Author Archives: admincj

Fall / Winter 2012

Oh my. It seems to have been another long while since I updated the website. I still blame the PhD, although I’ve added some teaching responsibilities as well, so in fairness, it is, perhaps, the combination. You will, I hope, be pleased to note that I have not been so remiss in my book writing. Pairs & Artichoke Hearts is nearing completion and I expect to begin marketing it to publishers by the spring. If you want to read more about it, please go to the Works in Progress page, and my entry into The Next Big Thing!

In spite of the favourable tone of last fall’s post, I’ve reverted. I’m still working on the apartment, and hope to get back to working on it more seriously over the winter holidays. And I’ve returned to my cave; I’m only venturing out when necessary. Looking forward to a long and productive hibernation as winter’s chill sets in. On a brighter note, I’ve returned to cooking, creating vast quantities of hearty soups and chili to stave off the cold. Even on nights when I don’t feel like cooking, I can go to the freezer and heat up a homemade meal, which is always pleasant (not to mention considerably less expensive and healthier than ordering take-out).

Life was moving along quite smoothly, and I was making excellent progress on my dissertation—right up until the rental car I was driving back from the cottage got T-boned by a cab in early September. I’m okay, but still on the mend, with the assistance of many alternative healthcare practitioners, lots of sleep, and gentle downtime. The cats, who were also in the car, were fine and recovered much more quickly than I have. This is an event I could have done very nicely without, an event which has caused considerable internal stir, not only physically, but also psychically. The police concurred that the accident was entirely the fault of the other driver, and yet I’m the one who suffered injury, and is still recovering more than three months later. The notion that I could be doing everything right, or at least nothing wrong, when the universe whaps me upside the head for no apparent reason, is very disconcerting.

Then events unfolded in Newtown, Connecticut these last few days. While this is one more in a long line of such tragedies, this particular one has affected me more than most, I think because it involves young children. They weren’t doing anything wrong either, and yet now they’re dead or traumatized. I know I’m looking for logic where none exists. My heart goes out to all those involved, the living and the dead. But yes, this rightly brings up the question of “the right to keep and bear arms,” the second amendment of the American Constitution, adopted, I would add, in 1791. I suspect that the gentlemen who saw to its passing would shudder at some of the ways it’s been twisted over time, as well as the “improvement” in killing power of today’s weapons over the single shot rifles they were thinking about. My mother grew up in a pioneering family towards the end of the pioneering era in the Canadian outback in the early 1900s. My grandfather had rifles; they were kept in a locked cabinet and were used to hunt food or euthanize injured or rabid animals. These are not problems most of us encounter in our comfy urban settings. In the US, to a lesser degree in Canada, and to a greater degree in some other countries, we have turned such weapons on each other. The statistics support that countries with fewer guns have many fewer firearms casualties. In spite of this, when mass shootings happen in the US, people buy even more guns. Where is this heading? Are people going to pack little Billy and Sally off to school with their respective Spiderman and Barbie lunchboxes, along with their flak jackets and handguns? Maybe a .22, something small enough for a child to handle, in black for him and pink for her? Maybe more guns isn’t the answer; maybe a more compassionate society that actually listens to the needs of its children, especially its young men and boys who are statistically more likely to respond with violence. The individual responsible for the devastating carnage in Newtown used his mother’s legally obtained and licensed assault rifle and handguns that she had purchased for self-defense. Seriously? The population of Newtown is about 27,000 and by all reports, it was a peaceable place to live and raise a family. If Americans living in such postcard perfect small towns feel so paranoid that they need military weapons in their homes, then the terrorists won a long time ago.

Maybe it’s just my perception, but it seems that all around the world, people have dug in on opposing sides and there’s no room for the middle path, no room for negotiation. I see this around the question of gun control versus the right to bear arms, but I also see it in the widening gap between rich and poor, between capitalists and environmentalists, and among fundamentalists of every stripe. It seems that if you’re not dug in on one side or the other, then you’re a victim, and no one wants to be a victim. I’m not sure when we became so ardently polarized. But it scares me and makes me very uneasy about the future.

Enough. The holidays are almost upon us. I’m done for the term. I need a break. I’m taking the train to an overnight getaway in Niagara Falls. En route, I’m stopping in St Catharine’s to visit two exhibits of work by Dennis Tourbin, my late friend and creative mentor. I’ve never seen the Falls in winter or at night, so I’m looking forward to that strange magic, in conjunction with all the kitschiness that is downtown Niagara Falls. I even snagged a Fall’s view room! Looking forward to the opportunity to reset, and hoping to begin the New Year with a new, more positive, outlook as I push towards the completion of a couple of major projects in 2013. Best wishes to all for a happy, healthy, and peaceful New Year.

© Catherine Jenkins 2012

Leave a reply

Fall 2011

Wow. It’s been a while since I updated the website, so here goes. As some of you know, I returned to school a while ago. I’m now in the fourth year of my PhD in the Communication & Culture program at Ryerson-York Universities in Toronto. I’ve completed the necessary course work with solid grades and I made it through Comprehensive Exams in one piece (barely). The formal proposal for my Dissertation has been approved by my committee and I’m about to enter into the Dissertation writing process. Additionally, I’ve been TA-ing courses, presenting conference papers and have two peer-reviewed academic book chapters pending publication. Now do you understand why it’s been a little difficult to get around to updating the website? Doing a PhD tends to take over one’s life. I’ve been working hard, but I’m also really enjoying the mental stimulation.

It’s been a challenging, and by times exhausting, few years, but I finally feel like I’m getting some balance back in my life. I experienced a major shift last spring. Although I had consciously realized the previous year that I was keeping myself far too busy, that I was in workaholic mode to ease the movement through some parts of my grief process, it was another year before I could really slow down and peel back the layers of what I’ve been doing. By last spring, I didn’t need to keep myself quite so busy and I started to re-engage with the rest of my life. It’s been quite an amazing process and has involved changes in many areas.

For starters, I’ve been working on my living-working space. I’ve discarded layers of paper, clothes and stuff. Not only does that feel good, it’s also allowed me to open the door to new things, things that are more relevant to who I am now. I’ve been repainting the entire apartment too. I now have a sunny yellow living room, a fresh green kitchen and bathroom and a light mauve office; soon I’ll have a light mauve bedroom to match. As someone commented, I painted my apartment Easter egg colours, a pleasant and refreshing contrast to the beat-up eggshell (light grey) I’ve been living in for the last fifteen years.

The changes have extended far beyond my physical space though. I’ve created the time and found the energy to re-engage with parts of my life that had lain neglected for years when other responsibilities beckoned or I was just making myself too busy. I’ve been working my way back into music through a number of routes; I’ve done some painting and photography; I’ve even found time for leisure reading. Once I emerged from my cave and started breathing more deeply again, I also re-discovered how many amazing people I am fortunate enough to have in my life. I’ve reconnected with a number of old friends thanks to new technologies (and Mark Zuckerberg), but I’m also feeling more connected to everyone in my life and finding opportunities for face-time.

I’ve also re-engaged with my own writing. I’m well into re-drafts of Pairs & Artichoke Hearts, the gender-bender romantic comedy I’ve been playing around with for a very long time but keep coming back to. It feels so good to be actively writing again! I’ve gone back to writing Sundays, cordoning off that one day each week to fully engage without distractions. I have other projects in process, so I expect to create a steady flow of new books over the next several years. If you’re reading this, thanks for keeping the faith! I’ll post occasional updates as things continue to progress.

© Catherine Jenkins 2011

Leave a reply

Winter 2008/9

Last fall, I had an incredibly strong compulsion to apply to return to school for my PhD. It was something I always knew I’d do; it was just a question of timing. I’d finally found a program that made sense to me, as well as a proposal I felt compelled to work on. Although I’d always assumed my PhD would entail work in the arts, when I sat down to give it serious consideration and write a proposal, I found myself putting forth an idea combining the work I’ve been doing since 2000 in medical communication and the care giving I’ve done for my parents these last few years. Although it was a bit of a surprise to me, it also made a lot of sense. It’s work of larger social value, but it’s also necessary personal processing, so it’s a win-win proposition.

After a lengthy wait and despite the odds, I was accepted into the Communication & Culture joint program at Ryerson-York Universities this fall. Ryerson campus in downtown Toronto is my very dynamic and happening home base. Although I was very excited to return to school and it felt really right, there was also a great deal of anxiety. I completed my MA twelve years ago and hadn’t done any classroom work for about fifteen. It’s a much larger university than Trent was. I didn’t know any of the profs and had only one contact among the students. Electronic media and computers have radically changed the academic environment and I had to learn whole new ways of researching, administering and compiling data. It was an intimidating course of action to engage with. But having survived the stresses of the last few years, nothing really scares me anymore.

Few stresses equal that of care giving. School is a very different kind of thing. While care giving is incredibly demanding physically and psycho-emotionally, it’s not particularly demanding intellectually; of course school is intellectually demanding, but lighter on the physical and psycho-emotional demands. I’d spent years in the company of geriatrics, in and out of seniors’ residences and hospitals. I felt old and tired and deeply exhausted. Back on campus, I was surrounded by youths (although some of my peers are similar in age to myself). My energy has greatly improved. I’m feeling more able and more hopeful than I have in years. On some levels it feels like a karmic readjustment, a rebalancing of energies. After having spent several years under the stress of care giving and the first nine months of 2008 recovering, I was suddenly thrust into this bright new world.

The first week of classes, I was so excited I could hardly sleep! I don’t recall ever being quite this thrilled about going back to school. But it took a good month for my brain to start functioning and making connections to previous studies. By the end of term, I felt like I was almost back on track, with hundreds of pages of theoretical reading accomplished, many small assignments and a couple of essays and seminar presentations behind me. It’s like trying to flex a muscle you know you used to have, but feeling unsure if the neurons are still firing to make it work.

So now the first term of my PhD is completed. Because it’s semestered, that means I actually have two credits toward the requirements. I haven’t received my marks yet, but am confident that I’ve passed. I’m signed up for another three credits next term and hope to accomplish the remaining two in the summer. From there, I’ll sit comprehensive exams, get my dissertation proposal approved and then research and write the dissertation itself. As a fulltime student (how weird is that?) I’m hoping to complete in the minimum time of four years. But we’ll see how it all shakes out. Although I’m pumped about engaging with this work, I’m also past the point in my life of beating myself up if I don’t quite meet a goal. And now that I’m in it, this feels incredibly right. The timing couldn’t have been better. I’m in a space where I can engage without distraction; I have research that will sustain me through the process. And I’m in a safe environment I know how to engage with at a time when I’m still feeling kind of shaky and vulnerable. School is a good place for me to regain strength and direction, while simultaneously accomplishing something of value.

After such a busy fall, in which I had very little time for my own writing, I’m hoping the winter term will be a little more manageable, allowing me to re-engage with the non-fiction manuscript, The Wisdom of Aging Gracefully. I’d like to complete it by next fall, but certainly before I begin serious work on the dissertation.

I hope you’ve all had a wonderful holiday season. My good friend, Kathy Mac (whose new poetry collection is forthcoming this spring!), was here for a visit the weekend before Christmas and helped me decorate my three-foot-tall tree on Yule eve, the Solstice. I plan to leave the decorations up until Twelfth Night, Epiphany eve. I had an orphans’ Christmas at my place; I made roast beast and friends came with some fine potluck additions. So we had food, wine and good company. It was a very relaxed, warm way to celebrate. It also means I now have enough turkey soup and stew in the freezer to last well into the next school term.

It’s been fun having the holidays at home. I’ve enjoyed visits with lots of friends, but have also had some quiet time to myself at home, or wandering through the cold, clear, bright air and snow. I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to reflect on the year that’s passed and focus on the year to come. I’m easing into what I think is going to be the wonderful year of 2009. Wishing you and yours the best of the season and a happy, healthy, prosperous and successful New Year!

Leave a reply

Winter 2008

Last fall, and without much thought, I found myself buying a train ticket to the east coast to spend the holidays with friends. Christmas 2007 was the first Christmas I’d ever spent without my parents. I wasn’t sure what to expect. A complete change of scenery seemed like a good idea.

I was able to get a roomette for the overnight portion of the journey. Apparently VIA has generally discontinued the use of this equipment, opting instead for more opulent double rooms and suites, but for those of us who travel solo, roomettes are still the best way to go when we can get them. Between freight taking precedence and the snow, all my trains and connections were late, but I really didn’t mind or care. I was prepared with my new MP3 player, a very thick book and my knitting. Yes, in the wake of losing my mother, I seem to have taken up knitting again.

My dear friend and fellow writer, Kathy Mac, met me in Moncton and drove me back to her new house in Fredericton where I was met by a flurry of dogs, as well as her husband, her Dad and her Dad’s new girlfriend. Still others joined us for the Christmas feast. Although I missed my folks, I also felt at home and part of the celebration. Much of the holidays were spent doing plenty of nothing. After the family stresses of the last several years, that was a very welcome change and relief. The dogs had to be walked every day, so that was a good excuse to get outside and get some fresh air and exercise, but other than that, we talked and read and just hung out.

After a week in New Brunswick, it was time to re-board the train and head back, but not to Toronto. I stopped en route to visit my friend Péter in Gatineau. Here again, I was met at the train station and driven home where I was met by the flurry of a singular dog. We celebrated New Year’s with additional friends and a sumptuous feast, enjoying the goofiness of ringing in 2008 with dollar-store noisemakers and glow sticks. Much of the week was spent chatting, showing each other interesting Internet finds, watching movies and just hanging out. Of course, the dog had to be walked, so again that was an excuse to get outside and get some fresh air and exercise.

After two weeks of lying about, I came home five pounds heavier, carrying additional luggage, and much to the relief of my lovely feline beasties. The trip was a real and necessary time-out for me, a chance to reset the dials of my daily life. With so much of my time and energy having gone into parental care throughout my adult life, especially these last few years, not having that pull takes some time to get used to. While it’s liberating, it’s also kind of strange. It’s a major life adjustment that I’m still settling into. Although I’m getting a lot more writing done, I don’t yet know how to fill all this time.

While many Torontonians have been griping about this winter, with its snow and wind and cold, I’ve actually been enjoying it. This is a real winter, a real Canadian winter, at a time when we’ve become complacent about what that entails. But come on people, we live in Canada! We do get winter! Frankly, I’d rather have this than the messy, slushy overcast we usually get. This winter, it’s beautiful to look out the window. It’s a celebration of light. And while I’m hibernating perhaps even more than usual, it’s easier to take when I can look out at something joyous.

I am very fortunate to have good friends, people who understand me and are unquestioningly supportive; people I try to be there for when they need me too. I’m grateful that I was able to spend time in the homes of good friends through what might have been a rough couple of weeks otherwise. As the years continue, I’m sure I’ll come up with new and different ways to negotiate this season, but we certainly got it off to a fine beginning.

© Catherine Jenkins 2008

Leave a reply

Fall 2008

When I was a kid, my Mum returned to her agricultural roots and got into natural foods. She went back to making jam and jelly, pickles and home canning. What that meant was that when the strawberries were ripe in the fields, some of us would go and pick them at a pick-your-own berry farm. Then some of us would help her make jam and freeze individual bags of berries for the winter. She’d make strawberry parfait for desert at Christmas dinner; nothing tastes quite as magical as a fresh strawberry when the snow is on the ground. Throughout the summer and fall, we’d take trips to the Peterborough Farmers’ Market to buy various kinds of produce that she’d store in the cold cellar in the basement, freeze, can or pickle.

I too have developed the habit of preserving the summer and fall bounty, putting food away when it’s in season so I don’t have to buy expensive imports in the winter. I’ve made jams and pickles. I’ve canned (which is to say bottled) peaches, plums and apricots. I’ve frozen blueberries, strawberries and cherries. And I’ve done other experiments, some of which weren’t successful. I feel like I’ve got it down to a science now. I know how to process things for the best results for my taste.

One of the things my mother taught me was to buy locally. That was part of the reason for going to the Farmer’s Market. These were Peterborough area farmers. By buying directly from them, we were supporting local farmers and the local economy. It also meant we were cutting out the middleman retailer and that meant saving money. You could buy produce that was fresher and for a lower price than you could in the supermarket. And although we weren’t thinking about it then, it also meant that the produce was only driven a few miles, minimizing pollution and the cost of transportation.

But things are different now and in the big city. If you time it right, at the peak of the growing season, usually you can find baskets of locally grown produce at the grocery store at a reasonable price. I don’t know what happened this year. When I went to buy strawberries, the first local crop I look for, I discovered that I could buy Californian, even Californian organic strawberries, at the grocery store for considerably less than I could buy locally grown. Keep in mind that gas prices are through the roof and there’s been a lot of talk about how the price of imported produce was going to skyrocket as a consequence of increasing transportation costs.

A new Farmers’ Market was established in my neighbourhood this summer. I thought, great! I’ll be able to get locally grown produce at a reasonable price. Wrong! Their prices, not just for strawberries, but for all produce, was double to triple that of the grocery stores! What gives? I sent e-mails to the Ontario Ministry of Agriculture, Greenbelt Ontario and Farmers’ Markets Ontario to see if they had an explanation. All were very supportive of my efforts to buy locally, both for economic and environmental reasons. The rise in price, they pointed out, was due to the rise in fuel costs. This still doesn’t make sense to me. Surely the rise in fuel costs would effect US growers too; surely it costs more to ship produce 3500 kilometres than 50? Taxes and wages are higher here than in the US; but hasn’t that always been the case? Why would that cause a sudden sharp increase this year?

All espoused the virtues of buying local produce because it’s fresher and mentioned that consumers are willing to spend more for freshness. One actually noted that consumer demand at Farmers’ Markets is in some cases outstripping supply. Now we’re getting somewhere. The most telling response was from the representative of Farmers’ Markets Ontario, the people who sponsor this new local market. He stated that they “rely on freshness and the ‘market experience.'” Ah, now we have it. We’re not in small-town, rural Peterborough anymore; we’re in the big city where people have more money. We can charge a little extra because city folks are happy to pay for the experience, although a few booths in a downtown parking lot isn’t the market experience I remember. He stated that their farmers work really hard; I’m certainly not disputing that, but so do farmers everywhere. Farming, even with expensive gas-run machinery, means long hours and enormous physical demand. He also cited that some of their farmers drive 200 kilometres or more and this means their profits are very low. Wait a minute, 200 kilometres? I though I was buying local produce. While that’s closer than California, it’s also further than the 100-mile diet suggests (it’s about 125 miles).

I kept looking for a place where I could buy locally grown produce at reasonable prices. And I finally found it. I discovered a small family run green grocer several blocks away. Here, I can buy local produce at the kind of prices I think it should be and considerably less than either the grocery store chains or the new neighbourhood Farmers’ Market. How is this possible? I figure this small store is selling everything at its regular mark-up and they must be making a profit. They’ve been there for years, first as an Italian family run business, now as a Korean family run business. So what’s the difference? They’re not responding to the hype. It’s become fashionable and politically correct to buy local, to support local farmers, to buy products that haven’t done so much environmental damage through transportation. I figure big chain grocery stores and now the Farmers’ Markets are cashing in on this trend by increasing their profits. It’s the only reason I can see for the disparity in price.

Some of us have been buying locally and consciously for years. Now that it’s become fashionable, it’s harder to continue this practice. The only way a green revolution will work is if it’s affordable for everyone, not just the elite with deep enough pockets. So yes, buy local, buy green, but don’t do so blindly. Look for reasonable prices too. Support the small mom-and-pop green grocers. That’s the only way the chain stores and Farmers’ Markets will get the message that although we want to buy green and support local, it also has to be affordable.

© Catherine Jenkins 2008

Leave a reply