this limb, b...

Once a week I’ve try to notice what I noticed made me happy or grateful. So the noticing equipment doesn’t freeze up. This week's podcast is episode 100:                            1. Wherewithal   Through the kindness of friends and the historical support of taxpayers, I got to Rogers Place to watch an Oilers game in person. The person I watched, with the puck, without the puck, watched even as he skated onto the ice for warm-up, was Connor McDavid. It’s a different Connor McDavid than you see sometimes at the dog park or at the IGA, where he’s just another dog lover and coupon clipper. On the ice, on skates, free from the hold of the thick earth, #97 moves like the wind. Over, between, into, against, around, across, through, by. He skates prepositionally. And that would be quite good enough if what he did for a living was the league’s skating skills competition. He plays hockey, though, and that means he skates...

It’s been cold here.  Cold is a preserving agent.   Here are three things that left behind tracks of happiness and gratitude during a bike ride home through that cold.                               1. Cold comfort   I was breakfasted up, helmeted up, goggled up and ready to head into the dark December morning. First, though, a quick reality check with Siri from Cupertino. This is the actual convo: Me: Siri, what’s the temperature outside? Siri: It’s negative 26 degrees outside. Me: Well, that’s a rather negative comment. Siri: I’m sorry. Me: No, that’s what we say up here! Siri: Is there something else I can help with? Me: Well, if you can help with the temperature? Siri: It’s negative 27 degrees outside. Before another degree went south, I resolved up, opened the back door and walked outside into an atmospheric cloud of dryer exhaust, got on my fatbike and pedalled for downtown. Thirty seconds of ...