Three Things from Edmonton podcast -- Episode 126: strong ads, fingersqueak, cats

Here are three things in a tough week that left behind tracks of happiness and gratitude.

Three Things, episode 126: 

                                 

1. Strong ads 

I enjoy a good ad. I think I get this from my Edmonton grandmother. She would watch TV commercials as if they were part of the show we were actually watching. And she would laugh out loud at a clever line or a twist ending to a commercial. She never got tired of the client’s surprise when Madge the manicurist told her she was soaking in it. Over the years, I’ve looked under the hood of advertisements to try to figure out what makes commercials tick. Tony Schwartz has been a reliable mechanic. Schwartz was the brains behind one of the most memorable political ads in U.S. history, the infamous Daisy spot that targeted Barry Goldwater without ever mentioning him. 

Decades ago, Schwartz used the term “resonance,” still so popular these days, to distinguish between ads that ring a belief or a feeling or a judgment already in us from the less effective ads that try to tattoo their audience with so-called key messages. From within or from without is the choice that faces advertisers. This bit of theory by way of background to the question I want to get to, which is, have you seen the new IKEA ads about baby items? They resonate. 

One pic shows a mother with a baby asleep on her chest while the Smâgöra crib goes unused. The Bolmen step stool is forgotten while mom boosts the child who is brushing her teeth. The Antilop high chair sits empty while dad feeds a youngster on his lap. IKEA wants its audience to conclude that its extensions are poor replacements for human chests and arms and laps.

As a young mom, Shelagh held her ground against all the advice from experts who would have her babies left apart. Somebody from IKEA is in tune with that Shelagh, who hasn’t changed her mind much as a young grandmother. 

IKEA knows that, too, I feel.

2. Fingersqueak 

Here’s my advice if you’re in a car in the afternoon rush hour heading south into the traffic circle by Sherbrooke Liquor with a plan to take it three quarters of the way around so you come out heading eastbound. Just go to Sherbrooke Liquor and support local. Wait the gridlock out. For two full light sequences, I didn’t move. Not an inch. Not the distance from one guitar fret to the next. The black pickup next to me wasn’t moving either. Well, it was. Sideways, though. The pounding and pulsing of the speakers in the truck door surely reminded the driver at some mysterious level of his time in the womb. 

I turned to music for consolation, as well. For me, it was the band Darlingside. Darlingside from the phonetic Latin for a writer’s willingness to kill one’s darlings. Shelagh and I have been fans since experiencing Darlingside at the Folk Fest in 2019. I keep a screenshot of her text:

I’ve been listening to them since 10 minutes later.

Eliza I See is one of the early drip release songs from the new album, and it was that song that was my companion in the traffic circle standstill. Eliza I See. Is that a pronouncement of sudden vision, like "Eureka!" or is it a statement identifying the particular woman or girl who has come into view? I went around and around. The song is a modern nursery rhyme, Shelagh says. 

The song has fingersqueak, too. Fingersqueak is the sound of the guitar player’s fretting hand moving up and down the neck as a chord is changed. It’s the sound of flesh on steel. It’s acoustic metadata. It struck me as a sonic mark of authenticity. Which I needed Tuesday afternoon in the traffic circle of hell on St. Albert Trail and 118 Avenue. 

3. Cats 

Julius The Cat belongs to our friends Cynthia and Murray as much as any cat belongs to its owners, but, in Julius’s case, likely, even less. We pedalled over for dessert and coffee last week. A lovely flourless chocolate cake was served. Cynth brought out a bowl of homegrown lemons. We told stories from years ago while the smoky sun set. Not everyone was content to linger over coffees and conversation. Grouchy Julius the Cat wanted out. Grouchy and clever Julius the Cat jumped up the three feet to the back door lever, pulled it down to open the door and would have been gone if Murray hadn’t seen that getaway scene before. It was remarkable to see a cat launch himself straight up, manipulate a door handle and hang there, using gravity,  to open the door. Felines do physics. Huh!  It was the most remarkable thing a cat has done since the infamous episode years ago when Michael, our youngest son, blamed a neighbourhood cat for turning on and forgetting to turn off our backyard water faucet. We suspect it was Michael who left the water running, but, cat-like, he has never confessed. 

What has happened over the years is that Michael has become a cat person. He and Aleasha share their house with Holly and Hunter. They go for walks. The cats have leashes. His brother Alex is also a cat person. Alex and Kendra have Winston. I don’t understand cats, and am not fond of them, have to say.  My grandmother in Winnipeg had an old imperious cat—Pussinka she was called. Pussinka was never happy to see us. She drifted through the house on Lansdowne like she had all the time in the world. It’s strange to me that our sons are cat people. I don’t know where they got that from. I don’t recognize that part of them.  But they don’t really care what I think about them and their cats, which is as it should be. And what you really want for Father’s Day.

Thanks for being out there, friends.