Category Archives: Social Commentary

One Mind Band Reunion!

“We’re getting the band back together. Really.” That was the message I got from Ian in April. (Where would we be without The Blues Brothers and Face Book?) One Mind hadn’t played together in (gulp) 28 years! A gig was booked at the Hunter Street Caribbean Festival, a Jamaica Self-Help fundraiser in Peterborough, and most of the other band members had already been tracked down; some of the guys were travelling from Bermuda and Calgary, as well as Peterborough and Toronto. In spite of a certain trepidation (When was the last time I played on stage? When was the last time I even played?) I jumped at the chance. The idea was to keep it simple, make it fun. Dub-reggae with two basses was definitely going to be fun!

Ian and me together gives a whole new meaning to double bass. Rob on the kit in the background. Special thank to Loren for most of these photos!

I’ve been a closeted musician for years now, essentially since I left Peterborough. With the impending gig, I pulled out my bass and my flute, and started trying to sing again. I discovered that I’d forgotten how to tune a guitar. My fingers were stiff and clumsy, with nothing of the speed I remembered having. To my surprise, I got sound out of my flute on the first try! I practiced a little each day and everything started to come back, kind of like opening the lid on a past life.

With eight of us scattered across Canada and beyond, the reunion proved to be a positive test of technology. Ian posted a bunch of old songs online, and after I figured out how to digitize my wonky old cassette tapes, I posted a few more. We’d never written anything down; it was all done by ear, so having and sharing the recordings was essential. We voted on our favourites and came up with a set list. Old-school reggae never gets old and Chet’s poetry is still surprisingly relevant. While it’s good that the words aren’t particularly dated, it shows how few social injustices and inequalities have been addressed in all this time.

Chet on lead vocals at the Toronto gig. Parts of John and Rob in the background.

The week before the gig, those of us in Toronto got together for a half-band practice. Ian and I doubled up on bass, with me also doing a bit of flute and vocals, and Ian sometimes playing with percussion toys. Rico pulled out his percussion instruments, and John, who’d just flown in from Bermuda with some rum, supplied guitar chops. And yeah, we did practice, but some of us hadn’t seen each other in decades, so it was also a chance to catch up on life. Then we trekked up to Peterborough to join the rest of the band for two more rehearsals. Rob, the only one of us still gigging regularly, has been playing guitar with Dub Trinity, a fabulous Peterborough-based ska band. Chet, our intrepid lead vocalist, has recorded four CDs in the last few years, continuing to write politically charged lyrics addressing existing and new political situations. Tim, joining Rico on percussion, flew in from Calgary, and so did David, complete with his keyboard in a substantial travel case. (There was some conjecture that perhaps some of the smaller band members, i.e., me, might be transported safely to out-of-country gigs in a such a travel case.) Rob negotiated rehearsal space for us at Artspace and the set came together surprisingly smoothly.

August 1, I came in from the cottage early to check out my old stomping ground of Peterborough. They’d closed the street between George and Water for the Festival, making way for vendor and food tents, as well as the stage, and people were beginning to drift in. The guys started to arrive, several with partners and kids. There was entertainment throughout the late afternoon and evening, with One Mind taking the stage at 7:45.

Me belting out lead vocals on one number. David on keys.

Was it perfect? Well, no. Was it fun? Hell yeah!! We had a great time and had overwhelmingly positive feedback. We saw people we hadn’t seen in decades. Part of the magic of reggae is that even when the message is critical, the music makes you move. A cluster of little kids danced in front of the stage and Ian’s Mum, in her 80s, was there, dancing and smoking in front of her chair, a little smile on her face. When I tried to introduce myself to her later, she said, “I know exactly who you are!” She actually remembered me, which was a surprise. Dub Trinity came on right after us, so Rob immediately switched from the drum kit to his guitar, something he said was a bit of a relief. We get used to doing what we’re doing now and it’s challenging to try something one hasn’t done in a long time. Eventually, we all ended up at Rob and Sarah’s seated around the table in their backyard, talking well into the night.

The next day, we all made our way to Toronto, for the second, more intimate gig, in Patti’s garage. Rico and his partner William hosted another barbeque (the first was at Rob and Sarah’s on one of the rehearsal nights) and so, yeah, we were definitely running on Caribbean time for set up! It was a smaller audience, again with some family, some folks who drove down from Peterborough and some Toronto friends.

From left to right, me, Ian, Rico and Tim at the Toronto gig.

Rico’s Mum commented afterwards: “What a wonderful group of people you all are and you all looked happy playing music. You are all good people and good friends.” No one wanted it to end, the goodbyes hanging on. People said their goodnights, but only made it as far as the walkway. I kept thinking of the little character at the end of Just for Laughs who cries, “Mommy, it’s over!”

I woke up at five the next morning, around the time a couple of the guys would’ve been leaving for the airport to head to their respective homes. One Mind indeed. And now I’ve had a couple weeks to reflect on something so special that it’s difficult to articulate. As Rob noted, there wasn’t any of the “back in the good old days” which sometimes pervades reunions; maybe because we’re all feeling pretty happy in our lives, “these are the good old days” (to quote Carly Simon). When Tim told me “You look exactly the same!” I said thanks, then suggested that he’d better not look too closely, but essentially, we do all look pretty much the same—except for Rico, who looks even better! David noted that none of us have gained weight; in fact, in spite of a few accidents, a couple considerably more catastrophic than mine last fall, we’re all in pretty good shape.

From left to right, John, Chet, David, Rico and Rob enjoying the barbeque before the Toronto gig.

I love these guys. I feel really fortunate to have been part of this band, then and now. This feels like a reconnection, a lost link regained. Amazing how quickly the connections come back together, how fast we were back in synch; only a couple of full band rehearsals and we were reading each other like old paperbacks. This is the way people play together, through the transmission of body cues, even if most of us haven’t played with anyone in years. And getting back together again supercharged a creative energy in me that had been running kind of low. After trying for several years, I’m finally back into the music. It revealed some things to me about my youth, about how, in spite of some external criticisms, I was on a positive path. We’ve all made it to middle age with most of our youthful ideals, ethics and humour intact. I mean sure, we’ve grown up, most are happily partnered, some with kids, most have bought houses and cars, and some have lost parents, but all of us seem to have settled into lives we enjoy, doing things we value and feel positively about. There’s no sense of resignation common to middle age, no jaded cynicism. And when we play, it’s like we’re twenty-something again, with that same spirit and energy. If we’ve made it through to the middle years with our youthful hearts intact, I think we’ve got a good shot at making it into old age the same way; I think we’ll help keep each other young in all the right ways.

It was fun before, but it feels like so much more fun now. A reunion of something so positive and affirming, that no one wanted it to end. And it won’t. We’ve been sharing photos, videos and sound recordings of the gigs online (links coming!). There’s already talk about another reunion again soon, maybe in Calgary or Bermuda, where some of the other band members live. There’s talk of not waiting another 30 years until next time, or there won’t be room onstage for all eight of us with our walkers.

Thank you all. Blessed be. Safe journeys (“life is a journey”). One Love.

Me and the boys after the Toronto gig.

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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.

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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.

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Spring 2008

With spring comes the celebration of new life… unless you’re unfortunate enough to be part of a species being “managed” by humans. This spring, the Toronto Zoo saw fit to euthenize two healthy, newborn reindeer, males, and thus undesirable additions to the herd. Some of the zookeepers were revolted enough to blow the whistle. In the wake of a public outcry, the zoo has instead found a new home for three more male reindeer at the Bowmanville Zoo.

The Greater Vancouver Zoo saw the murder of one of its spider monkeys, a fifteen-year resident. Intruders caved in his head while kidnapping his mate. The mate has yet to be recovered.

The Calgary Zoo was forced to close its stingray exhibit when forty of a school of forty-three died in just over twenty-four hours of unknown causes. Hard on the heels of this misfortune, the Toronto Zoo opened Stingray Bay, its own interactive stingray exhibit, having taken “extra precautions for the safety of the stingrays and our visitors,” including removing the rays’ barbs, their primary defense.

Not all atrocities occur in zoos though.

I’d never even seen a cormorant until I was well into my twenties, although apparently they were quite common up at our cottage prior to the 1960s. Thanks to pesticides and bad press, cormorants were at one time an endangered species. Now, there are a couple on the lake. They’re amazing looking birds: large, black, primeval and strong. After years of protection, the cormorant is slowly returning to its former range. But not without renewed challenges.

Point Pelee Park has proposed to diminish its cormorant population on Middle Island by ninety percent. That’s not a cull; it’s a holocaust. Why? Because the presence of such a large and successful population of cormorants is adversely impacting the “ecological integrity” of the island’s fauna. Also, anglers would have you think that cormorants deprive them of sport fish. The scientific evidence shows that cormorants have little impact on sport fish populations, preferring a diet of the introduced species that have been invading our waterways and have few natural predators. The ridiculous thing is that the cormorant is a natural part of this ecosystem, but humans think that the way in which this bird fits into its own environment needs correction.

The seal hunt debate raged again this spring, with heated and emotional arguments on both sides. It’s the largest slaughter of marine animals on the planet and, to my mind, a cruel international embarrassment. The only good news I heard about it this spring, and it’s tempered good news, is that due to weather conditions, Canadian sealers only killed about half their quota.

In international news, the South African government has decided to reintroduce an elephant cull. After decades of illegal ivory trade, the elephant population was threatened, leading to a trade ban in 1989 and the subsequent protection of the species. With such protections, the population has rebounded nicely. Elephants are big animals with big appetites; they travel in herds that decimate everything in their path. Elephants like to rearrange their habitats; why should humans be the only ones? Because of the protected success of this one species, fauna and other animal populations are being threatened in some areas, so there certainly is a problem. But given that elephants are extremely intelligent, feeling, family oriented animals, controlling the population through culls, by herding them together with helicopters and hiring sharpshooters to kill them, seems incredibly inhumane, not to mention scientifically dubious. And of course, even though the trade in ivory has been suspended, that doesn’t mean it can’t be reinstated if a generous amount of ivory suddenly becomes available.

Other than humans (who are far too good at rearranging their habitat to suit themselves, generally with little regard for the environmental impact), any species left to its own devices will find its natural population. Ecosystems include prey, predators, diseases and fluctuating resources that have evolved together naturally to keep things balanced. No healthy ecosystem stagnates; it’s continuously evolving. That’s the way natural populations remained balanced for thousands of years. And it’s only taken us about one-hundred-and-fifty years to completely screw things up.

As the world’s human population closes in on seven billion, as habitats for other animals continue to decline, as current energy sources diminish, as food and fresh water stores plummet, we’re going to have to face the fact that until we find a realistic way to colonized space, we are part of a closed ecosystem. Because we have the facility to manipulate our environment, we have grown to larger numbers than the planet would otherwise sustain. But sooner or later, something’s gotta give. Will we run out of ideas for how to successfully manipulate our environment? Will we pollute our food, water and air resources to the point where we poison ourselves? Will human strife cause increased war and violence? Will we start managing and culling our own?

In New Zealand, humans had tried and failed four times to rescue a beached pygmy sperm whale and her calf. Although they were able to push the pair back into the water, a sandbar blocking the way to the ocean was disorienting them, causing them to beach repeatedly. The humans were ready to give up, preparing to euthenize the whales, when a local-area dolphin pushed herself between the rescuers and the whales, then led her cetacean relatives off the beach, through a channel and back to open water. One marine biologist commented that dolphins have “a great capacity for altruistic activities.” So, what else are we missing in our rush to dispose of the animals competing for our space?

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Fall 2007

Although perhaps more Luddite than some, I’m also more technically savvy than others. I’m part of that awkward in-between generation that didn’t grow up with much technology, but was introduced to it at an early enough age to be able to integrate it into an understanding of the world and the way things work. As such, I may be a bit reluctant to embrace new technologies, but sometimes also pleasantly wowed.

I despair that kids these days figure they don’t have to learn to write or spell or do basic math because there are machines to do these things for them. I’m not sure how they’re going to cope when the power fails. But hey, middle-aged fuddy-duddies have been wondering about the next generation since the Ancient Greeks and somehow we’re still here.

The Internet enables the spread of information-and misinformation-at previously unavailable speeds. This has opened the door to a whole new arena of enlightenment and potential frustration.

I’ve been trying to correct some misinformation that got online about my involvement with a series of books. When I’ve contacted specific offending websites requesting that they correct this information, they generally shrug and claim that it’s not their problem; their information comes from the distributor, who, of course, gets its information from the publisher, who was responsible for creating the misinformation in the first place. As an individual outside this loop, I apparently have no voice, even though it’s my name and reputation being misrepresented. Needless to say, I was forced to go a more formal route to seek resolution. Although the situation has improved, it still isn’t resolved. Why? Because misinformation replicates itself ad nauseum, just as information does, on the Internet. As Caleb Carr pointed out in Killing Time, on the Internet, there’s no differentiation between information and truth. There’s no consideration of authenticity or validity; there’s only endlessly streaming data.

Not all Internet errors are so annoying. I occasionally receive fan mail, even from radio stations, for Katherine Jenkins, the Welsh Mezzo Soprano. What I find funny is that these fans don’t realize that our names are spelled differently, so they end up on my website rather than hers. Then, even though my website is pretty obviously that of a writer, rather than a vocalist, they still go ahead and e-mail me. But hey, I’m a good person. I redirect them. If I get back to my music, things may become even more confusing. Of course, I’ve also discovered one, possibly two, other writers named Catherine Jenkins. While they seem to be in the UK, there’s still lots of room for growing confusion, thanks to the globalizing nature of the Internet.

On the plus side, the Internet has enabled me to locate numerous people I’d misplaced or even forgotten. I’ve reconnected with people from high school and my old hometown of Peterborough, people I’d lost touch with for fifteen or twenty years. E-mail allows me to stay in greater contact with friends who live at a distance. While I still write an occasional letter or make an occasional long distance phone call, this is a way of saying “hey” at the moment of that thought, with an immediacy that doesn’t have the disruptive effect of a ringing telephone. It allows people to mention the regular minutiae of a day in a way we generally don’t in letters. It’s a hybrid form of communication that supports the advantages of both telephones and letters.

Professionally, electronic media and communication have made things much easier and more efficient for me. Writing research is a whole lot simpler using the Internet-as long as one keeps a critical eye on the information source. I’ve also been able to track down and contact other professionals to request information, guidance or input into something I’m working on. The technology is great, as long as it’s used intelligently.

I’m also pleased that some literary journals are now accepting submissions via e-mail. From my perspective, that reduces the time and cost of handling, office supplies and postage. Electronic submissions are especially welcome when I’m submitting outside Canada. I gave up on International Reply Coupons some years ago; they’re expensive and I found that not everyone on the receiving end knew what they were or how to redeem them. Whenever I travel to the US or UK, I buy postage stamps, but the rates keep changing, so I still have to research current rates and figure out how to make whatever stamps I have add up. If a journal accepts electronic submissions, I don’t have to worry about return postage on my SASE. I’m currently compiling data to see if the turnaround time on electronic submissions is any faster than those sent the old-fashioned way.

So, as with most things, I can see both pros and cons. I use what works to advantage for me and critically consider the rest, accepting that the technology is here now and it’s here to stay.

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