It’s Time To Say Goodbye

For the benefit of the ones who can't come tomorrow to the farewell party, here's my attempt at speech making: they'll hear it live, you can stop any time you want and tune off…

This is a good time for giving thanks, like in the Oscars, except if you don’t want to hear it – well too bad, you can’t push me off my own stage.

I want to thank all of you for the outstanding support over the years.
This shop turned out to become what I wanted when I dreamed it. Except for the money part.

When it was clean and freshly painted and completely empty, in the spring of 2007 – I performed a purifying ceremony here, burning sage in olive oil and casting away the leftover vibes from the previous occupants, and telling my friend Janice what I want to do here. I think she filmed it on her video camera.
I told her I wanted a place for serenity, beauty, friendship, warmth, music, love and comfort. A place where people came in and felt welcome and wanted to stay. And low and behold – somehow it came to be.

It was not devoid of nastiness in between, not always pink bubbly. But the lessons I’ve learned here are going to last me a lifetime.

I have to thank all my friends for telling me I could do it and should do it, and for listening to my stories over the years, the nice ones and the not nice ones, and share in my deliberations, and their advice and condolences and efforts and of course for shopping here and loving it.

I have to thank Izzy for being the man he is, steady, funny and oh so patient, and for providing the counterpoint to my adventures: he’s been saying for years I should call it quits, and that kept me going just to prove him wrong.

I thank Amitai for the reluctant help over the years, specially the year after my father died and I went into a bit of a slump. He sat here and did his best and kept his mouth shut and his bitching to himself, mostly. I love you.

I thank the devoted shoppers, the weekly visitors, the ones who came once a year to stock up on clothes for the season, the ones who came from far away, other provinces and cities and even countries, the story-tellers, the lovers of fine clothes, the treasure hunters, the converts to second hand shopping, and of course the consignors. You made this experiment worthwhile. Not financially lucrative enough for me to retire in style, but the landlord sure did, and I’m sure he thanks you too.
You warmed my heart with your life stories, sharing with me things that I will never forget. To me money is sweeter when it comes with a good sentiment, a feeling something more valuable than bills has passed between the parties. Of course I continually wished there was more money in this business so I could stop worrying about the rent, but maybe there’s another lesson in there I haven’t figured out just yet.

I even thank the shoplifters and the burglars and the hard-nosed low ballers, who provided the contrast to all the good, and the opportunity to comprehend the desperation of some of us humans, to see face to face the misery of a life that has no capacity for compassion or reflection. I feel they too made the fabric of this experience richer. I don’t forgive and I certainly don’t forget the disappointment I felt, but I learned something from them, and everything you learn is valuable. No one should be walking around believing everyone is good, and be surprised when they meet the bad. Learning to watch out and be careful is one hard lesson to learn.

The most vital thing that I found here is that I learned to know and love mankind, and the man in me. I didn’t know men very well before I did this. I think some of the essence of men surfaced in me, and I like this resilience that I found and I like that I am able to use it when I need it.

And that’s about all there is, folks. I’ll be seeing you.

Dead Beauties

From the AGO photography exhibit (shhhh, don't tell on me), inspiring images of faces long dead:
The first one is a painting of a newspaper clipping of a murdered girl, doesn't she have a ghost like quality?
The blur is in the painting, not my doing:

And this one, as classic as a Botticelli muse, 20'th century style:

From the Great Upheaval show, the one that stayed with me is this masterpiece by Picasso, called Moulin de la Galette.
It is difficult to say what attracts me in this image the most. Perhaps the delicate line of the chin of the woman who is whispering in her friend's ear, or is she leaning in for a kiss? to see the subtlety of that one brushstroke you need to get close, almost kiss the painting. It is a marvel.

Viewing Pleasures - Chapter One: The Past

This is cocooning time of year, as unspeakably low temperatures grow fiercer in the wind, when all you want to do is crawl under the covers, or into a dark theatre after a good warm meal, and allow your mind to wander the globe through the screen.
We've been watching stuff - lots of stuff. From Sweden, Denmark, New Zealand, France. TV dramas that our dedicated crew at the local video shop are kind enough to bring in, and movies.

Lets do the latest movie first: The Past - the creator is an Iranian director, Asghar Farhadi. He places this story in Paris, not the Paris you see in a Woody Allen movie. Not the elegant chick Parisian glory saved for tourist, not the river and the churches. Instead we get the decrepit misery of the working class, but the crazy dramas that plague life for rich and poor alike are all there.
The theme of the story is the ripple effect our small personal choices have on the lives of everyone we touch. The ripples are more tsunami like than gentle waves: A displaced man riddled with depression leaves his family behind to go seek peace of mind in the old country. The end result is a woman he has never met and never will in a hospital bed in a coma. The trajectory of small seemingly unrelated actions people take that lead us there is the basis for this tragedy.
Don't expect laughs, there aren't any. Not a single smile crosses the faces of these people. They see no humour in their situation, because there isn't any. Love, passion, hope for something good is what these people want, they think what they do will get them what they want, but they make wrong choices, and others pay the price.
It's a good movie. Bleak but very good.

Last Day 2013 - Make it A Good Day

Every day counts, but lasts and firsts make us think about the passage of time more.
Every day we do small things that make us a little lighter inside.
For me it is a simple daily pleasure, my morning coffee in my kitchen, my quiet time. I don't rush it. I savour it and I know I am blessed to have it all - the kitchen, the good coffee grinds, the choice of a cup I like, the time - more than anything else - the time.
If I have companions for my little ritual I feel it's an extension of my privilege. It could be a cat, a child, a partner, a neighbour, a friend. Once in a blue moon, a sister - in the flesh or on skype from far far away. Every one of those is a welcome addition, never an interruption.
I wish you a year filled with the small things that make your own life a blessed life.

Night Train To Lisbon

A plug in for a very good movie that did not get the recognition it deserved:
With the fabulous lead of Jeremy Irons, his voice as deep, enticing and soothing as it ever was, and a supporting cast that is the best of the best. The backdrop story is of the darkest times in Portugal's recent political and social history, of which I'm ashamed to say I was completely ignorant. The intricate web of love and hate that happens between friends and enemies, and what time does to both is what makes this movie deep and thoughtful.
Based on a novel which I intend to read, of the same name.


All thumbs up for this one.

The Hawk Lives

They took care of it until his eye healed and released him back to the wild last week.
Sometimes good things happen.

Birds of Prey in the City

A wounded specimen of this magnificent species - Northern Goshawk - landed, unintentionally I'm sure, on my doorstep this morning, and was taken to a wildlife rescue centre shortly after I called the city. I am grateful that we live in a city that cares enough, but the truth is this center operates solely on donations. If you can, call Toronto Wildlife Center and give them some money. They need every penny, and no amount is too small.

Nobel for Alice, Hurrah!

It gives me a little bit of hope to hear this morning of Alice Munro getting the Nobel prize. She well deserves it. After my great dismay in learning that evil Putin, a man who lives by the sword, is nominated for the Peace prize, the whole thing completely lost any credibility in my opinion. This restores a little bit of what is lost.
Here's a toast to the Great Alice, to Canadian Literature, and to all the people around the globe who live by their art. They make our lives richer.

Sherman Alexie - What a Fabulous Writer!

I'm reading a collection of short stories of this very good author, and the stories are indeed very short. Yet I find that occasionally I have to halt mid sentence and rest before I can move on to the next line, sometimes the power of his words is too much to bear. He is blunt and unflinching, looks into the lives of Native Americans and offers it to us so plainly it hurts.
It hurts not because we see the situations he writes about from above, or unrelated to other cultures as our circumstances are so very different; no, it hurst because on the basic level of human existence we all hope for the same things. Some of the people who populate his pages are damaged beyond repair, and some still have some hope. No matter where they are on their journey, he follows them around, and lets us have a peak.
Reading his stories is a humbling experience.


“I suddenly understood that if every moment of a book should be taken seriously, then every moment of a life should be taken seriously as well.” Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian.

“But none of them laughed as hard about my beautiful brain as I knew my father would have. I miss him, the drunk bastard. I would always feel closest to the man who had most disappointed me.” Sherman Alexie, War Dances.

House FUll of Flowers

How good to start a new year with a flower at every corner?




Wishes for the new year from around the table included fine words such as compassion, love, patience, peace of mind, clarity, music and art, togetherness, and of course, like every good pageant: World Peace.
Amen to all.

Reviving An Old Treasure

The Front Page, a diamond of a movie directed by Billy Wilder, shoots words at you at a speed of a racing car. You miss one, you missed the whole scene. It's the opposite of those TV shows of today where you come back to the same channel 2 hours later and the very same stupid faces stare at each other with "meaningful" looks that say nothing in particular. No, this play makes each and every word that's hurled at you count. Of course every other word is as foul as they come, and the characters are all bad - there are no good people in this screwball comedy. Everyone is stinking rotten, only for different reasons.
It stars Jack Lemon and Walter Matthau, fast talkers from a different era, back when actors knew how to use their eyebrows, before botox took that option away.
Half way through we realized we've seen it before, under the name "His Girl Friday". It doesn't matter, it's brilliant no matter how many times they'll make it over.

Unexpected Gifts

How nice it is when my appreciative customers just drop by to say hello or bring me a treat, or to tell me their latest escapades. I love that aspect of having a community shop. The best one last week was this: one of them is a great poet. He came over just to gift me one of his poetry books. This book is a beautiful thing: Two poets engage in a conversation that sheds light on their daily inner lives, across generations, genders and a wide continental gap. They come together in these pages to bring beauty and quiet contemplation to the rushed voices inside our heads. If we care to lend an eye, ear, thought to their short clear sentences.
The two are David Bateman and Naomi Beth Wakan.

Here is a little quote from the book "Pause":

no matter
how many words we say
to each other
the essence lies in the spaces between
the essence lies in the pauses

P.S. - The long Ships Movie Circa 1964

Don't bother. Awful stuff. Pure rubbish.
Truly disrespectful to the book upon which it is based. An anathema, in fact.
How can someone take a work of art and turn it into a preachy Christian snooze is beyond me.
Apparently a new Swedish produced movie is in the works as we speak. I hope they indulge in true Pagan bloodletting, slave-driving drudgery, lustful flesh, and show us the beauty of Mother Earth with proper cinematography while they're at it.
Why Swedish, when the vikings in this book are Danes, that is my question.

Books, Water, Skies - A Recipe for Happiness

These are the things I've always been partial to, since my childhood on my father's ships' decks (not his own ship, he was the captain). This combination still works to restore my sense of self: A good book, a sunny day in the proximity of a large body of water.
I've recently finished reading The Book of Ebenezer Le Page by Gerald Basil Edwards. It is a dense masterpiece which took me some time to get through, but well worth it. It was a privilege to spend time with the man in whose voice the book is written, a thoughtful kind and right-hearted man from the isle of Guernsey, who chronicles the changes of the small world around him, and leaves it in the end with only love in his heart. He lives his entire life in one house on the island, yet he never feels restricted. The way he looks at the people around him is timeless and soul-searching.


And now I'm on another long-reaching one, space wise: The Long Ships, by Frans G. Bengtsson. It is the story of the travels and adventures of a viking named Orm, told in a language so bemused and unassuming as to capture the imagination of a child, yet good enough to eat. Great fun. It could be a great adventure film. The fighting, blood, costumes and turn of fortune are perfect for the screen. In fact, there is an old movie based on it. A good one to spend the summer with.

C & C : Cupcakes and Cocktails

They may not look like much, but one bite of these little lethal salted caramel cupcakes, made by the loving hands and wicked mind of my dear friend The Rat for Our Mutual Friend's birthday (she who shares the birthdate of my dear late father) - one bite and I roll my eyes, and feel like I've died and gone to heaven.
"They are better than sex" is exactly what I said, and I meant it.
Coupled with the most saturated cocktail made by moi, it was a Sunday afternoon to be reckoned with, all around.

A Hot Thursday in The City

What a day it was.
The lingering heat is one thing. To have the street where we live evacuated because a gas pipe was accidentally "tapped" by construction workers - an unwelcome disturbance.
I closed the shop and came home to see that the kids are ok. They were not, of course. We tried to make the best of it.
I helped the oldest neighbour on our street find shelter from the oppressive heat, and put the policeman in charge to work checking up on him periodically. Then we sought refuge at a friend's air-conditioned house for the rest of the afternoon.
I'm going to purchase a cooling device for the house today; enough is enough. So far my resistance to it was based on the contention that heat in this country is a passing thing, that we should just deal and take it in stride. But this week is testing my resolve. I'm caving in.
And of course, as a result, we have no hot water now. Of course. It's the perfect day for a cold shower, luckily.

Sweet Sunny Spots

Sometimes, you need not look any further than your very own kitchen. The cats know it is the best place to catch some warmth, and so do I:

Bliss

Last week was unsettling for me on a few levels, but the weekend has proved to be more than worthy in calming nerves and stomachs.
What can work better than meeting this little fellow on an evening kayak ride? in one instant you know in your heart of hearts what's what in life:

Ah, yes, this:

And This:

And many hours of solitude with this, and a masterpiece of a book on hand:

There is something good in the world when a good friend trusts you enough to leave you all alone in her cottage for a night, knowing it will still be there the next day, and you will be once again a happy companion.

On the Airwaves about Bartering

http://www.cbc.ca/ontariotoday/2013/07/02/tuesday-do-you-barter-for-clips-and-services/

A call in show on CBC yesterday took my call. I'm the last caller at the end of the podcast.
There was such a short time to explain the concept, and I was a bit nervous, it's not quite clear how the bartering works for me so let me elaborate:
The consigners who choose to spend their share of the sale in the shop use it as credit on their purchase if it is a larger amount, or a reduction from their purchase if it's smaller.
Another bartering experience I didn't get a chance to talk about is this: I got my piano tuned for the price of an expensive pair of glasses. Both of us, the renowned piano tuner Jamie Musselwhite and I, were very happy. He looks cool in his Oliver People's round glasses, and my piano no longer has a sticky middle F#, a very usable key. Not to mention, there is a consigner out there who is due his share of the glasses. He's happy too.

Accentuating the Positives

These are strange times.
I walk the streets of my neighbourhood and find more and more old architectural treasures in the clutches of "development". It makes me sad and I feel I'm continually mourning my city. Everywhere we go a sign the size of a small apartment pronounces an application to city hall for a redevelopment that promises to replace an old Victorian row house with a tower of an indistinct nature that is going to look like a slum in 20 years or less.
How Pathetic is the state of our nation, that we sit and let it happen without trying to put a stop to it?
Truth is, the building where I am, this little shop, is under the same threat after changing ownership recently. I can see it coming, even though it could be years in the making. The noose is already being tied in some back room of the wheelers and dealers at the planning departments and city councillors, behind the scenes and far from anyone's ears.

That rant over, let's think about the nice things in life, to replace these bitter disappointments with a bit of sweetness.

* Summer vacation. No morning rush, no afternoon classes. Leisurely dinners, movies, rest, warm sunny days in housecoats and nothing else.

* Summer festivals in the city of Doom (this is what I'm calling Toronto from now on) - culture, music, art. Some counterbalance to the greed and ugliness of the "It's not personal, it's business" crowd we have to live with these days. Thank the universe for artists.

* The nasturtiums are blooming - YEA!!!

* A new chimney towers over my house at last, the 100 year old one put to rest (together with a large chunk of money).

* New delightful customers discovering my shop of treasures every day.