Lessons from the Blackout of 2003

It was hot this week. Super hot. And I had a lot of things to do: gardening, staining furniture, housework. But I also had a lot of things I wanted to do: reading, writing, painting. Often, I get caught up in the "shoulds", thinking that if I get them out of the way, I'll have time later for the "want tos"...but I never really do get through the "shoulds", and the "want tos" lose out.

Seven years ago, (plus a month), in similarly brutal heat, Ontario suffered from a massive blackout. For three days, the power was out. I couldn't vacuum...or power wash...or do any of the chores that were on my list. It wasn't wasted time, though, because I read books! Guilt free - without feeling like I should be doing something else. I swam -- for hours on end (It was hot! And I couldn't do any chores!). I wrote (with a pen!). I painted. It was one of the best "vacations" I'd ever had.

I remembered the joy of that time this week, in the heat, and I swam a lot. And I read. And I wrote - a little bit - for fun, not for work. It's going to be super hot again this week. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.

...and sometimes, it seems as if I'm slacking off...

It's a sad irony that when I have the most stuff to blog about, I have the least amount of time to do so.

The solution? Another super-sized, multi-topic ramble, I suppose!

What I've been up to/thinking about/not blogging about during the last month:


1. My First 5K Run

Yes - I actually DID it! If you read my earlier posts about coaching a Girls on the Run group at school, you've likely been waiting breathlessly for news of my promised 5K. After ten weeks of training with the students, we headed to Downsview Park in Toronto on June 6th for the celebration run/walk. My personal goal had been to run the entire way. I didn't run fast, but I did jog without stopping. Except for those places along the post thunderstorm/totally under construction track where the mud got so deep that we could only pass through single file without losing out shoes and socks in the goop. In those places, I stood in line, like everyone else.


2. Hansel et Gretel, en musique

As if the coaching/run wasn't enough, (remember: my idea of fun is reading a book) I just mounted the coolest show ever with my grade seven students. "Hansel et Gretel en Musique" is an entirely original French musical version of the Hansel and Gretel story. "But, why?" you ask. "Because they are a super class, with many students who like to sing. Because I like to keep French class interesting and different. Because it turns out my inner Weird Al Yankovic was crying to be set free, and it turns out I can rhyme in two languages.

I painted a gingerbread house, then (quite by chance) ended up at a couple of yard sales where I got patio lanterns (light up gumdrops) and giant candy canes to finish it off. I made cardboard trees. And I turned songs like "Sweet Caroline" into funny show tunes like "Maison Sucree". I'd already talked the students into it when I heard about funding available through the Ontario Ministry of Education to "support increased opportunities for students in all FSL [French as a Second Language] programs to improve and apply, through clear educational objectives, their oral communication skills. The aim is to encourage students to pursue the study of French when it is no longer compulsory for their program." So perfect! We got the funding, I booked a school bus, and last Friday we took our show "on the road" to four area schools. "My kids" were amazing. I am so proud of them, for taking on this challenge, and believing in themselves! And I'll try to post a picture, if I can get permission from parents...


3. SEVEC

Still on the language teaching side of my life, I'm getting ready to book another SEVEC exchange for the 2010/2011 school year. Fundraising is already under way.


4. Spring
(Sigh) Yes, I know today is the first official day of summer. But I've been busy, okay? (See above). So busy. And my garden keeps growing, and the cottage is under renovation (an updated septic system so I don't have to worry about polluting the lake! Hooray! A dishwasher because I have a real septic system - hooray, hooray!). Some pics:

The woodlot beside my mail box (part of why I love living here!):







The roses and lilacs beside my house


5. Report Cards

'Nuff said.

Sometimes, I get it right

My cousin Amanda posted this beautiful photo essay the other day on her blog, pondering how one knows when one is a good parent, and concluding, through her daughter's actions, that she must be doing something right.

I've often considered the same question in different contexts: how do I know whther or not I'm a good writer? For me, it's not about the number of books I sell, the awards I win, or even the great reviews. The real proof, for me, is in hearing about the positive impact my writing has had on readers. I've heard from girls who found the strength to end abusive relationships after reading Painting Caitlyn . I've heard from grown women who say they sobbed all the way through, because they recognized so much of their own history in the novel. Once, I even heard from a boy who had purchased the book for his sister, because he feared for her safety. Those are the stories that tell me I've touched someone's life. That's what tells me I've done a good job.

And today, I had one of those teacher moments (or maybe, it was a human being moment?). A student I once taught knocked unexpectedly on my door. She's almost seventeen now, and, through family circumstances that were completely beyond her control, living on her own. This kid - because yes, from where I sit, she is still a kid - has been through more personal tragedy and betrayal than anyone should ever experience, at any age. Enough *crap* to send any adult over the edge. I don't know if I can say she's thriving, but she's coping. She's still in school. She's drug-free. She's volunteering. And she's hoping to go to university. She's on her way to thriving.

And she stopped by to thank me for what seemed to me to be some very small things I contributed to her life. The thing is, to her, they weren't small. They mattered. They made a difference in her life. And she makes a difference in the world. Imagine the difference I can make now by putting in a conscious, consistent effort!

It's ALIVE!

The town, that is. Here in Canada, we're having Victoria Day Weekend - the first long weekend of the summer season.

Traditionally, it's the weekend when we can finally plant our gardens without fear of frost, but many people also use it as a chance to get away. I have lots of fond memories of this weekend, including a trip to the beach with my friends during my senior year, a weekend at the cottage with the family of my first serious boyfriend, and one weekend where I was double-booked, spending time both at one friend's cottage, and on another's boat.

Now, as an adult, I have chosen to live in "cottage country", and I see the holiday weekend in a whole new way. Last night, as the sun began to set, the main intersection in town (still, blessedly, a traffic-light free four-way stop) had more teens than usual standing on the corner. The cars driving by had canoes and kayaks on top, or boat trailers behind them. Ice cream signs appeared in front of the businesses in town, and many stayed open late for what will now be their "summer hours". Lights came on in the cottages around my home, the scent of lilacs mingled with phlox and lily-of-the-valley and BBQ'd steak, and people came outside, tolerant of the first mosquitoes, because suddenly, it feels like summer, and the town is alive.

Titles

Okay - I admit it. I go one step beyond Googling myself. I get Google alerts to tell me when someone has mentioned one of my books (or a found cat....)on the internet. Mostly, it's vanity, to see where I show up. Officially, though, it's so I don't miss out on a favorable review.

Last week Painting Caitlyn was mentioned in a blog

The author was discussing titles, and what a turn-off bad ones can be, and said:

For example, I was looking on Amazon the other day and came across a young adult book titled, Painting Caitlyn. Did I want to click on this book and read more about it? Absolutely not. I don't want to paint Caitlyn or even learn how to.

Although her opening question "How do authors come up with titles" was probably rhetorical, I couldn't resist replying. Click on the links to see thread.

“I know that you can do the impossible”

I got approved for life insurance this week!

And April was cancer month. Or so said the National Cancer Society.

What do these two random items have in common? My thyroid. Because it was eleven years ago this week that I had the first of two surgeries for thyroid cancer. And while that's something to celebrate, it's also been eleven years since anyone has agreed to insure me. Every time I've tried for insurance, someone reads my health history form, sees the "cancer" box checked off, and rejects me. I've been told that I can't even donate blood. But this time was different. This time, I got a second letter, with a more detailed questionnaire, wanting to know about the type of cancer I'd had (Thyroid, papillary), size of tumor (2+ cm), stage (II), and treatment (surgery x2 plus radioactive iodine). And then finally after all these years, someone somewhere deemed me insurable. They believed in me.

I wish I could say that I'd always believed in myself, but there aren't a lot of cancer success stories out there. Or, at least, there haven't been in my own experience.

My father died of cancer in his early forties, as did his mother, so yes, I suspected that I'd need to be watchful when I got to that age. What I didn't know was that it would hit me so much earlier - at 28. The writer in me likens it to the final fairy in Sleeping Beauty. You know, the one who says she can't remove the curse of the evil fairy, but she can soften it a bit, by making it 100 years of slumber instead of instant death? I see my cancer kind of like that - as if it was, genetically, perhaps inevitable. But also as if someone (okay - my dad) was watching out for me, and trying to soften it a bit, by making it happen while I was young and otherwise healthy, and by making it one of the least deadly cancers.

My doctors all called it a "good" cancer, because of its excellent long term survival/cure rates when caught early, but I refuse to to describe any cancer as "good". Young or not, treatable or not, cancer is terrifying. And I didn't know, for a long time, whether I had the physical and emotional strength to get through it. But because I had my surgery in late April, and the final pathology report (aka official cancer diagnosis) in early May, the plastic grocery bags they were giving out that year right after I got the news were still left over from "cancer month", and they all said "Cancer Can be Beaten". Up until that time, I hadn't actually known many people who'd proven that. And honestly, today, I still don't. But I tore a bag open, stuck it on my fridge, and I left it there for months, through another surgery, through radioactive iodine treatment, and through the time I just felt awful because I'd lost the gland that controls everything in body, and the replacement hormones just didn't seem to be helping. And every time I looked at that bag, I felt a little bit of hope.

Today that bag is in the front of a scrap book I made during that awful period, along with pictures of all of the flower arrangements that I received, and every single "Get Well" card. Individually, they were all powerful. But together, they were tangible proof that other people believed in me when I couldn't do it myself.

Now that I've been approved for life insurance, I have proof that finally, eleven years later, the statistics believe in me, too.

Terry Fox said "I know that you can do the impossible". Breaking the family curse once felt impossible. But maybe I just did it.

The times they are a changin'

Summer, 1983: Madonna bursts onto the music scene. I am just about to turn fourteen. Video is a brand new medium, and she uses it to her advantage, wearing edgy clothes that appeal to teen girls who want to be like her, and teen boys who want to date her. Parents, spurred on by the media, start freaking out. Then comes the "Like a Virgin" album.

It was LIKE a virgin, people. It wasn't a song about losing your virginity - it was a song about feeling as if everything is new.

I made it through the wilderness
somehow I made it through
didn't know how lost I was
until I found you

Like a virgin was a SIMILE, but most people didn't listen carefully enough to get that. I got it. I saw her as someone who was courageous, and went for what she wanted. And I've still got my "Virgin Tour 2005" T-shirt to prove it.

April 2010: Glee runs an "all Madonna" episode, using music from each decade of her career. They call her "empowered" and "empowering". They said she was a strong female role model.

So, what happened? Did she prove herself over the years through her staying power and constant reinvention? Did people start listening more carefully? Did anything really change? Does she just look tame now in comparison to today's video stars? Or are the "they" who are declaring her a role model just middle aged people like me who grew up with her?