A TALL TALE-TELLER, BYPASSED

Many years ago, when I was young, I met a man.  Very gorgeous he was - a tall, blond Swede transported to Canada, and fitting in nicely, with a spot on a paneled television show, his own business of antiques he collected and sold in a downtown shop, plus his career of racing and collecting cars.  A bright and interesting light on the male scene - and he was interested in me, what a surprise.  I was smitten, and a willing victim to his charm.  He lived in an old Victorian house in Cabbagetown, in the east end of Toronto, (later bought by Lorne Michaels just before he went off to New York city and started Saturday Night Live).  It was around the corner from where I and my 3-year-old son shared a house with two of my co-workers.

Besides being beautiful and intelligent, he was unfortunately a big, fat liar. He wooed me, told me he loved me; gave me a key to his house.  I used it one night - all unplanned (the fateful surprise visit). When he wasn't home, I waited; amused myself reading perhaps; then as the hours passed, I finally got into his bed and waited more.  By two AM, when he still wasn't home, I opened the drawer of a night table out of boredom - and found a letter he was writing to his former lover.  Full of love and longing, he was, wanting to be with her, to get back together.  A touching tale.

I left then, my trust destroyed, my pride keeping me away from him for a while, but that was followed by the usual after-period of on-again, off-again attempts to fix things.  It never worked.  he kept lying, trying to convince himself, perhaps, and it was a doomed relationship, and a painful growing for me, over a long time, until I finally smartened up and decided to write to his old girlfriend, who by that time had heard about me.  She responded to my letter eagerly, a very lively woman with many artistic talents, and we traded missives and stories often, by-passing the silly man, and enjoying a new friendship.  She was a fun spirit; I could see why he liked her, and also why she was done with him.  (I had also received a phone call once from his ex-wife, who had re-married, warning me against him).

Eventually, my new friend invited me and my son to visit her in the country, and we did so, and repeated the experience on other occasions.  On one of our trips to her house, shared with her new man, her sister, and her mother, she drew this portrait (below) of me.  I found it last year and framed it, only noticing as I did so, that the date of the framing was forty-two years to the day from when she had done the work.  This young me gazes out from my wall now, and silently challenges me daily: "Well, what are you making of yourself?  What have you learned/accomplished/offered/created lately?"  The young, naive me that I was looks much more knowing and confident that I felt then, and I must assume that Sybil, the artist, ex-lover of my ex-lover, saw and captured a different, future me. Wherever she is now, I thank her for this reminder of those days, pain and fun, and all, and for her example to me of an independent, fully-alive woman.

RAINING AND REIGNING

It is raining big time, and the whole county is grateful - having had a total fire ban because of the dry conditions.  Here are some photos of my new abode:

looking out towards the lake across the road (when the blind is up)

le sofa & the old milking stool

looking across bar into kitchen area

painting of Muskoka by my great-uncle (of the Gill family)

the music/writing/reading room; MacDonald lassie presiding

come sit by the fire, dear - real wood & fake electric both 

the bluebird of happiness in the bathroom window

And here's the reigning seniors' cribbage champion of Alberta, here in Ontario to whup them Eastern asses, and take the crown for the country. She visited with daughter Cheryl the other day.

Donna, the queen of cribbage

My good friend Cheryl

and lastly - myself at my lovely old home (I used to call it Derry Dell in honour of my Irish studies.  It was shortened to Derry but now I call it Derriery, since it is behind me, in the picture, and in real life.
Photo taken by Phoebe on my last day there - coincidentally the same day as I bought the land back in 1988:

here's the last annual autumn dance outside my Derriery home, but stay tuned for this year's fling at the new location:

A SUMMER TO REMEMBER & SINGING IN THE PARK

Why, you arsk?
Just been crazy busy, and full of changes, and saying good-bye to things and places, and oh yes, a lot of heavy lifting.

so last post had the organ going to its new home; next was the old cast iron stove on its way.  some pics - rob and bob after loading, 'miss canada' ready to roll, and there she goes, rolling down the lane.
PICTURES OF OUR GIG AT HALIBURTON'S HEAD LAKE PARK ARE BELOW THESE:

and here are some of the haliburton head lake park gig.  the band, and the women's chorus before the performance,  a couple of shots of us in action; the audience on the lawn in the sunset; then meself in the bar after it was all over:

laurel, wil, zoe, darla, jacquie

ian, john, paul, gregg

finally, here's a shot of my new home with brother paul visiting.  teeny bedroom, teenier bathroom, but the TV is tres big.

MUSIC THAT MOVES

It's all part of the farewell process - farewell to my home of the last 26 years; to all the memories and mementoes scattered around on walls and tables; farewell to the lovely quiet and solitude (whoops!! little typo there - I wrote soliturde - heh heh.  what say you, Herr Freud? Is it all just crap?)

Among all the pictures and objects that tell so many stories, is my beautiful harmonium - the pump organ that i've had for lo, these 40 years or so.  You can't take it with you, right? and i just can't take it at all anymore - too heavy, too big for a smaller space.  But finding a loving home for it was a long journey that happily, I can say is now over.  A good, singing friend who also happens to play the organ fell in love with its fine wood and carvings and rich sound. 
we did it last Sunday (i got it to the door by myself, and then four big guys took over for the transfer to the pick-up truck).  So, really, we, including my singer friend.

some pictures:
Me, giving a goodbye hug;

 me being sad to see it go;

 guido, visiting from holland, giving the move the thumb's up;

it's out of the house; now what do we do?

the proud new owners - wil and jacques

 a creative moment - moi and guido and the great outdoors reflected

 dennis giving instructions

 first hoist

 first turn and onto the planks to the truck

 poosha poosh

 poosh a little bitta more

 that's-a nice now- jacques, frank, zoe, guido

 dennis and zoe

 wil and her new baby

 

 

THE END AND NEW BEGINNING.  TUTTO BENE.

LE JAZZ 2016

Yes, the Toronto Downtown Jazz Festival was here again, and we were playing at Gate 403.
Here are a few pics of the band with John Deehan on sax, Jason Agouris, piano, and Tony Laviola on bass.  Moi, je chante, comme toujours.

HOLY END OF JUNE!

Well, I have been busy.
but very suddenly, a gig came up:
Sat. June 25 9pm
Gate 403 in Toronto, on Roncesvalles ave.  #403, of course.

come on out, and i'll try to get some fun pics up later

SPRING FERVOUR

I have to admit, i've been lax..... first, i was away, and of course, google makes it impossible to get into accounts unless you have a mobile, or texting, or something of that fancy sort - i have none of it, so i simply ignore the blog.
then i got sick, cough cough.  and sort of lost interest in a lot of things.  but here i am; and here is spring, finally, and we're revving up.  sort of.
got a private gig on the weekend, and then a little hiatus while i get a house move organized - a horrible task, but unavoidable.
i will be posting again, ......just building up....