A conversation in line today at Starbucks

I was first in line, and the man behind me came in with his wife with a child in her arms and they sat down while he stood in line. The next young man was in line immediately afterwards, and he was in his late 30’s, I guess. He asked the guy in front of him what the name was for the type of baby holder his wife was wearing, one where the baby was laying across her chest. The young man didn’t know, but made arrangements for them to meet when they all had their coffee, to talk to his wife. The guy was interested because his buddy’s wife just had a baby and he wanted to buy them a gift and didn’t know what that was called.

I chimed in, “My youngest daughter is 16, but I remember we called it a Snugli, at least I think it was called that at the time.” He asked me if it was a brand name and I didn’t know but it could have been.

They were both pleased, I had an answer and they still would meet up afterwards to check with the expert. I completely understood. We talked about it for a bit and the guy (the late 30’s one) told me his oldest was 16 as well.

I smiled and said it was my youngest who was 16, but I think I still remember. I than said, “My oldest is 47”.

No better punch line has yet been invented. I brought down the house!

A visit to the dentist.....

I went to the dentists office this morning to have a cavity filled. This is one of two I now have, and there is one basic problem. I thought cavities were for kids!

I’m too old for all this! My teeth are now decaying under crowns!

These last stages of life begin to seem all too familiar.

A few years ago I went to the dermatologist’s to look at a pimple on my face that wouldn’t go away. I assumed that the patients would all be 14-16 year olds with pimple problems, as it was when I was a kid. No way! I was the youngest person in the office except for the doctor! It was a senior’s festival!

This crap is too much for me.

I regress in age and my next act may be a trip to the urologists to see about my need for a diaper. Oh wait, I may have done that already.

Candles...definitely not a Christmas story

Editorial note: Since I posted this story five hours ago it's been bothering me. When I was young, this semeed like a very funny story. Now, given all the changes in the world and our culture, this seems very sad. Funny how your perspective can change in a lifetime.

It’s been almost fifty years, so this one was hard to find in my head, but it was so strange that I called it up from the depths.

One of my friends learned about an art material, Moulage, which is a rubber mould making substance. My understanding was it was used to duplicate antique pieces. You could, for sure, model it on human skin and make exact faces etc. You melted it in a double boiler and it was reusable, so after the initial cost it had a infinite life span. It is still available.

In the time of macramé, candles incense etc., he figured out this scheme. He would be an artist (not) and he was an artistic candle maker. He did candles of women, of their body parts. They would (yes, they did) undress and let him manipulate them into the perfect candle (wax is also reusable). He did breasts, neck and breasts and vaginal areas of these young ladies (he was young himself so it’s a bit less creepy). This was part of the grand scheme, that once undressed and manipulated, they continued the evening with him and stayed undressed and manipualted.

His entire cost outlay was reusable mould making materials and wax and he never even had to spring for dinner.

The only flaw was captured in a late night desperate phone call from him seeking help in removing (combing out) “too thinned wax” from a young lady's pubic hair.

Jim's Books

On March 17, 2009, I wrote a story called “Jim Striby was my friend”. Here’s another Jim Striby story that just came to mind.

We had traveled to Dallas, Texas in the early 70’s , most likely for the NAEA convention (National Association of Art Educators). In any case, we were in a hotel looking out, as I remember, on Dealey Plaza, the place where John Kennedy had been assassinated. This was a memorable sight as I looked out of my hotel window for the first time. However, the story is not about this.

Jim and I had never traveled together before where we shared a hotel room. It was certainly a better use of institutional funds, and was fine with me. We traveled for many years together after this and became accustomed to our own idiosyncrasies and it had always worked out well.

It was bed time that first night, and we each were in our beds reading when Jim got up to get an extra pillow, sitting at the top of the closet. He asked me if I wanted one and I declined.

While he was standing at the closet door getting the pillow, he said, “Wait a minute, what’s this?” I looked up and Jim had taken down a pile of paper backed books, at least six or seven of them. He started to look through them and than he laughed and came over to my bed. He showed me a pile of pornographic novels full of photos.

I said, “OK, here we are in a hotel room together, and you now come over to see me with a hand full of dirty pictures and want my reaction!” Jim laughed, turned red and returned to his bed explaining that he wasn’t doing that on purpose

I kept laughing, knowing it was only the circumstances we found ourselves in. Someone apparently left this pile rather than take them home.

In those days, way before the internet, this was expensive and rare junk to find. We were delighted with our treasures, and happily perused them.

When the convention was over, Jim asked me if I wanted to take the books with me. I thanked him and told him I’d split them with him.

He assured me he would not be taking them, because if the plane went down, and we were no longer, and his wife received his luggage and she found the books, she’d kill him!

Yes, I did take the books!

Remotes

There is a common belief that the most important thing most guys can hold in their hands is the remote control. I concur with this assumption, for it’s my lifeline, my friend and the one thing they have to pry out of my hand after I fall asleep. It is very important to me being.

Last week, on Friday morning, I was watching the news before leaving for work and I went to turn off the TV and the remote was gone!

I retraced my steps, I was the only one home that week, and no mater what I did the “clicker” was gone!

I walked my way very slowly through my actions that morning and checked everywhere I had been but to no avail. It was missing.

I shut off the TV with the original remote that goes with the set, but what I needed was the cable remote so I could change channels, not using the button on the set. That button would take me forever, as it’s one channel at a time and no numerical pads. Besides, it doesn’t control the cable box and the only channel I use on the set is 3.

I called the cable provider and asked if they sold the remote in their stores, and they did for $15-$20 the woman thought, but she wasn’t sure. She understood my plight and said it usually turns up in the kitchen. I had already looked in the frig, in the microwave and in the garbage.

After work I came home and tried one more time, excused myself to Max the wonder dog, and promised him I’d be right back.

I sped over to the mall, and ran through Sear’s, up the escalator, and over to the cable store. I said to the two ladies sitting quietly at 6:00 p.m., “There’s two things you can do for me, either one of you has to come home with me and help me find my remote, or one of you has to sell me a new one”. They laughed, and said, “Why buy one, you can have one”. They simply handed a new one to me and smiled, I thanked them and left.

My family immediately recognized something was wrong as it’s a slightly different model from the old one, but it’s fine. I admitted my defeat at the hands of fate and we’ve continued. Last night I noted that it’s been almost a week and it hasn’t shown up yet.

This morning I was taking out the trash and the assorted recycling items, and as I was filling a blue bag with newspapers, the old remote showed it’s head in and among the recycled newspapers.

I guess I put it in the papers and put them all away at once. Serves me right for attempting to clean up!

Great Advice from Harry's friend Bruce...

My dear friend Harry, the one from the dildo story, has on his Facebook page a message from his friend, Bruce Spear. I don’t know Bruce, but he was responding to Harry’s query about kids and their heightened fashion sense. Bruce said, “Behind every successful performer is a shopping maven -- one's True Friend, or a hairdresser/therapist.

I have it on great authority that shopping is good for the soul. My former hairdresser in Santa Cruz, always liberal with good advice, helped me with a simple calculation of costs; a decent haircut and a new, bright-colored shirt cost far less, and was likely far longer lasting, than your typical therapist paying off years of expensive training.

"Start on the outside, and work your way IN" was her motto, and of course she was right!

Above all, complete the fashion statement: don't skimp on underwear! Even if they can't see it, the kids will know: granting you infinity authority be willing to carry your bags, polish your walker ... just be sure to offer suitable rewards (offer them PEZ).”

I won the lottery!

The lottery is Canada’s biggest retirement program. The odds are 14 million to 1 you’ll hit the jackpot and be able to retire. The big difference between Canada and the US is that gambling winnings are not taxable in Canada. Since most of us can’t really afford to retire, the lottery is the golden goose.

The truth is, I seldom if ever play the lottery, but once in a while, when the fever gets high in the culture, I go for it. Often, I gather an army of coworkers and pitch in for a huge number of tickets. The truth of it is, I never win.

I was sitting home, waiting for my family to come back from New York on Saturday, when the six o’clock news told me of a lottery fever, the lottery machines were burning up the airwaves, as 42 million dollars was up for grabs. I couldn’t hold myself together, I told Max, my dog, that I’d be right back and I took myself to the local gas station to purchase five lottery tickets and an Encore (I have no idea what an Encore is, nor do most people, but I buy one anyway) and I paid $11 for the privilege.

The next day I went on the computer to look at the winning numbers. My heart races if I even hit a single number, but clearly I was doing better than that.

First prize ended up at $20,664,574 (all 6 numbers) and there were two of them. Second prize ended up at $203,962.30 (5 numbers and a Bonus) and there were 13 of them. Third prize ended up at $6,018.80 (5 numbers) and there were 413 of them. Fourth prize ended up at $223.10 (4 numbers) and there were 21,540 of them. Fifth prize ended up at $10 and there were 401,382 of them including me! There was also a $5 prize for two numbers and a bonus, and there were 276,074 of them.

I spent $11 to win $10, is this a sign? Based on this track record I will need $1000 a week to retire and I can do this if I save $1100 a week or some such mathematical equation.

However, this is my first big win! I can say without compromise, I won the lottery!

Shopping with Harry on Melrose

Many years ago Harry and I wandered Melrose Avenue, sometime, of course, in the 80’s, where most of my best stories come from.

(this next part taken from Wikipedia) Melrose, it’s most famous section, known as the Melrose District, is the West End through West Hollywood and Hollywood. The Western End, popularly referred to as Melrose Heights, runs from Santa Monica Blvd. to Fairfax Avenue and features a variety of upscale restaurants, boutiques, and salons such as Elixir (teahouse), The Bodhi Tree (metaphysical and New Age bookstore), the Dussault Motel (headquarters of Dussault Apparel, Inc.), Fred Segal, Plush Home, and The Improv (world famous comedy club.)
North of the intersection with La Cienega Boulevard is Melrose Place, a branch of the main avenue made famous thanks to the TV show of the same name. However, in actuality, Melrose Place does not feature any residences, but instead is home to a number of high-end boutiques and salons.

The eastern end of the district, which runs from Fairfax to Highland Avenue, became a popular underground and new wave shopping area in the early 1980s, featuring the opening of stores such as Vinyl Fetish and Retail Slut, both of which closed several years ago. The Burger That Ate L.A., a landmark fast food stand, was replaced with a Starbucks in recent years, and the area has witnessed an upsurge in tourism and a significant decrease of the underground and countercultural elements. The original Johnny Rockets opened in this part of Melrose in 1986. In 2005 Musician and Director Joe Hahn member of the world renowned rock band Linkin Park, opened his concept retail store SURU on the 7600 block of Melrose.

In the 80’s wandering down the street at the eastern end of the district, we wandered into a large, colorful sex shop. I usually portray myself in these pages as the bright eyed, innocent nymph, and usually I am correct. In this case, while I had never been into a sex shop before, I did know where I was. Harry, sophisticated educator, writer and musician, a Southern California native, would surely have been toughened by the mean streets, but I was wrong.

He stood there, looking around, picked up a large (the size of my arm) black, gnarly dildo, and asked, “What’s this?”

I just couldn’t stop laughing!

Hoarders has ended

The Hoarders episode ended and the floor was done. The guy arrived at 8:15 a.m. and was gone by 2:30. He removed the carpet, installed the floor, put in new quarter round moldings and was gone.

Could I have done it, sure? My already gone knees would have needed surgery, my patience would have ended and I would complete the job in a few additional days. As it was, I had to vacuum up a bit and move the furniture back in, thus ending my Hoarders routine.

When my family returns from March Break, they can move back all the boxes full of stuff, as I have no idea what it all is or why we need it.

Two weeks and it’s the carpeting in the stairway and hall that will be replaced. I have to move all of the books from the eight bookshelves in the hallway and all the Royalty Tin Collection, which sits on top of the bookshelves. This will be another massive job. Lots of the books will not be returned to the shelves. Even though we’ve moved so many times, we still have way more junk than anyone ever needs.

This is not an episode of Hoarders

This looks like an episode of Hoarders, but it’s not.

The flooring in my daughter’s rooms is being replaced with oak laminate, and the carpeting is to be removed. In order to do this, we have to move everything out of the rooms. OK, not everything, but in order to get the work done, we can leave some furniture in the rooms, as long as it’s moveable. It’s not moveable with full shelves. Thus, everything has to be boxed and moved.

I have chosen to move their beds out as well, and, short of moving it all downstairs, I have to move it to the hall and our bedroom. I now have to crawl over and under stuff to get around!

The oak laminate matches the oak flooring on the first floor, and works out well. It’s just getting there that’s the problem.

Live like normal people!

On Saturday, January 9, 2010, I wrote:

We have good neighbors and friends. They live a block or so away, and are extremely helpful and good people. So it’s with a bit of concern that I write these thoughts, but some things need to get out! I have kept their names out of this so that no criminal intent can be blamed on me.They were redoing their kitchen several years ago and were getting rid of their old refrigerator. They were paying the delivery company $40 to take it away. When we found out, we had it taken to our house for the same $40 (we did pay it) and it lives in my garage as the garage frig.

I know it eats up some electricity, but it gives us great frig storage when we need it. It does not freeze in the very cold winter because some law of thermodynamics says freezers won’t work if the outside temp is below freezing, although frigs do work at that temperature. I asked a repair guy about it and he explained it and I never understood, I just smiled!

So, the now their frig is gone and he tells us last night that in his garage he has three or four barrels, filled with straw, and in these barrels he keeps vegetables! These are people who gave away a perfectly good frig and keep food in barrels! They live within walking distance of one supermarket and within five minutes of three more! They only have two people in the house! They keep vegetables in barrels of straw?

On top of that, they tell me, they keep parsnips in sand! What the hell for? Who eats parsnips? If you ate them, how many could you eat that you’d have to keep a supply in the garage in sand?She bought a giant size bag of carrots! She keeps them in the garage. He doesn’t eat carrots! She will turn orange trying to eat the carrots by herself!I want to turn these people in the logic police but I can’t find their number.

Now I’m told the new frig died. They had a friend look at it and declared it an engineering disaster, and it needs some new parts. However, not to worry, they’ll put everything in the garage now and wait a few days for the friend to get around to fixing it.

These people are my friends! I do not do this to embarrass them, I want to put the craziness out there.

Pay someone and have it fixed!

A garage is not a refrigerator!

Live like normal people!

a note from our frinds this mornig: Arthur.... read your latest blog tonight,,, and laughed so hard.... Yes, the frig is fixed, the spoiled food is going out in the bin tomorrow morning,, and Yes we paid our friend who did the repair with wine

Too Much Information at Canadian Tire

As I stood in Canadian Tire on Saturday morning, coming in out of the deluge of biblical proportions, I took the offered flyers at the front of the store.

A very serious looking man came over to me and asked where I had picked up the flyers, or did I bring mine from home. I assured him that I never got the home delivery one and came in to get mine.

He told me he had brought his from home, however, because they had no toilet paper in the men’s room, he no longer had his copy and was looking for one.

This was too much information!

Subterfuge #2

The image used is acually fishing tackle supplies

It started so simply.

My friend and I had been out shopping, looking at computers. After we were through, he told me he had an errand, and left me. I went back home and sat around for a while, he returned at about 5:30 p.m.

He had been visiting a friend in the hospital, the wife of a friend of ours. I had no idea she was in the hospital, and expressed my concern.

We decided to go to dinner, and he called his wife to let her know he wouldn’t be home until later on. Some of his conversation was made in hushed tones, but due to the quietness of my place, I couldn’t help but overhear.

To what must have been the question, “What have you been doing?” he answered, “I’ve spent the afternoon shopping for computers with Arthur”. This struck me at the time as odd, given he hadn’t spent the afternoon with Arthur, and he had been visiting their family friend in the hospital.

It was forgotten at the time, because it wasn’t important.

Later, when he moved in with the woman from the hospital, I remembered the story.

I stopped running in October, 1985.....

I stopped running in October 1985, after a couple of years of running every morning. I didn’t run very far, usually about a mile and a half or so, but I was consistent. I weighed a lot less, probably because I was running.

I’d get up every morning while it was still dark, sometime between 5 and 6 a.m., put on appropriate clothes and shoes, and off I’d go. When I was still lining with my wife, we lived across the street from a large Catholic Complex, several schools, a church and a nunnery (or whatever you call it) and they had a track. This made life simple because I didn’t have to run in the street.

However, there were some drawbacks. Since it was very early and very dark, I did run into hurdles once and nearly killed myself. It’s not that I couldn’t jump them, it’s that I couldn’t see them and I crashed over them, or at least the first one.

When I moved away from my home into downtown Birmingham, MI, I tried to keep up with the running, and did so for a while. When I moved further east in Birmingham, I picked up serious running again. However, in October, 1985, I was running in the street at about 5:30 a.m. and hit a pile of wet leaves. I went flying and hit the ground, peeling skin from both hands and both knees. As I lay there in the street, I looked up to see two paperboys staring down at me. I quickly got up, smiled, brushed myself off and laughed a bit, and ran off into the rising sun. As I smiled and ran away, the tears were running down my grimacing face, wishing I were dead!

I never ran again!

Double Indemnity (Subterfuge)

I woke up looking at the beginning of “Double Indemnity”, a 1944 film staring Fred Mac Murray and Barbara Stanwyck at 4:00 a.m. As I watched for a while, a story came to mind which included two old friends, who very much reminded me of the two stars, and left me as a third one, probably most resembling Elmer Fudd or Daffy Duck. The story title that came to mind in the middle of the night was “Subterfuge”, as the theme of the movie was a bit too dark for this circuitous plot.

It’s been mentioned that I often see myself as the innocent walking through the world, constantly surprised by what I find. It’s true!

My friend and I were at a professional meeting, looking forward to the evening’s events, which included a dinner and a dance band. I found this to be a surprise for an educational function, but everyone likes to relax a bit.

After lots of drinks and a nice dinner, we all relaxed, and my friend danced the night away with a female colleague, the head of some state educational program. We all laughed and partied until it was clear it was time to go home. I said goodnight to all and we bothI walked to the parking lot together.

In the morning, I had a breakfast meeting with the two of them at 8:00 a.m. I drove back to the hotel and went to the restaurant. Barbara Stanwyck, the program head, was waiting for me and we happily talked waiting for my friend to appear. Fred Mac Murray wandered in (he wasn’t really Fred Mac Murray; it just sparked the whole thing). We had our meeting and a good breakfast. I will admit something seemed strained about the meeting but it went alright and it was forgotten.

Several years later, we sat in a bar for a long time talking over old times and he confessed to me that he had never gone home that evening and they had stayed together and put on the play that I saw. It was a performance for one, and not a bad one at that. Their reputations stayed intact until now (no, I ‘m not including names on this one).

They fooled me, sort of, because I knew something was wrong, I just couldn’t figure it out. Maybe if I had looked, he was probably wearing the same clothes from the night before. But maybe, this was planned all along and he was prepared with a suitcase full of clothing, I never asked, and won’t do so now.

People have been having affairs all around me for years, some of which I have written about in these pages, but I seem to be always surprised. I’m naive, stupid, or a good liar. I’ll stick with naïve.

The funny thing is, these sorts of things are hard to cover up. If you have friends or spouses etc. who know your schedules, plans etc., there is no way you won’t be noticed. I’ve known someone who come home by surprise and found their spouse in coital situation in the living room. This is not cool.

At least have the sense to be sneaky!

A Serious View (every once in a while)

I went to hear the Hamilton Philharmonic on Saturday night and the composer Jeffrey Ryan was in the house, as one of his pieces was being done that evening.

Equilateral was performed by the Gryphon Trio and the Hamilton Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by artistic director James Sommerville at Hamilton Place in Hamilton, Ontario

Ryan told a story on Saturday night that amazed and comforted me. I don’t run into composers (in the classical sense) very often, I can only think of once or twice in my lifetime, and his story resounded in my conscience.

As a young boy from Fergus, Ontario, he led a fairly sheltered life. He played in the school band and sang in the choir, but he had thoughts about his higher education which would have led him on a scientific journey. Then one day, when he was in the 11th grade, a school trip to Hamilton to hear the Hamilton Philharmonic. He had never heard a live professional orchestra before, and his mind and his direction were changed that day! This one musical experience made all the difference!

This is a story for the ages! This is what I want to hear! Where a concert, a museum or gallery visit, a play or ballet can change a life, which is the amazing adventure.

I have no dramatic “ah-ha” experiences that made my life decision. I wish there were a defining moment, but it’s comforting for me to believe one is possible!

Jeffrey Ryan returns to the radio for inspiration
By Alexander Varty
One Tree, Many Branches, the concert program that the Standing Wave chamber quintet presents Thursday (May 15), is all about making connections—between artists, between disciplines, and between the past and the present. Curated by former Vancouver Symphony Orchestra composer-in-residence Jeffrey Ryan, the Roundhouse Community Centre presentation encompasses live performance, recorded music, poetry, and dance. Multimedia undertakings are nothing new to Standing Wave; still, you’d need a family tree to chart the complex ties that bind the group’s musicians to Ryan, and that link him to featured composers Rob Smith, Alexina Louie, Ian Wilson, and Kelly-Marie Murphy.
Some of its tendrils might surprise even those aware of Ryan’s penchant for pulling inspiration from nonclassical sources. What, for instance, is the music of ’70s pop chanteuse Toni Tennille doing in a program dedicated to cutting-edge new music?
On the line from his Vancouver home, Ryan gives an oblique but informative answer.
“For a long time—and I still do this occasionally—I would bury quotations from pop music in my pieces, just as a fun thing for myself. No one else would ever notice them,” he explains. “It was kind of an acknowledgement, for me, of where I came from….My growing up started with Petula Clark and ‘Downtown’. I learned it off the radio when I was three, and it kind of went from there.”
The composer notes that, as a child, he was enthralled by the smooth sounds of the 5th Dimension and the Partridge Family; later on, he developed a fondness for Kate Bush.
So when Standing Wave commissioned Ryan to add a work to One Tree, Many Branches, he opted to go back to another of his early favourites, the Captain & Tennille’s “Keeping Our Love Warm”. In its newly transfigured form as Burn, however, only the ghost of Tennille’s romantic ballad remains.
“I was interested in looking at the chords she used, some of the interesting things she does with rhythm, and the pentatonic scale that opens it,” says Ryan. “My piece doesn’t sound anything like her song, but it starts with the same material. In a way, they’re connected by starting with the same source.”
In keeping with the theme of transfiguration, One Tree, Many Branches will also feature two very different versions of Ryan’s composition Bellatrix. One, for solo violin, will feature Holly Holt performing Kokoro Dance mainstay Barbara Bourget’s choreography. The other, arranged for cello, will find choreographer-performer Rob Kitsos on the floor.
“Jeffrey had this notion of doing the piece twice,” Bourget says, in a separate telephone interview. “He wanted a sort of male-female take on that piece, and I thought it was a really interesting idea—and to perform with live music is something we all desire, but not something that can happen every day.”
Ryan, too, is deeply interested in the interplay between music and dance, albeit in a somewhat self-deprecating way. “I’m fascinated with dance,” he says, “because I don’t have very much grace.”

Praised for his “strong and unique voice” (Winnipeg Free Press), “masterful command of instrumental colour” (Georgia Straight), and “superb attention to rhythm” (Audio Ideas Guide), Jeffrey Ryan has emerged as one of Canada's leading composers. His varied catalogue ranges from opera, art song, and choral music to chamber ensemble and orchestral works, including commissions for the Cleveland, Vancouver and Toronto Symphonies, Esprit Orchestra, the Manitoba Chamber Orchestra, Tapestry New Opera Works, Standing Wave, Tiresias, the Arditti Quartet, and Elektra Women's Choir.

Ryan's works have enjoyed performances and broadcasts around the world, have inspired new works by choreographers Barbara Bourget and Rob Kitsos, and served as the soundtrack to the dance film Fata Morgana. Recent highlights include performances of The Linearity of Light in China, Korea and Macau, and the New York City première of Two-by-Four.

Twice nominated for Classical Composition of the Year Juno awards (Quantum Mechanics in 2008 and Pangaea in 2005, the latter recorded by the Thunder Bay Symphony), his works have also been recorded by the Bowling Green Philharmonia (Ophélie), the Hannaford Street Silver Band (She Threw It Down, Anathema), and the Penderecki Quartet (String Quartet #3). Upcoming recordings include a CD of Ryan's orchestral music with the Vancouver Symphony, On Monsieur's Departure with musica intima, and Saturn (study in white) with pianist Rachel Kiyo Iwaasa.

Based in Vancouver, Ryan was the Vancouver Symphony's Composer Laureate for the 2008/09 season, after serving as Composer-in-Residence from 2002 to 2007. Since 1997, he has been Composer Advisor for Music Toronto. Ryan was an Affiliate Composer with the Toronto Symphony from 2000 to 2002, and has been a featured composer with various festivals in Canada and the United States, including the Winnipeg Symphony New Music Festival, and Bowling Green State University’s New Music and Art Festival.

Born in Toronto and raised in Fergus, Ontario, Jeffrey Ryan fled the School of Business and Economics at Wilfrid Laurier University to join the Faculty of Music, from which he graduated with an Honours Bachelor of Music degree and the gold medal in music. After earning a Master’s degree in composition from the University of Toronto, he went on to receive his Doctor of Musical Arts degree in composition from The Cleveland Institute of Music, where he studied with Donald Erb. Previous teachers include Alexina Louie, Lothar Klein, Mariano Etkin, Boyd McDonald, and Owen Underhill.

The First Time, part 2

After the two dinners (yesterday’s post, “The First Time”) I went back to the cheap motel near Barry’s apartment. I have no idea where it was, it strikes me we weren’t far from Golden Gate Park, near the bridge. It was a standard in-town chain motel, with very thin walls. My best guess was that there were two sheets of sheetrock separated by 2” x 4” studs without anything else. It was close.

In the next room there was a couple, in a post- party mode, maybe even a post-coital mode but I obviously missed that part. They were clearly in bed having a conversation with just the three of us.

The woman was the assistant to the guy, and they had been at a work related party. They discussed and put down most of the people who attended, and had a great time explaining all the sorted and assorted relationships in the room.

At first I was concerned that they would keep me awake, but I ended up enjoying the evening’s events without ever getting bored. I drifted off to sleep hearing about the day’s news. I think they finally got around to the inevitable (or the inevitable the second time) but I was dreaming at that point.

In the morning they were gone and I never got to see them.

The first time....

The first time I ever traveled alone on business was in 1974. All of my previous trips had been with colleagues, and this was to be a new experience. I was in a new job, a grant supported, one-year position, and I was flying solo to San Francisco. I had been there before and had no fear of flying, but in order to get the best plane fare, I went on Friday so I could stay over a Saturday night, and had some time to kill.

I had friends in the Bay Area, and had made some arrangements to see people. As I remember, I found an inexpensive motel near my friend Barry, and that was a story by itself. However, on Saturday night I made arrangements with Arthur Hoffman, who has been mentioned before in these pages, to see him in Sausalito.

Arthur let me know that Mark Snowhite and his family had moved to Tiburon for the year as he was on sabbatical. Arthur arranged for me to go out to Mark’s house Saturday night and we could all visit. He suggested I come at about 7:30.

OK, the thing is, I’m from Baltimore, and if you say come on by at 7:30 you probably have some coffee and dessert waiting maybe, or some little snack stuff. I was not into any kind of California laid back sophistication, and I decided that if I was going to Mark’s, I should catch some dinner first.

I was a father with three boys who missed his family, especially with my being alone. My family loved San Francisco and I wished I could bring them along, but this was a business thing eventually. The easiest thing for me to do was go to McDonald’s on the way to Marks house; at least it was the first place I saw.

Early Saturday evening it was packed with noticeable divorced fathers feeding the kids and families of every description. I got a Big Mac and fries and watched the happy families and was really lonely, even though I was off to see friends. After dinner I got back into the rental car and took off to Tiburon.

I arrived on time and had a drink with everyone, and Mark’s former wife Hope was busy in the kitchen for a while, and finally they let me know it was dinner time! No one ever said dinner, it was implied! I didn’t say anything until now (to be fair, I may have told Mark or Arthur several years ago but who knows) but it sort of never came up.

Everyone who knows me will know I ate the dinner, of course, and just wrote the two dinners off as a good nights eating!

I may have held back a bit when it came to dessert.

My University of Toronto visit....

Last year I attended the University of Toronto open house for prospective new students. I was a few minutes late for the first speaker, and didn’t get her name. However, the issue for me was new technologies, and behind her were projected questions about the University, with multiple choice answers. She spoke while this entertaining questionnaire went on, much like the screen displays before the movies start at the movie theaters. Harder to look at and listen to the speaker than CNN or Fox News News ticker at the bottom of the screen.

She was a good presenter, with a good powerful voice and a nice manner. I have no idea what she said but I do know that Donald Sutherland attended U of T and they have many Nobel Laureates on the faculty.

Also, I have a favorite question from that visit. A parent asked a student guide what Convocation Hall is used for. There was a pause, I was quietly laughing, and the student answered with a smile, “Convocation”.

Passing the torch.....

As you get older you begin to worry about what happens to your stuff in the future. Just like your parents, you want homes for everything, and need to know what to leave your kids or what they want.

In my case, my older kids already have everything they ever wanted and certainly don’t want anything I have, except maybe for some nostalgic reasons. I've tried to give away a few things I inherited from my parents to my older kids.

The things I kept from my parents are very few, but the stuff I like the most are small thing no one else would have wanted or cared about. Things like a letter opener she used in the 40’s in her office with her bosses name engraved on the top. I have a small wish broom from the drugstore up the street from our house when I was 3 or 4 years old. It has the drug store name engraved on it’s top.

All this leads up to the fact that my oldest daughter has rented an apartment on Montreal, with friends, and she has made a request for an item from the house. If I could have guessed what she wanted (except for the keyboard, which was really not a problem as we have a piano and was a logical need) I never would have come up with this.

She wants a poster from the first floor bathroom. It’s a WW1 Liberty Loan Poster that I have owned for at least 30 years and never even think about. Her sister and her grandmother are completely opposed to this, with righteous indignation, for fear it will be stolen.

Who cares? It certainly is beautiful, graphic and very American, which may be the point. I can purchase a reproduction but why? It’s just more money and would have to be framed.

As I have said before in this blog, art is seldom stolen, mostly electronics and money disappear. My daughter deserves to get what she wants, and her good tastes need to be rewarded when possible.

It makes me feel really good about the future!

What would you do if you gave a party - part two.....

In the early 70’s, Professor Marco Nobili of the Industrial Design Department of CCS in Detroit invited a “famous architect” to speak to the students of the school. This was before my time there, but Marco related the story to me after my arrival. He was so very happy to have this architect in Detroit (I have never known who this was) but he was full of excitement.

In order to give this visit the prestige it deserved he changed the venue from the school to the Detroit Institute of Art, a block away but a world away in ambiance.

As the time moved closer, he was concerned as he had chosen to rent the small lecture hall, and it could be too small. In a last minute effort, he changed the venue to the main hall of the museum which seated 1200.

On the big day, fifty people were in attendance.

What would you do if you gave a party and no one attended?

Years ago I was on the Annual Meeting Planning Committee for the National Association of Teacher Educators. The hair brained idea was that the host of the convention should come from where the convention would not be. This sounds as dumb as it was, but the Baltimore, (I think it was by city but it could have been state) Maryland Chapter was in charge of the Atlanta meeting. I know we knew nothing about Atlanta, but it really was about the hotel and the meeting so I guess it didn’t matter.

I was on the committee because they needed an artist to be in charge of the signs. Now this is crazy as well, but I can’t argue with history, and it got me to the meeting,so it was good.

The Saturday luncheon included a presentation of the Researchers of the Year Award, an award for doing the most innovative research in teacher education. The award that year (somewhere in the 70’s) went to two men who had a presentation of their research scheduled for 2:00 p.m., following the luncheon.

They came to us and said they had two hundred copies of their research abstracts, and did we think that would be enough. We had scheduled them for a main ballroom presentation, and given the honor of this prestigious award, we thought it would be better to do three or four hundred more copies. They went off to the business center at the hotel to arrange for several hundred collated copies of their abstracts.

We were busy at the convention central room, and at about 2:30 p.m., the researchers appeared. They were less than happy. They handed us 800 abstracts and said if anyone wanted them we could distribute them. It seems that Saturday afternoon, between the awards luncheon and the evening banquet, was not the best time to do a presentation.

No one attended!

Crudites with Rena

Many years ago, somewhere in the early 90’s, I had a conversation with my mother. This was, of course, a daily occurrence, even several times a day, no matter where I was. This kept me current and her as well, and assuaged my ever present guilt for having left her alone in Baltimore (with all her family) and gone off to the big city in 1978.

She was working on going to her niece’s house, my cousin Marge, and was helping with the festivities by supplying crudities for the party.

Now I must admit that although I knew what crudities were, it never the less amused me to find my mother spouting French words where simple English would do, and I questioned what she was making. As she described the celery, peppers and carrot sticks I realized that she was trying very hard to do exactly what Marge had told her to do. When my mother asked what size the crudities should be, my cousin, in all innocence said, “About three inches should do nicely” or something like that.

My mother took this as a sacrament, and moved forward. She cut out a 3” template of cardboard, and she was sizing up all of her celery, peppers and carrots just so. Nothing should be out of place because she was making it for Marge.

I love Marge, as I do most of my family, and I know she would have been horrified if she really believed that a simple request, or answer to a question, would have been perceived as gospel, but it was.

So whatever that party was those many years ago, be assured that the carrots and celery were straight and 3” long!

Everyone in Canada must have been watching TV on Sunday

Yesterday, I was on my way home from Toronto at about 4:00 p.m. I had been in earlier in the day to get my daughter and her friend back to the bus station so they could get home to Montréal.

After we dropped them off, we went to the ROM to see the Fakes and Forgeries Exhibit, an interesting look at forgery through the years, from art objects to software. It was small but interactive and then off to the ROM’s Bat cave exhibit for my younger daughter.

After a small Mexican styled lunch we were off to Queen Street West for some shopping. There were free hockey helmets at lulu lemon for customers who made it on the last day of the Olympics. This of course reminded me that we were almost at the start of the grand finale, the gold medal hockey game between the US and Canada.

So, with a song in my heart (it could have been heartburn from the Mexican lunch) we were off to home.

The radio was a disaster in downtown Toronto because the buildings screw up the signal but once we were up on the highway, the radio worked well and we could hear the game.

I was rushing home to let Max out of the crate as well as see the game in big, HD splendor with a beer at my side. I figured, given any Sunday coming home from Toronto, I had an hour to two depending upon traffic.

About half way, at the Ford plant, my wife commented that it seemed a bit light today and I did notice, but wasn’t paying much attention to the road as I was listening to the game. I was almost home when it hit me, no one was driving anywhere! All right, it wasn’t quite the twilight zone, but it was weird. Everyone in Canada must have been sitting somewhere with a brew or two, watching a TV! There was no one around.

I arrived home 45 minutes after I started. This was a new land speed record! It won’t happen again for at least four more years!