Sunday
Aug032003
poll: relaxing
Sunday, August 3, 2003 at 5:49PM 
(re: previous entry - Thank you all so much for the supportive e-mails and the posts. They meant a great deal to me.) Outside our cottage window right now is a bird singing its heart out in an immensely complicated series of trills and chirps. I can't see it, but I'm sure it's one of those shockingly drab-looking types you wouldn't ordinarily spare a second glance. But open its beak and WHOA, sit back and be enthralled. As you can tell from today's Blatherpic, I've started up Waiting For Frodo again, sent an update notice to about 1350 people on the notification list. Poor Sam was waiting out in that snowstorm for so long all by himself, I couldn't stand it. Using the Wacom pen and tablet still feels a bit creaky, but it's so good to doodle again! Must get back to My Life in a Nutshell, too. I'm in the lake a lot these days. I swim laps back and forth in front of the dock, mostly using my legs, a styrofoam ring around my waist to give my arms a break. From time to time I'll lie back and just float with my arms outstretched and eyes closed, sky above and lake below. It's a wonderful sensation, that feeling of weightlessness and isolation from the rest of the world, just for a short time. POLL: relaxing - people or not?When you want to relax, do you tend to seek out the company of others (whether this means friends or just being part of a crowd) or prefer being alone? Noise or quiet?
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Uncategorized Sunday Aug032003
difficult memoriesSunday, August 3, 2003 at 2:06AM  Jim and Diane on their wedding day. They were killed in a car accident just over a year later, in 1993. Ten years ago this coming week, my brother Jim and his wife Diane died in a car accident. So strange to think it's been that long. In reality, ten years isn't so different from nine years, but I've still found these recent days much more difficult than I had expected. I still clearly remember getting the phone call at 1:30 a.m. Jeff answered, both of us woken by the ring. Even as he passed the receiver to me, saying that my father wanted to speak with me, I knew something was terribly wrong. Dad's voice was very calm, almost flat, when he told me that Jim and Diane were dead. As he started describing how it had happened, I remember saying "oh no" over and over again. I don't remember feeling grief, just a numbing sense of shock, profound disbelief, as if part of my brain was flatly refusing to believe what I was hearing. But I guess another part of my brain believed, because I started screaming. Jeff took the phone away from me and told my father we would call him back; Ruth was also calling him on the other line (he had just told her) to say that she was coming over. The screaming was weird; I felt as if everything was happening to somebody else, but also knew it was me. My head filled with a rushing sound like a waterfall, there was too much to hold in, too much to absorb.  Our friend Scott (the same one visiting us right now) was living with us that summer. I began throwing clothes and toiletries randomly into a bag while Jeff went downstairs to tell him what had happened. Then Jeff and I drove to my father's house. It took police about 9 hours from the time of the accident happened to investigate next of kin and then track down my father. They also contacted Diane's parents are around the same time. Before knocking on my father's front door, they checked house lights on his street to see which neighbors were still awake, knocked on their door first. I will always be grateful for this, since it meant that my father was not with complete strangers when he heard the news. After the police left, the neighbors called other neighbors. By the time Ruth and I arrived with Kaarel and Jeff, there was a pot of hot coffee in a silver urn in the living room, and other neighbors had already come by to comfort my father. The next few days went by like scenes in a movie. I felt as if I was watching someone else's life, one of those tragic news stories you see on tv and get teary-eyed over in sympathy but deep down are desperately glad that it didn't happen to you. It would be weeks before the reality of what had happened actually started to sink in.  We found out that the accident had occurred when Jim and Diane were on their way to a camping trip with friends. Witnesses say that the car drifted left onto the median shoulder of the highway, veered right and seemed to be fine for a moment, then veered left again, across the grass median, into the path of an 18 wheel truck. We've been told that my brother and his wife were killed instantly; no one else was hurt. The police located the campsite where their friends were waiting to tell them what had happened. Focusing on practical tasks helped me get through those first few weeks. I remember Ruth and I going through old family photo albums, looking for a picture of Jim in a leg cast we remembered from his childhood hockey days, so we could help the coroner identify his body since they were having trouble locating dental records. I remember how hard I worked on the obituary for the newspapers, trying to lose myself in the task of writing the best piece that I could, the best for my brother. The last line became the engraved message on their gravestone: "You will be missed more than you can possibly imagine." I don't know how Ruth and I could have gotten through it all without the support of Jeff and Kaarel. Jim and Diane left no will; Kaarel became the executor, for example, and it took many months for him to sort out the necessary paperwork to close their affairs. Jeff, accompanied by Scott, collected Jim's personal effects from the police, and also saw the car after the crash. I remember him coming home, shaken and not wanting to talk about what he had seen. Going through Jim's personal effects was another surreal experience. Most difficult item to go through: personal photos he kept in his wallet. Most disturbing item: a key bent at a 90 degree angle in the middle. One of the items that survived the accident was a grey and rust cloth bag that my mother had made, that Jim and Diane were using to store some camping gear. I currently use this bag to hold my percussion items for Urban Tapestry performances.  Jim and Ruth playing checkers at a rented cottage one summer. The funeral was a blur of tears for me, but I remember how touched I was that so many of our friends came in support. During the service, our friend Michelle Sagara read aloud a letter that Ruth and I had written:  Ruth, me and Jim. Going through Jim's and Diane's house the first time after the accident was pretty difficult. The beds were unmade, some laundry laying out to dry; everything looked as if Jim and Diane would be walking in the front door at any second. Deciding what to keep and what to throw out was agony. Things I learned from the experience (I'll likely be adding to this over the next bit): - That everyone grieves in their own way. Some people may cry all the time, others may not seem to be affected at all. There is no one right way to grieve. - NEVER EVER tell someone that they should be REJOICING that their loved ones are dead because praise the lord, they're in HEAVEN. - I found that the most difficult time was not the first few days (when I was pretty much numb from shock) but in the months after the accident, when everything was supposed to get back to "normal" but deep down I felt that it never could. - To get through really tough times, focus on little increments of time at first ("I just need to get through the next minute, just sixty seconds, focus on getting through that small amount of time), then gradually build up. - When wanting to help someone who is grieving, don't ignore the possibility of doing this by providing support indirectly. I will always be grateful to those who helped by keeping Jeff company, for example, and making sure that he took care of his own needs as well instead of focussing completely on mine. - Never assume that you'll have limitless time with someone you care about. - Embrace life fully, never take anything for granted. Also see my Song For Jim.
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Uncategorized in Admin Friday Aug012003
cottageFriday, August 1, 2003 at 2:01PM  Tom, Daniel and Anneli (Tom's sister) (click for larger image) At the cottage with our friends Scott and Anita. Wonderful weather, few bugs. My arms are well enough that I can go swimming, though I usually take a styrofoam tube with me so I have something to hang onto when I take my frequent float-breaks to rest my arms. Lots of people at the cottage yesterday afternoon when Tom West and his family came to visit at the end of a canoe trip, and Harry and Jean and Jean's mother arrived for a visit a few minutes later. Only one dial-up phone line here, so please refrain from sending me any large files, thanks. Dave Clement has a Livejournal! Please do drop by and say hi. :-) POLL: canoe trips, camping tripsHave you been on any? Did you like the experience? What trip was your favourite?  Tom and his family at the end of a 4-day canoe trip. (click for larger image)
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Uncategorized Tuesday Jul292003
poll: languagesTuesday, July 29, 2003 at 12:34PM  Erica Neely tries to convince me to bid for chocolates at the Concertino Interfilk auction. Photo by Jim Leonard. Everyone seems to how to speak more languages than I do. Like every other Canadian of my generation, I had to take French in school, but I recall very little of my lessons except being highly intimidated by the teacher, who yelled everything in French with the enthusiasm of an Army sergeant. I opted out of French as soon as I was able, and thus managed to escape the legendary ferocity of the Grade 13 French teacher, whose spittle-enhanced lectures inspired the more savvy students to sit as far from the front of the class as possible. My parents always spoke English when we were little, wanting us to fit in with the other children, but speaking in Japanese when talking privately about topics we should not be overhearing ( and of course that made Ruth, Jim and me listen that much harder, hoping to pick up enough words to understand what was going on).  Gary McGath. Photo by Jim Leonard. My mother's first language was Japanese, and her accent was strong enough that I learned a number of words and phrases as a child that I later realized were regular English, but enhanced with my mother's Japanese accent. I was also familiar with a collection of "kiddy Japlish"" words like "neh-neh time", which means bedtime. My friends Scott and Anita, who are visiting from Vienna, are both fluent in German. Andrea's husband Tom knows a zillion languages. I know a tiny smattering of Japanese and French, some useful phrases in German ("I like chocolate!") and Swedish ("My hovercraft is full of eels!") but little else.  Jodi, Allison and I perform at Concertino. Photo by Jim Leonard. What about the rest of you? What languages do you know well enough to hold a decent conversation in? What about reading and writing? What languages do you wish you knew?
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