Writing The Memoir

Around retirement time, there seems a need to write one's memoirs. It is a personal decision because it is doubtful that previous generations care much about their grandparents' past lives since they are wholly wrapped up in their own survival during these trying times. The reason we do it, memoirs,  is mostly for our own selfish reasons same as spending hours on genealogies that are usually a waste of time in the long run because they are pointless and characterless.  But perhaps when our progeny are retired and we are long-gone, they just might want something to do on a long winter's night and dig into the attic jetsam to come up with what we, their elders, have penned. That's the  reason we write memoirs. For that moment. No one wants to be forgotten.  Okay, so you have decided to begin the memoir. How to start it is the first problem and the reason most give up on the idea. First, they say, "the kids'll get the family coffers, so why do they really care about our past lives?". Well kids do and their kids do, too. The past seems to matter mostly to ten and twelve year olds who suddenly realize that their own parents were once kids. They like to make comparisons. Second, many begin their memoirs starting on the day they were born and then launch into long descriptions of parents and grandparents and wheres and whens and ifs and ands and finally in a morass of pages, give up and go play golf or knit a quilt or whatever they do for more fun. In an effort to make the tale readable and writeable, don't begin at the beginning, necessarily. Start by writing scenes taken from anywhere in your memory. They can be short or long. Stack them up as pages in a box. They don't have to be chronological. Just write it down like it happened in that moment. The readers will figure out the time frames, it's not that hard.  If you must put them in order, do it another day. Simply go with the memories just as if you were there and write them down with scribbles, notes and all. Name names and tell places and don't fret about long explanations. Think of it as a movie about yourself full of short clips that say who you are and what you did or thought or both at that time. And stick them in the box, messy or not. You can edit later. When the box of YOU is found one day, the bits of crossings out and scribbles will be adored. You might even have a book in the end that you can actually self publish and your off-spring can load it with formal covers, onto their book shelves, literary or not, and your people will love you for it. Well, love you more for it. If you are estranged from your family, do it anyway and tell it like it was - on your side of the fence. It's your chance to give your reasons. What you were as a child and the impressions you had are all valid whether you think so now or not. You can even go ahead and be perfectly honest because your impressions are just that - yours. There is no one to judge whether you made sense over it all or were correct or not and no apologies are necessary. Tell those to the priest or someone else and just go ahead with your side of it. When you have finished, I was going to say, but then I realized, you won't finish. You'll go on with this until you are no more. But your words and thoughts, the you that is truly you, will go on and on in the eyes of your readers.

Ivy League Clingers

Where do you get your ideas for your "bloggerelle" someone once asked. Where every other writer does, I answered. It's in the air we breathe. Today, while breathing, I saw a strand of ivy on my window sill, one that, unbeknownst to me,  had grown up and around the oak  frame. Wishing to clean it, I decided to take the ivy plant from the sill and wipe down the glass and wood work. Alas, the ivy stalk had sent its tiny sucker-like tendrils right into the wood, thinking to draw nourishment and hydration from the "trunk" of its "tree" just as the same plant does in an outdoor natural setting. I had to tear the small clingers from the wood which was now marred by the innocent root-like growth of the vines. The idea set me to thinking about clingers, human ones. There are people who seem happiest while clinging. They reach out  to try and find someone who doesn't mind their habit of attaching themselves indelibly to someone else. You've seen them in action. I am not a clinger, in fact, I rate myself as being the farthest away from one. My independent spirit would likely be called antipodal. Having once had a dog that persisted in following me everywhere to my great disdain, I discovered that my nature is likely farthest from being called a clinging vine as I gave it to a worthy friend. I know such human clinging vines and they are often sad creatures. Their greatest need is to find a likely subject on which to settle. If they mistakenly happen on someone who has no intention of nurturing their intent, they become morose and desperate and try even harder to find another person to stick on. Once found, to keep their intended, they will do anything, submit to any manner of abuse and lay themselves at the mercy of the clingee. You know the kind. They cannot be talked out of their goals. They think, if I do this or that for this person I cling to, they will become indelibly accustomed to me and will not be able to cast me off. I know dear people who clean house and do their gardens, who spend vast amounts of money on jewelry and travel, who accept any kind of nasty treatment and go back for more. All so not to lose them.The objects of their affections have no intention of re-paying them with the slightest promise of permanency or being, to them,  in the least, faithful. They know that they may do what they will and that the clinger will come back for more mistreatment. Tales of such pathetic relationships are classical. Clingers just can't help it any more than ivy needs to climb.

Splendid Love

When one says "I love you", they have in mind, their own vision of what it means. How you perceive those words may not be what was intended. I suppose this applies to everything that we hear and say: there is a receiver and a sender, basically, and words do not always convey intent. As legions of people have learned, the L word is easily spoken but can be reality, only if proven. In romance, for example, it is  heard frequently during the "honeymoon" phase. It can be written or carved into a tree or traced in the sand and it is, perhaps even sincere - at the time. But Love has to be tested and it is, mostly, by Time, that old professor of truth. So what is love? It's, of course, an emotion and emotion has the word "motion" in it. It moves. Love is one thing one day and can be something else the "day after", a tenuous term: wispy and winsome. It must be handled and/or believed with care. The successful loves are those of long lasting relationships: friendships, marriages, associations. Familial love is also testable. Some family purveyors of the word, take it to mean, I love you if-you-do-what-we-want-you-to-do-or-be and if you do not, our love is removed. This kind of love never was actual but, merely a tool used to control and imprison someone with rules of conformity. This sort of love professed, is like a manacle and really not love at all. Love is free to be given and received without boundaries.  Families are often broken in this way. Sad, because family is the one safe place where one should be accepted no matter what. It is supposed to be a haven with people who take you in and care for you, even make sacrifices for you.  The most commonly cruel "love" is that spoken to take advantage of another. How many false romances are begun this way only to leave someone with scars. And sometimes what one sincerely thinks is love, over time, wears out and was not love at all but only infatuation. The greatest love is that which is strong and lasting and tested to be found true. If you've experienced such a love, you are indeed, a fortunate person. And those who have not, should never abandon the hope of finding or having the ability to give that kind of love. Love is a many splendored thing and it can, and should be, splendid.

What's Right?

What are our "rights" and which ones do we have? Often we say, " but it's my right to ..." and finish it off with what we think that right is. But is it merely what we think our rights are? Do we have the right to demonstrate and how may we do that? Do we have the right to come and go as we wish? In some countries you may not be able freely to go from one place to another as we do. We have two languages in our country and according to the Charter, we should be able to use and to see either language. This one intrigues me as I see some oddities to do with this right! When it comes to the law and what it may or may not do without permission, we should be well aware of these rights for our own protection. We have fundamental freedoms. Do you know what they are? For example, we talk about our right of free speech but obviously there are limitations. Society and its laws deem that we pay attention to legal matters such as libel and slander for which one can be sued. Sued, yes,  if one has the determination, patience, proof and the price of lawyers to effect that threat. And then there are obscenity laws to protect us from those who interfere with our freedom to enjoy peace on our property. We have the right to sue. But in this country, fortunately, we are not yet "sue happy". Our courts don't favour idle sueing and not too many lawyers are willing to dabble overly long in that pool of dubious murk unless there is direct cause. Other rights are legal ones: those to move or reside in and out of the country, language, multicultural facets, treatment under police law and government and legal topics. Some rights are honed by individual provinces and these vary and are well worth learning what they are in your particular province. Our rights were enacted in 1960 originally but they stand today even though they are open apparently to interpretation. They are broad in terms and often tested in courts when challenged. We have the right to life but not death, for example. These days, there is much controversy surrounding the matter of assisted suicide for those wanting to go, literally, that route. There is discussion on the matter of the rights to having religious schools and their continuing existence. How one is treated by the law is within a set of guidelines and how one is punished and who is to decide that and what the limitations are. In some countries torture and horrendous treatment of prisoners is accepted. Not here. But for the majority of us, our rights, as we know them, on an every day basis, stem from our rather hazy knowledge, that usually is assumed through our pores. It's not a bad idea to take a few minutes to look up your  Canadian Bill of Rights and Freedoms.You might be surprised. Right?

All Powerful

Is there an "all powerful" force or being? What most call God. That is the question that only "faith" can answer depending upon what "faith" belongs to those asking it or expounding upon it.  Without revealing my personal beliefs, I may share my thoughts on the subject in spite of the it-isn't-polite-to discuss- religion rule. As to the last "rule" I would have to say that it seldom applies when people get together. Somehow, eventually, the subject in some way, arises and strong opinions prevail. We are as human creatures with a spiritual nature as witnessed from our primitive beginnings. I am an incurable talker but during one of these conversations, I am unusually quiet. I have much to learn on a question that continuously baffles me. I respect the religious opinions of others, be they not obviously harmful to other human beings or their beloved properties. No one can tell me that destroying the latter is in any way "god-like". If there were such a "god", it is certainly not one that would attract me. Horrible wars raged over such questions that had answers which didn't fit the other side's opinions. And they happened a very long time ago. If you think about it, they are happening today. I suppose it is necessary before criticising any religion, to learn all about it and speak with those who are believers. And most of all listen before coming to a conclusion. Even this piece could be denied for daring to bring up the topic of religion. That's how powerful the subject is. The idea that our lives are like a board game with someone moving the pieces about, ones that are our destiny, is rather difficult to understand. Another is that this game-player, if I might, knows how the game will turn out. And it isn't always good. It seems to me that our lives are kind of shaky in any event and if we make it to a timely death, we've sort of come close to winning the prize, or at least being mighty lucky, if you'll pardon the hidden pun. What I can't see is one religion, calling down another since our very constitution denies that. These days with wars ensuing over who believes and practises what, is a difficult thing to fathom. It would seem that any all-powerful force would be looking after, in a kindly manner, its charges, and keeping them from any harm. If there is only one such force, let's hope it cares about and protects its subjects and respects all the others of its ilk. That could convince everyone that it would be a fine thing to subscribe to. But to murder or cause destruction doesn't seem at all convincing in an attempt to enlist new members or instill confidence in its tenets. I'm just saying.

Take Heart

The world seems in chaos and as we see events taking place, over which the majority of us have no control whatsoever, even in our meagre one vote. We feel that everything is sliding into some kind of dark place. It is depressing to say the least: disease, war, poverty, pollution and more. But take heart. Right where we stand, is where we can find peace if only we let it in. It doesn't come in bottles or smoke or pills. It comes from the heart. We can still smile, say a friendly word, do a nice thing for someone close. Just smiling makes our environment more pleasant. I know people who watch their screens constantly. They can spout the latest news about world events and sound very knowledgeable. They know the names of the enemy, be it a virus or a party or a faction. They know weapons, their titles and what they can do. They can point out on a map, every place that is warring and hurting people and causing the world to retch its bombs and rockets. They impress their friends with their passion about which places develop and cause destruction and what "they" ought to do about it.  Each natural disaster becomes the topic of their day. Their lives centre around horror and mayhem and they appear to revel in it. A life like that, needs to find balance. While I don't think one can turn away from what needs doing or what needs some help through contribution and assistance, I also believe that a ray of sunshine is needed to keep one's personal equilibrium. What good does it do to find yourself inundated when right around you, there are others who need your attention? Your kids might be where your grace is, or the relative you seldom see or call. Visiting someone who is alone, or taking yourself for a walk or out to a nice lunch could be part of the solution to things negative. Peace begins at home, as is said. It's all about thinking how the other feels. Spending time to be with someone near, offering encouragement, giving compliments that are genuine and seeing things in positive ways is key to personal happiness. Spending too much time grieving is not recommended for anyone. Stepping out into the sunshine and welcoming its warmth and seeing a bit of humour is a much better way to live and be productive. Many of us have little extra money to be attending hundred buck or more dinner benefits, sending life bequests to television stations or fat cheques to big universities even if we are alma mater. We can offer our small, meaningful donations. Most of us, have just enough to put groceries in the cupboard or pay the regular bill needs monthly to keep our own little worlds turning.  Some haven't enough to accomplish even these, but we are all rich in family or friends or natural surroundings. Sunrise and sunsets are free. Parks are open to use. People, even strangers at the market or café, could use a smile and a hello. Find your heart, and do your peace.

Off To The Ball

Fall and ball rhyme, and it's not surprising that the two go together beautifully. As the yearly season closes, so do certain team games. Football, soccer, rugby, baseball and all the other kinds of summer ball games are wrapping up before the icy sports descend upon us. I suppose it's sexist to say that ball games are the domain of men, but in truth, it's mostly men who put the emphasis on their importance especially at this time of year. Males congregate in back yards, dens and basements. They carouse in pubs and sports bars. For guys, it is the season to be jolly. There are women included, but from what I have witnessed, females', except for the few and true, enthusiasm isn't quite as intense. This is the time when jerseys and caps with team names on them, become The Thing to sport. This attire is not mere clothing, it denotes belonging. I know males who keep the same old tees and club uniforms for decades and trot them out each fall to show loyalty for "their team". These relics are conversation pieces and valid excuses to talk to virtual strangers about "the team" wherever the wearer goes. In the fall, it's: "Aha, so your a fan of ... har hoho har".  "Hey, didja see it when ..." is heard all over the world in different languages.  Sport finals on the box are more than mere vicarious viewings, they are reasons for males to bond and group and celebrate. They don't put their money in going to the game that's usually for the rich only. They put their money on their best guesses: scores, numbers of tries, goals, home-runs, hits. Home life changes. Forget or record your usual favorite series when a sport final is playing. Don't walk in front of the set when a game is on. Keep the fridge filled with the drinks of choice and plenty of snacks. Mealtimes are adjusted to happen between games. No one can interrupt  until the play is complete, the innings decided or the whistle blows. Fall ball finals madness is on. It's party time, too. The Cup is on, let's all get together so the guys can take over the living room and the "gals" can congregate around the kitchen island. I see it every year, androgyny notwithstanding. Don't get me wrong, I love it. I am happy when the guys are happy. It's nice to see genuine laughter and smiles, guys having fun with other guys. But hey, I love ball games, too. Take me out to the ...

The A Team

A is usually representative of A, the first letter of the English alphabet: its alpha. We have alpha wolves, As on tests and a-ones in the military, but there are other As, too,  and some of them are not quite as clear as the others. There is apolitical and atheist, example. Neither of the latter do I understand completely. Does anyone?  I know persons as these latter, in both camps and they are interesting to behold and certainly to listen to. Apolitical, I suppose, means a person who is not a political party individual. These people claim that they sit on the fence regarding politics. (Seems to me, a kind of dangerous thing waiting to occur.) Politics happens in all phases of life. When humans congregate, they seem to arrange themselves in groups of some kind. Immediately, "politics" is formed. It is small P politics, but politics just the same. People-tics would be a better name for it. Since the beginnings of Man, there has been political activity. Any time a group bands together to get something done, they form a "party" whether they want to call it that or not. They work together to accomplish the goals  that brought them together. Perhaps, and usually so, another group has different ideas that they want put into place. The two groups, if wise enough, debate the issue and in some way either compromise and cooperate, which is the best way to do things, or they decide to become opponents and push their influence to convince all others that what they want is best.  What do we have? Politics. Unfortunately, in the animal world and sometimes the people-world, one or the other party decides that the only way to get their own way, is to cause war. Whomever wins, will rule from then on. Whoa, you say, that's not the right way to go about it! Exactly. But logic doesn't always prevail. Various forms of government came to be, so that every single person should somehow be a part in the decision making: thus democracy and hopefully, peace. Doesn't always work but it's worth trying.  Another group of As are atheists. They are perfectly lovely folks who do not find they want to believe in a god. They decide that there is no spiritual master plan and that they don't need a spiritual leader of any kind in their lives. They have a right to their own ideas, certainly in the Western world.  Religion is a private matter. Religion is also, a dicey matter because it is so intense, up close and personal. Even within religious groups, there is often friction of a mild kind. There is struggle for many of its members to envelope all and every tenet of their group.  Often they re-form to become another, more agreeable faction. Vast amounts of time is spent arguing about why they are what they are and how they hope to convince everyone else that their way is the best way. In a civilized sphere the debate is present and eternal, but the end result is basically, I'll build my church and you build yours. Atheists don't have a church but they do have an unorganized form of it when they gather socially and discuss their beliefs and debate why their take on it is right. The true meaning of A , according to Webster, is that "a" means "at" or "as one". In Latin, "a" or "ab" means "from" or "away". Seems somewhat contradictory. Our language, one of the Latin strain, continues, relentlessly, to fascinate, especially A.

Best Buttons

There are lots of buttons and/or keys to press these days on your computer keyboard, device or video control and I think they should be rated and awarded usefulness ribbons. I have discovered the very best button or key, the blue ribbon contender. For computer folk, it's the silence button, you know, the one with the slashed circle beside the speaker icon?  It's the same one that reads "mute" on the control board for my TV. Since discovering this, number one, very important tool, my viewing stress level had dropped to something close to zero. One of our modern frustrations is ads. I know they have to be there if we want viewing at all, but seeing them once is quite enough. Even the cute and clever ones can become monotonous. One of the very small programs I peek into each day, is a series of short clips on fashion, celebrity and film. Each clips lasts less than three minutes, but prior to each is an ad, the same one that takes mere seconds but its repetition is maddening. But thanks to the blue ribbon winner button, when I enter the program, I am ready to instantly snap the silent key down and gaze out the window until the real action begins again, and I can choose to hear sound once more. Whew, such a boon, that key! It's the similar effect when watching sports and there is that annoying half time frou frou with the good looking pundit guys who spout their game smarts when all we want is to get on with the game itself. Worse, there are ads involved throughout this beautiful people segment, with slender long-haired, sport-smart blondes or brunettes interviewing the same foot ball hero over and over again. No matter how handsome these folks are, their appeal is lost in over-kill. That's when the red ribbon winner comes in handy. It is the fast forward or re-wind, arrowed one. During a recorded piece, it is invaluable. With it, you may zip past the ads, unwanted messages and other interruptions and get on with what you really want to look at. I like it for self-run  re-plays. It's the "Hey Charlie, come look at this" button. Occasionally in some movies where the sound is not pristine or maybe my ears, I miss a word or line or perhaps, I want to see a certain scene over and over, there is the FF or the Rew to offer assistance.  Great little helper. Prize number three, the green ribbon,  is for the delete key. Spam Killer is another name for it. Like everyone finds, there are countless interesting sites but they often come with their miserable little unwanted companions, spammies. They are the "love me love my dog" sorts that cling to your computer like lint. Or maybe you have a perfectly wonderful person who decides to offer their choices of sites that are full of inane trite jokes and pictures that they persist in thinking you are the in least bit interested. You are not. Delete! It's that easy. The only complication is when the sender asks you about what they have sent - "Didn't you just adore...". Being the polite person you try to be, you don't want to say, "No, not on your life" but this moment can be rescued while gritting your teeth, nodding your head and looking as though you know some fascinating secret,  with " ah, ohh, hmmmm". The effect mystifies the asker and thus works every time.

In Love Again

Falling in love is one thing but doing it all over again with a familiar entity is wondrous. I have fallen in love again, but not with a person. It goes this way. I am moving and my vast, and dear library, is naturally, going with me. The restrictions of city living involve reducing "stuff" to a bare minimum. I can do without shoes and music and cookery tools, but I have a very hard time getting rid of my dearest books. They have been gleaned tenderly from stores, second and first, and from the shelves of friends who have invited me freely to help myself. I have, I say with a red face, gained other books. innocently, I might add out of the generosity of those who would lend them to me, and yet others purloined without knowing it.  In all truth, they were not meant to make their homes with me but during a long career and many moves, I seem to have acquired books that have the names of very good friends stamped securely, but ineffectively, on their titles pages. One or two of the friends from whom I borrowed same, have now gone to the great library in the sky or wherever they build them these days, and the other lenders are  mercifully somewhere I do not know. I do, however, harbour their books tenderly in hopes of seeing them again one day and being able to redeem myself. Truly, I have forgotten to return them, and then they eventually, slipped forever from my memory. Really! And although I have sheltered them merely through their being old and helpless looking,  I would, indeed, return them graciously if I could. I consider them, eternally, visitor books. But, getting back to the present, I decided it is time to catalog my books so that I can quickly locate them after I move. And at the same time, I swear to get rid of most of them. I have a grand piano to install as well.  With longstanding familiarity and forgetting the LOC and its reams of numerals, I stick to the easy methods in the orderly art of cataloguing and use good old Dewey. I understand him perfectly as long as he keeps it simple. My book shelves are my "walls" and thus I sit, day after day, with books and labels and pen in lap attaching and penning to get everything in order. But as I do this labour of love, I find books I have not read and want to, nay, need to.  It takes all of my willpower to quell that intense need and sometimes, I fail. A small pile of must-read-right-now-in-case-I-die-suddenly is growing at my feet. Among them are such treasures such as a bibliophile's calendar that has a review of a very famous book for every day of the year. And then there is the book by Columbo of the eeriest ghosts of every province  and another, a Margaret Atwood's fiction that I bought and forgot. These are essential to my peace and well-being and I know I must deal with them immediately. I have conquered one shelf now, and will delve into another tomorrow, but still have five more to go, all filled from top to bottom alongside their lovely dusty companions. I am overjoyed when I meet these old friends again, and as if  seeing an old lover coming up my back steps after decades, to envelop me,  I fall in love all over again. My books seem to reach out their arms, and I know I must  fall into them and cosy up once again. Let's see now - oh, here's Walt Whitman and ah, there's an Annotated Alice. Excuse me, I need to take a few minutes...