New Year’s Revelation No. 2 of 7: Pause and Take Note

Time is an elusive mistress. She is fluid and in constant motion. I can’t stop her. You can’t. Nobody can.  Our journeys are intertwined. Often, we find ourselves so caught up with our day-to-day lives that we forget to savour the journey.  There is only one journey. Of the earthly sort, that is.  So please, please pause and take note.

People pass through our lives — sometimes only for a moment, a season or two, and – if we’re lucky – some remain a constant presence throughout our lives.  I am blessed. I have a good number of very special friends who have gone the distance with me.  Through ups and downs, through cycles of silence and silliness.  I was just on a video call with a pair of them today.

Lest there be any doubt or confusion, I hope they know that I  do cherish them. Enough said.

And then there are the people we meet and then never see again.  I received news today that gave me an unexpected jolt.  A person who I knew back in college – only for a season or two – had died, back in June 2009.  She lost her battle with abdominal cancer at the age of 51.  Her name was Lorena Gale.

This news made me pause and take note.

You see, sometimes people may have a major impact on our lives, despite knowing them only fleetingly.  Lorena and I attended the same college in Montréal — Marianopolis College.  That college was a phenomenal academic, social and cultural experience. It was pivotal for me.  It was when I started to have a voice of my own, hear it, and revel in it.  I decided to take Theatre – with a very brilliant, commanding (mercurial, more like) theatre professor (who didn’t suffer fools gladly) named Victor Garaway.  I walked into class, just as the upper class was finishing. That was when I heard a deep, resonating voice.  It was a voice that enunciated words with clarity, precision, and perfect tone. It was a voice that was destined for the Stage.  I looked up and around, expecting to see a statuesque woman in the prime of her life.  I was startled as I looked a few inches down from me (me: 5’4″, she: 4’11½”), only to see a teenager (one year older than myself) with big, expressive eyes, a quirky smile and skin the colour of burnished mahogany.  Her laugh, as she said “hi” to me, came right from the diaphragm.  It was hearty, strong and confident. It was, as I would soon learn, vintage Lorena Gale.

I knew then that she would be an Actor. I also knew that I would likely not, but that this theatre course would bring me out of my shell and into my own.  I was right — on both counts.

Lorena went on to study at the National Theatre School of Canada, as the first black woman ever accepted into the school.  Her illustrious acting career spanned well over 100 movies and shows – film and television. She was a director and a playwright.  A wife and a mother. A woman with a social conscience. And, most of all, she was a Canadian. From Montréal. And damned proud of it (as I am). 

I was always thrilled when I saw her on the big screen or on TV. I’d shout out and say “There’s Lorena!!”  I was happy for her and proud of her.  And I was deeply saddened today, when I heard that she had passed away.

So, tonight I shall pause and take note of everyone and everything around me.

And, Winky, I lift my glass of St. Emillion to you.

Lorena Gale (1958-2009)

(as Elosha in Battlestar Galactica)

Image (top) via  pickthebrain.com.

New Year’s Revelation No. 1 of 7: Simplicity

As 2011 came to a close, I learned a valuable lesson (although – in theory – I knew it all along).  It’s a story about an oyster …. well, actually 36 oysters …. and celebrations-gone-awry …. . You’ll laugh, perhaps shake your head in disbelief, or roll your eyes in a “What-was-she-thinking?!” way. But, there is a moral to every story, and I will guide myself accordingly in 2012. Absolutely.

I like to do things somewhat “over the top.”  Those who know me well are snorting loudly with laughter as I write this (how rude!).  So, this is how my New Year’s Eve went:

AM – Tidied the garden (back front and side), went to the corner store to get sundries, then off to the local grocer to buy 24 mussels, a salmon filet, 24 oysters, chocolate-covered strawberries, and Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame. You may be wondering how many people was she having over for New Year’s Eve?  The answer: just me and The Husband.  My theory has always been to buy more, rather than less (that way, you won’t run out).  The natural question would be:  Why all that seafood?  Well, this was the plan:  make Oysters Rockefeller and Mussels Marinara for NYE and the salmon filet for NY Day.

And then the grocer told me that they didn’t have oysters (fyi … the salmon filet that I bought could feed a family of 6 and will last a few days…but, I digress….). “NO OYSTERS!” … exclaimed heatherfromthegrove (actually, more like a shriek, than an exclamation). The guy at the seafood counter shrugged his shoulders, completely unfazed that he just ruined my fantasy of an aphrodisiac-infused evening. 

PM – So, I went home with the mussels, salmon, strawberries and champagne and then called Whole Foods to verify that they indeed had oysters and that they would keep two dozen aside for me.  The time, at this point, was 2 pm.  I travelled to WF and lo, and behold, the seafood guru had the oysters set aside for me (only later did I realize that he added twelve more to the pack …. at my cost, of course!).  Always looking for the right tableware, I stopped by Z-Gallerie to get a platter for the oysters. I found a beautiful large faux-oyster shell that would be the perfect platter for my Oysters-bloody-Rockefeller!  I arrived home at 5 pm.

Because ambience is Everything, I had to spend the next 3 hours decorating — the house, front/side/back yard. This involved decorations, balloons (don’t ask!), and candles. 

At 8 pm, I commenced with the cooking.  But, first, I opened a bottle of champagne (not the Grande Dame, which was reserved for midnight).  As I sipped, I prepared the Rockefeller filling, thinking the oysters would be a breeze. 

Note:  I had never cooked oysters before.

At this point, you are probably wondering “Where is The Husband?”  Immersed in his work on the computer, completely ignoring me as I proceeded to take the holiday celebration waaaaaaay over the top.

I would like to say, at this juncture, that the ambience was gorgeous …. the house looked beautiful.  But, again, I digress …

I then began to prepare the baking pan, filling it with coarse sea salt and placing the pan in a precarious position in my overcrowded, space-challenged kitchen.  I began washing the oysters and started to “shuck” them … but realized that I did not have an oyster knife (blunt implement) so, I was forced to use a knife.

You know where this is going, don’t you?

As I “shucked” the oysters, I managed to nearly sever an artery in my wrist and stabbed myself in two other parts of my hand ….. and, as Murphy’s Law would have it, the pan filled with the coarse sea salt fell on the floor, spilling salt everywhere.  Everywhere. I had to take a deep breath, get a bandage for my hand and then vacuum the floor, before resuming the”shucking.”  Meanwhile, my black Lab — Bacchus — was stubbornly staying under foot in the kitchen because of the fireworks outside (he is terrified of fireworks) and wouldn’t leave my side.  At 11:38 pm, on New Year’s Eve, the table was set — complete with tasty appetizers (hors d’oeuvres), fine champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, and, yes, the f-ing Oysters Rockefeller.  We toasted the New Year at midnight, enjoyed our feast, and I made a vow: 

In 2012, I will make a supreme effort to keep things simple.

 “A little simplification would be the first step toward rational living, I think”               – Eleanor Roosevelt

For Auld Lang Syne …

2011

In Memoriam

Auld lang syne.  There are many interpretations of these lyrics, but I’ve always thought of it as a farewell song. So, as 2011 prepares its final curtain call, I would like to pay homage to a few people who have  touched my life — either directly or indirectly. 

Rest in Peace.

Image (top) via adfa.org.au.

… “and peace to His people on Earth” … Merry Christmas from heatherfromthegrove in South Florida!

Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home!  ~Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers, 1836

May you enjoy and savour the joy of the holiday season, delight in feasting with your family and friends, and may you bow your head in fervent, heartfelt appreciation for all the blessings you received and those that are yet to come.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Cheers,

heatherfromthegrove

 

 

 

 

Image (top) via Skyscrapercity.com

Santa, a Greek? The Feast Day of St. Nikolaos – a Day of Celebration … of Freedom!

Today, December 6th, is the Feast Day of St. Nikolaos  − or Nicholas, Nick, Ἅγιος Νικόλαος (Greek for Saint Nikolaos), and also known as Sinterklaas (Dutch for Santa Claus).

Yes, Santa Claus was (Oops! I meant, is!) Greek.

After all, didn’t everything and everyone originate from the Greeks?  At least that’s what my family (the Greek side, by marriage) keep telling me … didn’t the father in the movie, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, say that the Greeks invented Windex?  But, not all of it is said tongue-in-cheek.  Such as:

Medical terminology …  derived from Greek.

Catholicism …  Greek roots (I’ve had some heated discussions on that one – being the Roman Catholic that I am!).

Geometry …  Greek.

Yes, this ancient, brilliant and culturally rich civilization is the birthplace  of many great things and people, not the least of which is our beloved Santa Claus.

Born (≈ 270 A.D.) in  the Greco-Roman town of Myra (in Lycia <of Asia Minor> – now part of modern-day Turkey), Nikolaos was a very pious man.  He was also extremely practical, generous and kind. The youngest man ever to become a priest (and later, a bishop), Nikolaos performed many kind deeds, such as throwing bags of gold coins down chimneys to aid the poor and providing dowries for women to save them from lives of lechery. He is often depicted (in art) as wearing dramatic red robes and holding three gold coins. His “Name Day” is the anniversary of his death (December 6) and this day is still a gift-giving date in many countries, although December 25th has become the de facto date for gift exchange within the Christian faith.

St. Nikolaos had a reputation for secret gift-giving and is considered the patron saint of sailors and children, butchers, bakers, and judges. He is also the patron saint of Greece.

What really made him so special? He was a generous soul whose generosity was born of an understanding and empathy for those in pain (physically, emotionally and spiritually). He was persecuted and imprisoned for his faith, which made him all the more compassionate and an ardent supporter for people who were battling a loss of freedom.

Freedom.  We live for it. We fight for it. And, we die for it.

Anthony Quinn, as Alexis Zorba, in the film (Zorba the Greek), directed by  Michael Cacoyannis.

When that brilliant writer from Crete, Nikos Kazantzakis, wrote his novel, Zorba the Greek, he depicted “freedom”  (Greek-style)  as:

Alexis Zorba: Damn it boss, I like you too much not to say it. You’ve got everything except one thing: madness! A man needs a little madness, or else…
Basil: Or else?
Alexis Zorba: …he never dares cut the rope and be free.

Which brings me to modern-day Greece.  And these are my own personal, editorial comments….

On October 28th, since World War II, the Greeks celebrate Ohi Day (Επέτειος του «’Οχι» Epeteios tou “‘Ohi”, Anniversary of the “No”) when the then Greek Prime Minister, Ioannis Metaxas rejected the ultimatum made by Italian dictator Benito Mussolini on October 28, 1940, which “demanded that Greece allow Axis forces to enter Greek territory and occupy certain unspecified ‘strategic locations’ or otherwise face war.”

Today, Greece is embroiled in an economic crisis that is threatening the freedom of their country.  The choice:  become deeply indebted to the European Union, but maintain solvency OR go into insolvency, but maintain a degree of independence.

In my lifetime, I’ve experienced economic prosperity and not-so-prosperous situations, like: being indebted, and therefore enslaved AND being cash-poor, yet − amazingly  − free.

Greece is a proud, gloriously unruly (Zorba-esque), and resilient nation. My personal belief, is that they stand true to who they are and say:

όχι (No!)

And then, slowly and steadily, pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and start fresh.

Back to St. Nikoloas – his name means “victory for the people” − very apropos. I will leave it at that.

One more word, to my own, special and beloved Nick ….. as well as all the other Nicks in the world who celebrate their Name Day today ….  χρόνια πολλά (hronia polla / Happy Name Day) ! 

All roads travelled lead to Inspiration

“I only write when I am inspired. Fortunately, I am inspired at nine o’clock every morning.”

William Faulkner, Novelist (b.1897 – d.1962)

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

If we, as writers, keep waiting for inspiration to strike,  we may well find ourselves in the same predicament as the two tramps, Vladimir and Estragon, in Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot − drowning in immobility.  Neither Faulkner nor Beckett  sat idly, waiting for light bulb moments to magically appear.  No, they wrote, wrote, and wrote some more.  Sure, they may have had an inkling of what to write about, but it was while going about the daily business of writing that the inspiration began to flow − from mind to pen.  It was their perseverance (and, of course, their brilliant writing) which awarded each of them a Nobel Prize in Literature (Faulkner, in 1949 and Beckett, in 1969).

It is true that inspiration may come to us when we least expect it. In a dream. On a train. Or, while enjoying a dinner with family and friends.  Believe it or not, we all have at least twenty-five stories in us. At least!  Think about all the people who have come into our lives  − either to stay or just passing through.  And the events we’ve experienced, the observations we’ve made, as well as all the anecdotes we could tell (humorous, ironic, sad, and sometimes even tragic). 

All the roads we’ve travelled lead to Inspiration. We really don’t have to look much further.  We just need to sit down and write.

So, let’s get on with it.

h.f.t.g.

Image via jcshakespeare.wordpress.com.

The time is NOW!

Time is relative.

When we’re young,  time seems to pass ever so slo-o-o-o-owly.  Remember back to when you were 12, impatiently waiting to turn 13, and then aching to be 16, 18, and – the most desirable age of all – 21.  It seemed to take forever.  If we only knew then, what we know now!

What we know now is that, as we age, time flies by so quickly – too quickly.  Or so it seems.

Personally, I used to believe that I peaked in my 30’s – and that it would inevitably be downhill from there.  What a deluded fool I was!  There is something to be said about the fabulous 50’s.  And the wisdom – which comes from half a century’s worth of  experience and hard lessons, well learned.

This is what I know for sure:

  1. Make Time your friend, not your enemy.  Embrace it. Savor it. Use it well.
  2. The passage of Time does not necessarily heal all wounds. But, it does help you deal  with your wounds.
  3. Time gives you the ability to see things from a more enlightened perspective.
  4. Time will only treat you well if you treat yourself well.
  5. Time teaches you patience  – with yourself and with others.
  6. Time makes you appreciate the past and not take the present for granted.
  7. Time is absolute.  There is always a beginning and an end.
  8. Time will not stand still while you deliberate about when to write your opus. Do it now.

So,  follow your dream, your bliss – whatever it may be.  Be confident (but not egotistical), be motivated (but not frantic or hyperactive), and  – most importantly – maintain balance in your life (things often go awry when  there is no equilibrium).

 

Image via Blog.sciseek.com.