Glenn Kubish

Here are three things that moved the needle of happiness and gratitude in the week that was. Three Things from Edmonton, episode 139:                               1. Sounds of summer   When the snow comes and the land in this part of the country sounds its long steady note of winter, other sounds will drift out of range for a time. That’s why I ignored the voice inside me that said get up and go do something productive, and, instead, stayed where I was, sitting in a chair in the backyard, listening to rain falling down onto the gazebo roof overhead.   When the snow comes and the side streets and back roads are shined up like glass, access to other sounds will lie buried for a time. To prepare, I looked down and listened to my bike tires bite into a gravel road at the University Farm as I pedalled to pick up a dozen fresh eggs. Not a bite as much as a sizzle, to hear it. When the snow forces bare feet b...

  Happy end of the week, friends. To keep the noticing equipment from disintegrating, here are three things I noticed I noticed that made me feel happy or grateful. (Just a little longer today. It takes Arendt awhile to get to the point.) Episode 75:                                1. Taking readings   Monday morning’s first stop, even before the bathroom, even before coffee, was the mailbox. The New York Times Sunday edition is delivered overnight. One pound of news. I scanned the headlines. In Ukraine, an ‘Endless Caravan of Death’ ... How Gun Makers Harness Fear to Supercharge Sales ... A Key Hurdle for Prosecutors: Proving What Trump Believed . I am slightly consoled by the mere organization of the newspaper—all this havoc made to fit in boxes, all the power and greed’s copy neatly standing in perfect towers of print, left and right justified. If the message were the medium, a newspaper would b...

Here, for the week of noticing things that made me feel happy or grateful ending February 4, 2022, is the Three Things podcast . 1. Sign of summer 🌻 I love winter in Edmonton, especially when there’s new snow. It’s like a fresh comforter out of the wash. But there are cold days—I’m looking at you last Monday—when the north wind casts snow across the roads so the roads themselves appear to be in motion. The strands of white look like strips of cirrus clouds skimming at fast forward speed over the asphalt. The snow works itself into swervy shapes that bury the work of sidewalk shovellers. On those days, you open the front door to see four inches of snow lining the threshold. There are signs this geometry of winter is not eternal. In fact, I saw one of those signs last week. It was in the middle of a field in the Rossdale Flats. The sign read: "See you on the hill 2022." This means the Edmonton Folk Music Festival intends to be back on Gallagher Hill this August. This is music ...