Rss

Calvin is Six

Posted by :James Howden On : April 6, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , , ,

Happy birthday, Samuel Justice! Six years old. Calvin (and Hobbes) years. Blonde, bright, stubborn, imaginative, likes his stuffed animals, always on the go. Sounds like somebody Bill Watterson used to know. (What is Bill Watterson doing now?)

We are very happy that Sam attends École le Trillium in a special pilot program of our local French public school board. Somehow, enthusiastic parents convinced the CEPEO to institute a program in Steiner-Waldorf education at one of its schools, and we lucked in. (Sam’s proficiency in French, courtesy of a little help from me and lots from caregivers Samira, Anik et Natalie, was the big factor, though.) And Mommy gets weepy nearly every time she’s in this gentle, beautiful, inventive learning place where Madame Claire makes miracles. The latest? A sweet birthday story pour le roi du jour, Samuel, qui a six ans aujourd’hui!

And now there’s a happy birthday adjustable basketball hoop in our little sloping driveway, and a six-year-old boy who is proud and stubborn about his own special way of making that ball go swish…This is why Mr. Naismith invented basketball.

Words AND Music?

Posted by :James Howden On : April 5, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , , , , , , , ,

I woke up this morning with a full-colour version of an old and quite likely vain imagining playing in my head. (Playing with my head, it felt like.) It already has a title: How Long Will That Take In OldDog Years? First, though, it will be serially published, let’s say in Guitar Player magazine. Each month will chronicle some of the daily highs and lows, as well as account for this musical pilgrim’s progress in learning one of the standard riffs. We’ll start with the main rhythm from “Smoke on the Water”. And some month down the road? The Walsh solo from “Hotel California”. And one thing, anything, from Bruce Cockburn. “Foxglove”. Anything from Speechless. Yeah, in my dreams…

I want to learn how to play guitar. (There, I’ve said it. You’ve read it. “The temple is already built!”) That thought has been banging around in my brain for years, and it must terrify me. I’ve never taken even the remotest step towards it. It frightens me almost as much as writing does, except that when it comes to words I know lots of the basic repertoire. I just suffer from performance anxiety and bad habits. That, and a deep melancholia about the place of my scribbling in the parade. (As if place matters. Join the parade! Even if you’re the guy with the broom walking behind the elephants…) In any case, I’m trying to learn how to follow what Julia Cameron writes in The Artist’s Way: “Creativity is a spiritual practice….The stringent requirement of a sustained creative life is the humility to start again, to begin anew.” And the courage, Ms. Cameron. And the courage. “The beginner’s mind,” says the guru. “A culture of learning,” says the International Teaching Centre. So.

Humility and courage, the Right Stuff, remind me of one of my favourite Far Side cartoons. (And where is Gary Larsen now?) It informed me when I was making a second stab at marital sustainability, and it sits above my writing desk now. The cartoon shows a dog on a unicycle riding on a high-wire. In the spotlights’ glare, our wide-eyed pooch juggles four balls, keeps a hula hoop whirling, holding a jug on his head and a cat in his mouth. The caption: “High above the hushed crowd, Rex tried to remain focused. Still, he couldn’t shake one nagging thought: He was an old dog and this was a new trick.”

This writing trick is a hard one. A recent article in the Globe and Mail discussed the publishing trend that may have begun with Peter Mayle’s A Year in Provence, and which continues apace with Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking, among many others. It’s a diary. (I can write a diary!) It recounts, more or less, a substantial, natural and imaginable block of time. (I can imagine a year!) It’s become something of a publishing cliché, but it seems to have staying power. (I hope I have staying power, and I know I can do clichés!)

How Long Will That Take In OldDog Years? This crazy notion reminds me of that lead-balloon anti-joke about heeding an ambition. Self-Doubting Desire complains: Do you know how old I’ll be by the time I learn to play the guitar? The Voice of Pragmatic Encouragement answers: The same age you will be if you don’t. (Borrowed that one from Julia Cameron, too.) I like it. Such dedication to a long-delayed dream scares me. (Yeah, so?) Okay, how about A Year and Six Strings? Or maybe Because A Red Miata Seemed Too Obvious: My Mid-Life Quest for Guitar Glory. I am Title Guy. Now I just have to Do the Deed and Write the Rambling Memoir. (Cool.)

I Hate Men (Pardon My Language)

Posted by :James Howden On : April 4, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , , ,

Well, today there was another one. Early reports on my local news had a guy dying, running from the flames of the home of his estranged wife, and I felt sick. I was pretty sure I knew what would follow. Yes, the woman was unaccounted for. More sickness: they’d had three kids. And soon we knew for a fact what my gut had already told me: that another weak and cowardly male had taken action. He had shaken his fist at fate. He had made his own destiny.

Well, congratulations, Super Commando. (I can’t stand to type your name. You are less than nobody.) You killed children. You murdered where you had pledged to love. Was there not enough porn-fed masturbation to get you through? Was the comparative dignity of killing yourself too big a leap? You couldn’t find the least fucking trace of imagination or guts? When your ex-wife was dead, when you’d spattered your children’s blood around the home you didn’t deserve, when you’d lit the fire that made ashes of a family, did you then try to run away? I think you did. I wonder where you thought you were going. You are the worst face of maleness – I will not call you a man – and I am disgusted to share your gender.

What can we take away from this? Anger and disgust are galvanizing, but they make a toxic stew. So I add my feeble prayer for one more woman and her children. I remember all the good men in my life, the rule that reproves this chicken-shit exception. And I guess that we all keep shuffling toward equality, but it’s been a rough day for it where I live.

Youthful Reasons and Dreams

Posted by :James Howden On : April 2, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , , ,

Otesha means “reason to dream” in Swahili. In button-down Ottawa and in hundreds of schools and community centres and parks across Canada, it has come to stand for how youth can grow hope and planetary stewardship right in their own bedrooms, backyards, school grounds or streets. Otesha means sustainability, usefulness, vision, good humour and a whole lot more, as my jam-packed living room found out last night.

The co-founder of Otesha, original “hopeful hooligan” Jessica Lax, is a 24-year-old crusader that my bride fell bike-over-compost in love with. You can find out what Otesha does and how it began – in the hearts of two Canadian kids who became brilliantly conscious of the oneness of humanity – by letting your mouse do the walking here.  Here’s what my family said in inviting friends and neighbours (and neighbours of friends) to listen to Jess’s story:

Otesha  is one of the coolest and most exciting things going on – by youth, for youth, and for a world of hopefulness and positive change….Jessica Lax, an Ottawa girl, found herself sitting under a tree in Kenya with Jocelyn Land-Murphy, another Canuck. Each was a university biology student, each was involved in the Canadian Field Studies in Africa program, and neither could see herself going back to Canada and resuming ‘life as usual’. They had been changed by their experience, and they wanted to BE THE CHANGE that they felt was required to make a healthy world. They loved the Swahili word ‘otesha’…and they gave it to the project that they dreamed up under that tree: ‘to enable and empower our generation to take action towards a sustainable future.’ Jess and Joss saw the global environmental crisis, the disparity between rich and poor societies, and the overconsumption – of energy, of goods, of everything – in their own communities back home. They formed Otesha as a way to help young people to be aware without despair, to see what was happening and not feel powerless about it. ‘We knew we wanted to present this message to schools across Canada,’ says Joss, ‘and we knew we didn’t want to drive more cars to do it!’ 

So they returned to Canada with transformed ideas about EVERYTHING – from diet to clothing, from education to entertainment – and a determination to act on what they had learned…

And as if that wasnt’ enough, Julie Séléger of the Ottawa Bahá’í community added to the mix! She danced her way through Europe with a youthful company called Diversity Dance Theatre, volunteers from around the world offering dramatic representations of social ills and clear-eyed looks at solutions to them. Julie has also volunteered as a neighbourhood school teacher in Haiti, part of a worldwide “youth can move the world” ethos spreading like wildfire in the Bahá’í community. Amazing stuff all ‘round, and about 30 teens and twenties filled our house with light as they talked about it all. Hopefulness came down like rain. It was sweet and good, sometimes sombre, frequently funny. What could be better?

How Foolish of Me

Posted by :James Howden On : April 1, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, ,

Having April Fool’s day fall on the weekend just seems wrong to me. My favourite pranks, always, were the ones I played on my high school morning classes. I could rant ridiculously about their unseemly behaviour, their shameful marks, or their pathetic attitudes. Even better, I would spring a surprise test on them that accounted for an absurd proportion of their grades, or lay out for them the details of an impossibly lengthy and complex project to be completed within days. And let me say this: I kept eye contact and I never cracked a smile. I was ferocious.

Until it was time for tee-hee. The battle between relief and indignation on my students’ faces was almost as fun to watch as the just-ended one where disbelief duked it out with resentment. And then I’d go for a very short walk and a good long chuckle. I don’t miss everything about teaching school, but I do miss that. I hope I’ve been forgiven.

Over-Parenting Anonymous

Posted by :James Howden On : March 28, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , , ,

Sixth Birthday Fever is running rampant in our household, mostly infecting the five-year-old. However, there is recent evidence that the contagion has spread to my bride. An otherwise fairly sane person (marital decisions notwithstanding), she sent me the following. (I have mercilessly pruned it, ’cause it went ON and ON…)

“Sounds pretty cool, eh?” my wife wrote in attaching this piece of HyperMom Frenzy. It IS full of ideas, but my goodness! What’s the kid going to expect for his seventh birthday party? And then grade 8 grad will have to top that. And prom. And university graduation, if just learning and studying isn’t far too much boring effort by then. I figure that this kid will fully expect to literally go into orbit on his wedding night (ceremony on the space shuttle, honeymoon around Uranus…)

Anyhow, take a listen. Maybe it’s the materialism, maybe it’s the manic effort on the part of all to make this kid’s party the Top of the Charts, maybe it’s the selfishness (who is this FOR, really?), but I find this bloody alarming. (Perhaps you’ll find it superb and think of me ever after as a pinch-faced pessimist. The risks I take!)

For my son’s 6th birthday party, I threw him a Super Hero Training Party. I called each of the parents and asked them questions about their sons: weight, height, distinguishing features, brief personal history, enemies, etc. I then wrote up a dossier on each kid, with TOP SECRET watermarked on the paper. I paper-clipped the dossier, a headshot of the boy, and a cover letter into a manilla folder marked “Top Secret” on the outside. We hand delivered the invitations…’Please come in your Super Hero uniform [scrambling parents make sure their son has an adequate costume; somehow, I’m thinking this isn’t happening in the low-rent district] and be prepared to work hard….We hope you decide to become a part of the…CRIME FIGHTING SUPER HERO LEAGUE.  Regards, Justice Forall.’ 

As the kids entered we had a sign that said ‘Entering Restricted Area, please proceed to handprint recognition and retinal scanning.’ We had two boxes that my brother rigged up with flashlights to check handprints and retinas….When all kids arrived, I handed out their ‘Crime Fighting Super Hero League Training Manual.’ made them in Print Shop using the 1/4 card template. Inside there was three sections: Endurance, Agility, and Marksmanship….[Olympic-type events with stickers for successful completion ensued. Here’s a taste of *Marksmanship\*] I had 50 water balloons ready and a piece of plywood covered in plastic with a bullseye. The manual stated, ‘Hitting the target you are aiming for is an essential skill to fight crime…’ The boys took turns throwing one water balloon at a time at the target…they stood at the back door and threw them out at the target. We handed out their stickers for their training manuals when they had used up all the balloons. When they finished all the events we went back to the ‘Welcome Center’ and had a graduation party….

After the ceremony we had a reception in which I brought in cupcakes decorated with the emblems of Spiderman, Batman and Superman. Right when I brought them in I had my husband (dressed as Dr. Zogie the evil scientist) and my brother (dressed as the Emperor from Star Wars) attack the party, steal the cupcakes and run away. Then I told the boys, ‘You are all now Super Heroes! Remember everything you have learned! Go get the bad guys and save our cupcakes!’ The boys needed no further instruction. They all went running after Dr. Zogie and the Emperor…

FOOD – We served cupcakes decorated with superhero emblems, homemade ice cream and juice. FAVORS – After we were done with food, we proceded with present opening. When the guests would give my son his present, he would hand them a little canvas bag that I had painted their names on. There was candy and more super hero stickers inside. While we waited for the parents, they just ran around the obstacle course, attacked the pillows and ran around like crazy boys do. It was loads of fun and we were all exhausted by the end… 

 So, yes, no question, it’s a deeply admirable effort, and surely the kids had a great time. And if they didn’t already  think the sun rose and set on their wee arses, surely they must by now! Whew! MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! (But sorry, love. We ain’t goin’ there. The Little Prince will live, and more. Trust me.)

George Carlin: The Virtue of Dissatisfaction

Posted by :James Howden On : March 24, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , , , ,

I found myself yesterday, in a bathroom not my own, catching up on my reading. In this case, George Carlin’s Braindroppings was the toilet-tank offering. My gentle hosts may have been having fond flashbacks to the venerable comedian’s “Hippy Dippy Weatherman” days when they bought this. Carlin’s intelligence and quirky perspective are all on display here, but I’m not sure Wendy and Bernie knew how vulgar, and how downright misanthropic, Carlin can be. It’s dominated by a deeply angry, even despairing world view that I can’t quite get with, though there are some brilliantly caustic lines. He’s discouraged, but he makes a sour sort of fun of it. There should be a warning label.

That’s not the thing, though. In his introduction to the book, Carlin cites a gorgeous piece of the philosophy of Martha Graham, the great goddess of dance. He counters his own seeming conviction of the uselessness of hope by sharing Graham’s insistence on the importance of individual expression. So, from a sometimes pungent source (and I don’t mean Wendy and Bernie’s bathroom) here is today’s beautiful thing:

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable it is, nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open….

No artist is pleased….[There is no] satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.

Here’s to openness. Here’s to living. (And to George and Martha — not the Washingtons — my odd coupling for today.)

A Little CRAZY?

Posted by :James Howden On : March 14, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , , , , , , ,

I belong to an exclusive group: The Few, The Proud. Apologies to the U.S. Marine Corps, because this tiny assembly I belong to is about as far from American military prowess as can be. No, I’m not a Marine, but I AM one of the approximately 212 people outside of Quebec who’ve seen C.R.A.Z.Y. 

Now C.R.A.Z.Y., for those of you who haven’t been hiding under the same rock as me, was Canada’s selection for Best Foreign Film at the Oscars. It didn’t make the short list there, but it ran roughshod over the competition at the Genie Awards, Canada’s feature film prizes. This Quebec film grossed $6.2 million domestically, a big number for CanFlicks, but almost all of that was within its home province. This didn’t stop it from winning 10 of the 11 categories, including four of the Big Five: best picture, best director (Jean-Marc Vallée), best actor (Michel Côté), and best screenplay (Vallée and François Boulay). Only the best actress nod, to Indian actor Seema Biswas for her role in Deepa Mehta’s Water, prevented the sweep.

(Now help me here, because I have a great piece of Oscar trivia and I’m hoping I am asking the right question. Q: What is the only film (or is it two?) ever to win the Big Five? A: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975). Directed by Milos Forman, with Jack Nicholson and Louise Fletcher taking the acting honours, and a screenplay adapted from Ken Kesey’s superb novel. And a great film it is, too.)

(Oops, but NOT the only one. (Thanks, Google.) Cuckoo’s Nest was the second one, to Frank Capra’s 1931 film It Happened One Night. There you have it.)

Anyway, back to C.R.A.Z.Y.ness. I haven’t seen Water – or St. Ralph, for that matter, but then, neither have you – but based on my viewing and some of the buzz it’s gotten, it’s no surprise that there was a crazy tidal wave at the Genies. It really is a fine movie, with a compelling and timely coming-of-age story, a flawed but hugely charming blue-collar father (Côté), lots of boomer musical nostalgia (Quebeckers knew about Bowie, and they knew Patsy Cline, too) and a surprising number of laughs. There are even some mystical bits that somehow fit right in. (And as a special bonus for me, the soundtrack includes Roy Buchanan, the legendary American blues guitarist, and “The Messiah Will Come Again”. Quebeckers know Roy! I hadn’t been able to find Buchanan on CD until Guitar on Fire turned up on a rack in Chicoutimi, much to my surprise. You may be able to find the more recent Millennium Masters collection – awesome – more easily.) We return now to our movie review, already in progress.

And yes, C.R.A.Z.Y. is in FRENCH. It has subtitles. Get over it! You can read! And if seeing foreign-language films is a new experience for you, well, think of it as a, um, new experience. It’s really not as distracting as many of my Anglo acquaintances seem to think. You won’t miss a thing. And with this crowning at the Genies, and its international success, you never know – C.R.A.Z.Y. may even make it on to a few more Canadian screens. We should hope so.

Elise and the Living

Posted by :James Howden On : March 10, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , ,

I got a note from Elise yesterday. She’s a fine young friend, a former colleague and presently doing a university year overseas in Rotterdam. (Elise’s parents are from the northern part of the Netherlands, Friesland, so this was also a return to the ancestral homeland.) She is an outstanding person, someone I’ll be watching over the next few decades and whom I want my children to know.

Elise is a woman who reaches out for the knowledge and experience that only come with hunger and openness. One of her educational adventures came last year through participating in the Holocaust memorial called The March of the Living. Our family hosts a regular youth-friendly meeting of those seeking to learn more about the Bahá’í teachings, but we gave Elise the floor after her return because her experience was a powerful one and her desire to share it was equally strong. (I wrote an essay about that evening, which can be found in this site’s “On Second Thought” section, or by clicking here.)

Elise wanted to share with all of us a brief  video account of her experience last spring, and I hope you’ll take a look via the above link. It’s well worth the three minutes it’ll take, and you’ll briefly meet Elise and get a slice of what she shared with us last June. Tikkam Olam.  Repair the world.

What’s Next, Contortionists?

Posted by :James Howden On : March 3, 2006
0

Category: At First Glance

Tags:, , , , ,

Back in February, a friend sent me a link for a juggling video. Gosh, I thought, I love my friends but they send me too much junk email. And then, as I have to do so stunningly often, my words needed seasoning and a good hard chew, because I’ve just watched the greatest performance in the history of humankind. There! Well, maybe not, but it surely brought a spark of — what, diversion? sparkle? a slice of joy? — to my quiet corner.

It was a comedian called Chris Bliss – that can’t be his real name, but if it is, he must have learned to juggle to escape the schoolyard taunting – who finishes off his act with a juggling routine. A la David Byrne in the concert video Stop Making Sense, he clicks on a portable stereo (playing “The End” from Abbey Road), takes out three white balls and starts bopping with the Beatles. I found it thrilling. Seriously! This guy has rhythm and hands. Listen, I’ve watched my share of empty-headed television, so I’ve seen people juggle chainsaws and tomatoes, all kinds of kinky things in great numbers, but this was musical and witty and pretty darned dextrous.

Then I managed to delete it before sharing, but Googlation got me to SonnyRadio, a site for a radio host in San Antonio with a bizarre niche: he likes to make people feel good about being alive. Pretty corny, but it could catch on.