Monday Meander - June 29, 2020

Report from the blankie fort - Week 16

It's going to be a hot one not just today but all week and into the next week. So say the prophets of weather. I'm thinking of changing my wake/sleep times making them both earlier by ninety minutes. This would give me time to complete the outdoor garden/yard chores by mid-morning. Of course, I've not consulted my body clock about this. I expect there will be some protest that will ease over the course of a week before the bod fully settles into the new routine which I then predict will coincide with the end of the heat.

But enough with this lament on the weather. This week is Canada Week! The highpoint of the celebrations coming smack dab in the middle, on Wednesday. Courtesy of CoVID19, celebrations everywhere are curtailed or canceled and as much of a downer this is, however disappointing it may be, there is still so much to celebrate.

I am humbly grateful to have my home on a piece of land in Canada.  

I am keenly aware of the debt I owe to the original keepers of this land.

I acknowledge the Anishinabewaki ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᐗᑭ, Huron-Wendat, and Haudenosaunee.

I also acknowledge the Chippewas of Georgina Island First Nation as my close neighbour.

I recognize the contributions that have been made by the Métis, Inuit, and other Indigenous Peoples

in shaping and strengthening our communities.

I thank all the generations of people who have taken care of this land for thousands of years.

Miigwech.

On July 1, 1960, John Diefenbaker, Canada's 13th Prime Minister, introduced the Canadian Bill of Rights in Parliament with these words:

"I am a Canadian!

Free to speak without fear,

Free to worship in my own way,

Free to stand for what I think right,

Free to oppose what I believe wrong,

Free to choose those who shall govern my country.

This heritage of freedom I pledge to uphold for myself and mankind."

I'm thrilled and proud to be a part of the colourful mosaic that is my home and native land. We're not perfect, not by a long shot. We've got critical issues that need our time and attention. We are fighting a pandemic. We are rallying against systemic racism. All at a 2m distance and often while wearing a face mask. But 2m is not a world apart, it's a hockey stick that we can hold together. A mask is not a muzzle, it's a sign of care and concern for others as well as ourselves.

I pledge this week to shake off any scales of cynicism that during these pandemic days have sometimes clouded my vision. I pledge this week to dismiss any complaint that arises in my soul, in my heart or just in my head. I pledge to rise above the disappointments that come my way. This week, Canada Week, I pledge to be mindful of the great privilege of living in this nation and to enjoy and celebrate my home and native land.

Happy Canada Day

All Week-Long! 

©2020 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - June 25, 2020

My First 100 Days

On Tuesday, March 10, 2020, I went to the gym for my usual workout with the personal trainer, I then went to Costco. With rumours of a pandemic shutdown to come, I did a major food shop. I recall being quite shocked at the bill when I checked out, but there was a lot of pork, chicken, fish, and cheese in my cart along with several bags of frozen veg. I did not buy any toilet tissue nor bottled water, though Costco had umpteen pallets of both.

March 10, 2020

After Costco, I hopped over to Michael's to get some ideas for Easter decorations. I thought these baskets looked cute but I didn't buy because Easter was still a month away. That was a mistake

I met a friend and colleague for a lovely Spanish lunch. We talked business and family as we noshed on delicious tapas. And we hugged as we went on our separate ways, he back to the office, me back home. Two days later the provincial government announced that schools would be closed until April 5. March 16 was my first Monday Meander with a Report from the blankie fort and on March 17 the province declared a state of emergency. Soon after, the bears appeared in the sunroom windows.

Well, here we are nearing the end of June. Schools are still closed and will remain so until September. The state of emergency has been extended to July 15, and I wouldn't be surprised if it were extended beyond that. The bears are still on station in the window with the addition of a rabbit who wears a mask.

These days, restrictions are loosening. Last week I was able to return to the gym for my training session, but only the thirty-minute session, no pre or post-cardio, no walk-in when I feel like it, by appointment only. We can gather in a bubble of up to ten people, but as I noted in my blog of June 15, it's complicated. Both the man and I got much-needed haircuts this week. Woot! Woot! We can go shopping more frequently, but we'll both wear masks thank you! And if we wanted we could enjoy a meal at a restaurant patio (ie outdoors and tables space 2m apart). 

I struggle less with digital meetings, but they remain very stressful. I am going out shopping a little more frequently. Goodness, I even had to gas up the car for the first time since the end of March! But, I remain very cautious about when and where I go. I am vigilant about how close people are around me and for how long. When inside any store, I wear a mask and if I can't keep 2m distance from others when outside, I'll wear a mask too, while also making good my escape from the crowd. I've got plenty of soap for home and sanitizer when out. And I still don't need reams of toilet tissue. I especially don't need any bottled water! Wine? YES! And chocolate and coffee too, please.

AT day 100, I am still anxious when I go out and ever so relieved to get back home. There are days when I think, "Gee girl, you're really rockin' this isolation business" and days when I wonder how I can go on. There are days when I'm running on a very short fuse with anger bubbling from every pore and then there are days when all is calm, all is bright. Most days I'm straddling a teeter-totter trying to maintain some kind of dynamic balance between contentment and worry, sweetness and terror, hope and despair. It's not exactly fun, but I've learned that it is doable.

For now,  I will continue practicing "Together Apart" though a slightly modified, and slightly less restrictive version and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

Be safe. Be well.

Keep your distance.

Wear a mask.

KEEP WASHING YOUR HANDS

©2020 April Hoeller

Monday Meander - June 22, 2020

Report from the blankie fort - Week 15

"Good morning, Pooh Bear," said Eeyore gloomily. "If it is a good morning," he said. "Which I doubt," said he.

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it."

"Can't all what?" said Pooh, rubbing his nose.

"Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush. I'm not complaining, but there it is."  

A. A. Milne

I'm having a kind of Eeyore day today. No Gaiety. No song and dance. Just glum and uninspired. No matter. Writing a blogpost always gives me a lift. But today, Blogger wasn't allowing me to upload any photos. There ensued a half-hour cycle of reboots, expletives, cache-clearing, expletives, and doing everything but waving a rubber chicken over my head. Oh bother!

Reverting to the "legacy" version finally proved successful, but now I'm in such a snit, that backwash of in-the-moment frustration, that any creativity on my part has been sucked up into a vortex of negativity. Oh, I'm energized now, but it's not the good stuff. It's the pot-banging, teeth-gnashing, head-banging, tearing-my-hair-out mess. And it's too bloody hot and humid outside to go for powerwalk or dig up the garden.

It's probably a good thing for me to be socially isolated today! Think of how many people I have spared from insult and injury. The mind boggles. It really doesn't take much these days to boggle, frustrate, or confuse me. The good news is that it also doesn't take much to tease a smile, coax a giggle, and ease my furrowed brow.

Or as my buddy Eeyore said,

“A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, 

makes all the difference.”

Make it a good week. Stay safe.

Be kind, and include yourself at least once in that kindness.

Smile.

©2020 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - June 18, 2020

Remembering Dad

In 1914, 30% of households had a telephone and 20% had electricity; less than 20% had a cooking stove and less than 10% had a car. The crackle of radios, the hum of refrigerators, and the gurgle of clothes washers had yet to enter homes. Jim and Ella Cudbird of Carlaw Avenue in Toronto welcomed a son into this world on December 4, 1914. They named him Beverley Swann Vassar Cudbird.

Dad with his Mum - Spring/Summer 1915

Dad's First Day at School - Sept. 1919

His eyes were on the clouds and stars as he went on to university. Meteorology won over astronomy and so began his career as a weatherman.

Trinity College, U of T 1937

He married his "American Beauty" in November 1944 then swept her off to Newfoundland, where he was posted during WWII. 

After the war, they lived in Ottawa for a time where, in 1947, their first daughter was born. The 1950s saw the family settling in the Toronto suburb of Etobicoke. Two more daughters were born, me in 1953 and my younger sister in 1959.

Dad's Girls - 1962

Dad's career progressed at great speed as computers began to appear. He was a key figure in the development of weather data processing techniques. In the 1960s that expertise took him to Nigeria to assist in that country's entry into the digitizing of weather data. For this work, the federal government awarded him the Canadian Centennial Medal in 1967 for having provided valuable service to the country. My wedding in 1975 offered the perfect opportunity to wear the medal.

A cancer diagnosis in the late 1970s did not stop Dad from doing what he loved - forecasting the weather. He retired from Environment Canada and became the staff meteorologist for radio station CFRB. I like to think he pioneered that media role. Of course, radio has some definite advantages over TV; presenters don't have to worry about what they're wearing, and as in my Dad's case, one doesn't even have to be in the studio. Most of Dad's broadcasts came from the upstairs den in my parents' condo in Etobicoke. If you listened carefully to some of those broadcasts you could hear the chattering of the two teletype machines that spewed out the latest observations and forecasts on reams of newsprint paper.

Dad inspired my love of photography. He began with 35mm slides to which in the sixties, an 8mm movie camera was added along with a "portable" tape recorder, all of which were slung over and around his shoulders throughout the family trip to Europe in 1964.

Dad also loved Dixieland Jazz, Willie Nelson, and military brass bands, especially the Coldstream Guards. Broomstick in hand (instead of a rifle), he marched around the living room often with his daughters following in behind. Sometimes he added a deliberate and exaggerated limp to his step.

He loved the New York Mets but was happy to embrace the Toronto Blue Jays - as long as the Mets weren't in town!

Happy Father's Day, Dad! 

I posted this a year ago and I repeated it here today because I just saw Dad this morning as I was tending the garden. I was talking to the plants as I do, when I heard his voice over my shoulder. He too was talking to the plants, noting how the tomatoes were coming along, and then he started whistling a very familiar tune which soon we were singing together, "There'll Be Blue Birds Over the White Cliffs of Dover." Then we rolled right into, "We'll Meet Again." And then he was gone. I suspect he caught a glimpse of Dame Very Lynn's arrival in heavenly realms.  I can imagine him taking my mother's arm, "Come on Irene, let's go say hello." And off they walk hand in hand, singing together. 

Bless their hearts.

©2020 April Hoeller

Monday Meander - June 15, 2020

Report from the blankie fort - Week 14

The sun is shining, 

The sky is blue. 

What more could one ask

Except "How are you?" 

I got that from the bears this morning. Or perhaps it was the rabbit, the new kid at the window and the only one wearing a mask as one ought in such close quarters. I don't think he heard about the bubbles.

On Friday, we here in Ontario were told by our provincial and public health leaders that we could now gather in bubbles of ten. No, not ten bubbles, just one with ten people and we could be up close and personal inside our bubble, hugging and even kissing! Imagine that? 

But it's complicated, like everything else CoVID19 related. I can have up to ten people in my bubble, the same ten people every time. No swapping in and out. And I can only have ONE and only one bubble. There can't be a weekday bubble and weekend bubble, a Sunday bubble and a Friday bubble. 

Here are the official rules (note: it was bubbles, but officially now it's circles!) 

Start with your current circle: the people you live with or who regularly come into your household. 

Step 2: If your current circle is under 10 people, you can add members to your circle, including another household, family members or friends. 

Step 3: Get agreement from everyone that they will join the circle. 

Step 4: Keep your social circle safe. Maintain physical distancing with anyone outside of your circle. 

Step 5: Be true to your social circle. No one should be part of more than one circle.

But even the rules have instructions. Here they are: https://www.ontario.ca/page/create-social-circle-during-covid-19

The message is clear: DON'T PLAY WITH THE BUBBLES! 

 

But, I can still play in my garden, shoring up, cleaning up, and dressing up, 

all while enjoying the fresh air, butterflies...

...and visits from Daffodil the duck.

 

Stay safe. 

Be well.

May your bubble be strong.

©2020 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - June 11, 2020

Today is one of those intensely refreshing days - very breezy, with a mix of sun and cloud, and invigorating temperatures. Some folks I know would say it's "Cold." But I love this kind of thunderstorm cleansed morning-after. 

When I was a child, I hated thunderstorms; they scared the living daylights out of me, especially the night time ones. Lightning lit up my bedroom, casting scary shadows across the walls. But the thunder was worse. Those ear-splitting, room-shaking, gut vibrating booms were beyond my worst nightmare.

I recall lying in my dark bedroom, hands cupped close to my ears. A flash of lightning gave life to the shadows and I began a countdown, my small voice quavering in the dark, "One and one thousand, two and one thousand, three and one thousand, four and one thousand..." until the crash of thunder stopped the count. Each group of four in the countdown, that is every four seconds, between lightning seen and thunder heard measured one mile of distance to the storm centre, or so my Dad the weatherman said.

As the number of seconds between flash and bang decreased, fear increased - exponentially. I never cried out - at least not that I remember. I took it to be a badge of courage to make it through the storm (there's got to be a morning after?). Instead, I counted and shuddered, and counted and moaned, and counted and whimpered, drenched in sweat under blankets and pillow. Truly, the end of the world was at hand.

These days, I'm not so terrified of thunderstorms. In fact, I love a good thunder boomer, a ringtail snorter of a rang dang doo, as the character Charlie Farquharson would have described it. Nothing can beat that rambunctious, flashy splash of refreshment. Honesty demands that I confess to a few vestiges of thunderstorm terror in the dark hours.

A low rumble in the distance rouses me. A flash of light dances around the room and the familiar countdown sequence so deeply imprinted on my being begins again. My gut clenches involuntarily in memory of stormy nights past. Most often I just roll over and fall back to sleep but every once in a while the storm is big enough, flashy enough, noisy enough to fully waken the old fear machine.

I tug the pillow tightly around my ears, stretch out my leg until toes touch a sleeping husband for reassurance that I am not alone. In the darkness, a whimper is heard. Surely not I? Hot panting breath hits my not quite buried face, then a cold nose nudges my cheek followed by a heavy paw on my arm.

"Just thought you should know mummy," seventy-five pounds of hyper-vigilant canine warns, "truly, the end of the world is at hand."

Well, the world did not end and in my neighbourhood we did not even get the super-soaking we needed (a mere15mm  or just over half an inch delivered in a few gushes), nor the high winds (which we didn't need anyway). Thunder did rumble and roll from time to time but nothing house-shaking nor ear-splitting. While it may not have been the ringtail snorter that excited forecasters gushed about, this bog-standard summer thunderstorm still delivered on fresh air - renewing the land along with my heart and soul. It is a good day to renew, restore, refresh.

Still together though apart.

Take Care.

Be well.

©2020 April Hoeller

Monday Meander - June 8, 2020

Report from the blankie fort - Week 13

Today rounds out a glorious trilogy of perfect summer days - windows wide open days blessed by sunshine, warm temperatures but not hot, very low humidity, gentle breezes, and cool nights perfect for sleeping. Perfect days for extended time in the yard outside the blankie fort.

I had the best weekend I've had in months!  I did not step outside my property boundaries. The only people I saw, other than my husband were neighbours saying hello as they walked by. It was just me and the garden. I got my hands good and dirty in the cool earth planting tomatoes, basil, cilantro, and parsley in the stacked planter and sweet William in the big tub at the end of the drive.

I hauled out the old brick edging that I'd laid down some fifteen years ago and replaced it with edging made from recycled car tires. 

Before: (taken at Easter time)

After: 

I took apart and re-built the rock & shell garden.

Before:

 

After:

 

I chatted with the wildlife as I worked. 

With apologies to Dr. Suess,

It came without parties. It came without people. 

It came without concerts, plays, or parades. 

And I puzzled and puzzled 'till my puzzler was sore.

How could it be that the old curmudgeon found so much to adore?   

Simply because I and I alone accomplished a visible change in my environment. There is now something outside my door that I can point to and say, "See, I did that! I made a difference."

So many times during these pandemic weeks of isolation and angst I have been plagued by a sense of uselessness, a feeling that I'm doing little more than treading water. In the early weeks that was good enough, but as the state of emergency kept being extended, treading water was not nearly good enough at all. Too often I found myself drowning in an empty self-esteem bucket. Well, that bucket is overflowing today with more than enough self-confidence to get through at least another week, and even more. 

It is still good to live in this fine and pleasant land pandemic restrictions and all. It's far from perfect, there is much work to be done, many wrongs to be righted, but it is good enough for me right now to make a difference in the world between my front door and the road.

Keep on keeping on. Stay safe. Stay sane.

Be well!

©2020 April Hoeller