It was sure nice to be the guest of the Lake of the Woods Concert Group for last night's Ladies of the Lake. Sometimes, you get the tough assignments. It made for a very late night, but it was worth it.
Of course, I got busted before I was able to settle into the show, but a free ticket's a free ticket. The sound from the balcony at Knox was truly wonderful, as we listened to the Thunder Bay Symphony Orchestra, accompanied by Brenda and Ericka Shodin, Suzanne McIntosh and Pauline Martin.
Much of the program was familiar and accessible. Pauline's role as Carmen must've been a dream come true. I was glad to have the opportunity to talk with Brenda about her lifetime opportunity to sing in front of an orchestra in her own church. Suzanne, of course, is no stranger to Kenora audiences, and her love of music shone through all night.
I'm very conscious that people on social assistance don't often get the chance to see these performances. What it does for the soul is important, I think.
All too often those at the margins of society are made to feel indifferent or invisible. A fall in social standing has the stigma of shame attached, as if the monetary penalty's a reflection of poor decisions. It's not always true, as in the case of those who are critically ill or disabled, much less those left in limbo awaiting a decision.
The good news from our services board is that Ontario Works cases across the district are finally on the decline, after pushing our financial limits for much of the recession. We can only hope that this is a continuing trend, not just for the sake of our taxes, but for those hoping to rejoin society and regain their place.
Later this evening, I'll be the guest of the chamber of commerce, where special guests will be members of the Blue Bombers. Last year's visit sparked a winning season and a trip to the Grey Cup. This year's season promises a new stadium, so it should be an exciting evening.
I'm well aware that not everybody in our community gets the opportunity to wine and dine with the upper crust. Really, most days, I feel more like the help in the back corner, but it's still an interesting view.
My schedule takes me to the services board, the music program at New Prospect and the Domtar mill in Dryden. So, I won't be able to make the wrap-up. My thanks to all those who helped put together the Week of Action.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Dreaming of food
Forgive me for not posting for a couple of days, but I dont' have internet at home anymore and Monday... well... it was kind of manic.
I started out with good intentions, watching an old John Wayne western -- I mean back to when he was just starting out -- and it was a good yarn. Down in Yucca, the guys in the black hats were trying to force all the good townsfolk in white hats off the land through starvation, so they could buy up all the farms cheap. Underneath, there was lots of gold in them thar hills, and the big bad businessman wanted it all for himself. Fortunately, the Duke stepped in to save the day, as well as the lady in distress.
From there, I went astray. I found myself watching TVO, where the double-feature was all about chefs and the incredible meals they were making. The Big Night focused on a pair of Italian immigrant brothers, who're trying very hard to make their dream come true by opening a restaurant in America. Stanley Tucci and Tony Shalhoub are the passionate brothers, who argue over almost everything. Minnie Driver and Isabella Rosselini are the love interests, while Ian Holm plays the villain.
In desperation, Tucci reaches out to his neighbour, Holm, who runs another Italian restaurant across the street. After sharing his troubles, Holm promises to send over a famous singer, who will attract a big crowd and save the day.
Much of the movie is spent watching the frantic preparations, as all the courses are prepared. The pasta's made from scratch. The flour mixture's rolled out and lovingly cut into patterns, before it's stuffed and baked. The vegetables, spices, meats... They're all fresh from the green grocer, along with the floral arrangements. Sigh...
When the meal's all done, and it's obvious the guest of honour isn't coming, the brothers learn they've been betrayed. The singer was never invited.
As they sit in the kitchen the next morning, still trying to absorb their ruin, even the simple omelet with crusty bread looks tasty.
I have to admit I miss out on the socializing that I do through coffee. The beer I had at a friend's Friday night (he offered...) was also quite welcome, but stopping off at Tim's after a day's work or to meet a friend is so much a part of my life and work, it's quite isolating, when it's cut out.
I understand there were meals offered at Jubilee and the Fellowship Centre recently, and as much as I enjoy visiting with them, it's not the same. I am certainly glad to hear the voices of Glen Assin and Tommy Keesick on our airwaves, as it's always good to have them included. I'm glad to hear they feel comfortable enough to speak publicly about what's important to them.
I also look forward to hearing more Stories from the Streets, later this week. It really is what helps Make Kenora Home.
I started out with good intentions, watching an old John Wayne western -- I mean back to when he was just starting out -- and it was a good yarn. Down in Yucca, the guys in the black hats were trying to force all the good townsfolk in white hats off the land through starvation, so they could buy up all the farms cheap. Underneath, there was lots of gold in them thar hills, and the big bad businessman wanted it all for himself. Fortunately, the Duke stepped in to save the day, as well as the lady in distress.
From there, I went astray. I found myself watching TVO, where the double-feature was all about chefs and the incredible meals they were making. The Big Night focused on a pair of Italian immigrant brothers, who're trying very hard to make their dream come true by opening a restaurant in America. Stanley Tucci and Tony Shalhoub are the passionate brothers, who argue over almost everything. Minnie Driver and Isabella Rosselini are the love interests, while Ian Holm plays the villain.
In desperation, Tucci reaches out to his neighbour, Holm, who runs another Italian restaurant across the street. After sharing his troubles, Holm promises to send over a famous singer, who will attract a big crowd and save the day.
Much of the movie is spent watching the frantic preparations, as all the courses are prepared. The pasta's made from scratch. The flour mixture's rolled out and lovingly cut into patterns, before it's stuffed and baked. The vegetables, spices, meats... They're all fresh from the green grocer, along with the floral arrangements. Sigh...
When the meal's all done, and it's obvious the guest of honour isn't coming, the brothers learn they've been betrayed. The singer was never invited.
As they sit in the kitchen the next morning, still trying to absorb their ruin, even the simple omelet with crusty bread looks tasty.
I have to admit I miss out on the socializing that I do through coffee. The beer I had at a friend's Friday night (he offered...) was also quite welcome, but stopping off at Tim's after a day's work or to meet a friend is so much a part of my life and work, it's quite isolating, when it's cut out.
I understand there were meals offered at Jubilee and the Fellowship Centre recently, and as much as I enjoy visiting with them, it's not the same. I am certainly glad to hear the voices of Glen Assin and Tommy Keesick on our airwaves, as it's always good to have them included. I'm glad to hear they feel comfortable enough to speak publicly about what's important to them.
I also look forward to hearing more Stories from the Streets, later this week. It really is what helps Make Kenora Home.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Doing chores
I had a notion to go fishing today, but the windchill's still south of -35, so I'm doing chores, instead. Fortunately, I'm stocked up on detergents, but I'm doubting very much I'd be able to avoid the dishwasher on social assistance.
The couple of bags of garbage I've accumulated would be $4 at the landfill. That'll teach me to forget putting out the trash last week. That and a new loaf of bread puts me close to the limit.
The Saints game last night was $5, even for a high school game. In the grand scheme of things very reasonable, but on the dole it's a pinch. The symphony on Tuesday... Maybe if I pooled my money I could go until the intermission?
I've got some old John Wayne movies at home. Maybe the ones without the Indians? Or the Hockey Day in Canada... but it goes on for 12 hours! The ExpressVu would be right out, of course, along with the internet and iPhone.
Looking forward to Wednesday. The chamber dinner menu's prime rib, I hear...
The couple of bags of garbage I've accumulated would be $4 at the landfill. That'll teach me to forget putting out the trash last week. That and a new loaf of bread puts me close to the limit.
The Saints game last night was $5, even for a high school game. In the grand scheme of things very reasonable, but on the dole it's a pinch. The symphony on Tuesday... Maybe if I pooled my money I could go until the intermission?
I've got some old John Wayne movies at home. Maybe the ones without the Indians? Or the Hockey Day in Canada... but it goes on for 12 hours! The ExpressVu would be right out, of course, along with the internet and iPhone.
Looking forward to Wednesday. The chamber dinner menu's prime rib, I hear...
Friday, February 10, 2012
A little heat, please
As I was typing last night, I was definitely looking for a space heater of some kind. Jack Frosts fingers were finding their way through the nooks and crannies. It's been such a mild winter, I wasn't used to it.
The mighty Chesterville Record was more than 100 years young, and it was pretty obvious, once you got past the main entrance. Upstairs, the editor and I huddled next to the small furnace they had. He still chain-smoked and guzzled hot coffee, in an effort to keep his fingers warm enough to type. I can remember days when we could see our breath. The morgue was a fitting name. In the days before Google, you had to go back into the stacks and find copies of the old papers, where you could find all the details of what happened 5, 10, 50 years ago. If you looked down past the yellow, brittle pages, you could see between the floorboards to the pagination tables below.
In Eganville, The Leader was among the best papers in the country. It had just won best photo at the Canadian Community Newspaper Awards. One of the brothers had snapped a shot of the church steeple on the big Catholic church, just before it tumbled to the ground. A lunatic had lit the thing on fire, and it all came down. Of course, with community release programs during the Harris years, he was released within a few years. So, the same nutcase went across the river, lit a match, and burned a Protestant church to the ground. Equal opportunity, I suppose.
Anyway, I lived above the florist shop next to the bakery. I could go downstairs, talk with the Canadian Open fiddle champion, get a freshly baked loaf of dark rye, then go across to the store where beekeepers sold buckwheat honey straight from the hive.
The funniest memory I have is getting my hydro bill, wondering why I was paying more than $300 for a one-bedroom apartment. When I talked with my neighbour, who ran the shop below, she was wondering why -- every time she flushed the toilet -- there was steam coming up. I mean, she didn't mind it, but it was odd. Turns out the Toronto cop, who'd bought the building, had done his own plumbing and got the lines crossed. My hot water tank had been hooked into her toilet. Geez...
The not-so-funny memories come from the problems we had with heat in the building. The florist was recently separated from her husband, so she couldn't afford to pay a lot for utilities. Her solution was to burn wood. Still, she needed to cut costs and keep her flowers warm, so she bought some cheap supplies of green wood. Since it hadn't aged properly, all the creosote lodged in the chimney and caught fire one night. All of a sudden, there was a whooshing sound and a few minutes later there were firemen knocking at my door. Needless to say, they didn't waste any time, as they cleared away my belongings to get at the chimney, so they could dislodge the lumps of creosote. We were lucky that night, as it was all extinguished within a matter of minutes, with a minimum of damage. Still, I remember looking around for photos and keepsakes, which couldn't be replaced.
Closer to home, I remember visiting the Adam's Block downtown, before it burned. I'd been invited to visit a room, where the glass window had been replaced by plastic, and the drafts were definitely coming through. It's just such a visceral feeling, when you can't get warm, even in your home. To this day, I get sick when the thermostat dips below 20, just because of all the cold and drafty placed I'd lived in. I can only imagine how the residents of that apartment at the old Adam's Block felt.
I can also remember how the mayor and members of council joined with the fire chief and the board members of the Fellowship Centre, as we looked for places to sleep for the Adam's Block residents, as they had no place to go after the fire. We looked long and hard at the old Kenwood and the rooms up above. Engineers and architects donated their time, in an effort to make it work.
Still, six years later, we haven't been able to replace the rooms that were lost. For those counting, we've lost more than 120 units since the old Norman was torn down. While there are people working very hard on the issue, we haven't seen new units built for 30 years or more.
The mighty Chesterville Record was more than 100 years young, and it was pretty obvious, once you got past the main entrance. Upstairs, the editor and I huddled next to the small furnace they had. He still chain-smoked and guzzled hot coffee, in an effort to keep his fingers warm enough to type. I can remember days when we could see our breath. The morgue was a fitting name. In the days before Google, you had to go back into the stacks and find copies of the old papers, where you could find all the details of what happened 5, 10, 50 years ago. If you looked down past the yellow, brittle pages, you could see between the floorboards to the pagination tables below.
In Eganville, The Leader was among the best papers in the country. It had just won best photo at the Canadian Community Newspaper Awards. One of the brothers had snapped a shot of the church steeple on the big Catholic church, just before it tumbled to the ground. A lunatic had lit the thing on fire, and it all came down. Of course, with community release programs during the Harris years, he was released within a few years. So, the same nutcase went across the river, lit a match, and burned a Protestant church to the ground. Equal opportunity, I suppose.
Anyway, I lived above the florist shop next to the bakery. I could go downstairs, talk with the Canadian Open fiddle champion, get a freshly baked loaf of dark rye, then go across to the store where beekeepers sold buckwheat honey straight from the hive.
The funniest memory I have is getting my hydro bill, wondering why I was paying more than $300 for a one-bedroom apartment. When I talked with my neighbour, who ran the shop below, she was wondering why -- every time she flushed the toilet -- there was steam coming up. I mean, she didn't mind it, but it was odd. Turns out the Toronto cop, who'd bought the building, had done his own plumbing and got the lines crossed. My hot water tank had been hooked into her toilet. Geez...
The not-so-funny memories come from the problems we had with heat in the building. The florist was recently separated from her husband, so she couldn't afford to pay a lot for utilities. Her solution was to burn wood. Still, she needed to cut costs and keep her flowers warm, so she bought some cheap supplies of green wood. Since it hadn't aged properly, all the creosote lodged in the chimney and caught fire one night. All of a sudden, there was a whooshing sound and a few minutes later there were firemen knocking at my door. Needless to say, they didn't waste any time, as they cleared away my belongings to get at the chimney, so they could dislodge the lumps of creosote. We were lucky that night, as it was all extinguished within a matter of minutes, with a minimum of damage. Still, I remember looking around for photos and keepsakes, which couldn't be replaced.
Closer to home, I remember visiting the Adam's Block downtown, before it burned. I'd been invited to visit a room, where the glass window had been replaced by plastic, and the drafts were definitely coming through. It's just such a visceral feeling, when you can't get warm, even in your home. To this day, I get sick when the thermostat dips below 20, just because of all the cold and drafty placed I'd lived in. I can only imagine how the residents of that apartment at the old Adam's Block felt.
I can also remember how the mayor and members of council joined with the fire chief and the board members of the Fellowship Centre, as we looked for places to sleep for the Adam's Block residents, as they had no place to go after the fire. We looked long and hard at the old Kenwood and the rooms up above. Engineers and architects donated their time, in an effort to make it work.
Still, six years later, we haven't been able to replace the rooms that were lost. For those counting, we've lost more than 120 units since the old Norman was torn down. While there are people working very hard on the issue, we haven't seen new units built for 30 years or more.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Today's challenge - Pennies in a jar
This one's an easy one. "You find 125 pennies in a jar. This is your lucky day. Take the pennies to a grocery store to buy a treat."
I was expecting something tough, but it's a welcome reprieve. I caved and spent the $7 on a breakfast at the Tower. Couldn't handle watching Ken eat and not having some... Looks like PB sandwiches for dinner. Not exactly a healthy diet...
Up at the high school today, they're selling Bronco gear to support their teams. Even the $10 T-shirt or toque would be out of my price range. Supporting any service club by buying a draw ticket, or even the 50-50 at the rink would be right out.
The haircut I was contemplating, along with the new razors, wouldn't be in the budget either. A pack of my regular razor blades is about $18 plus the tax. There's cheaper ones you can use, but they cut me up pretty badly and leave a pretty good case of razor burn on most days.
Marge might throw in an extra wash and shampoo for me, but it's still $20. I suppose there's other places I could go, but Marge and I have been together for years, so to speak.
I'm thinking of looking for more pennies...
I was expecting something tough, but it's a welcome reprieve. I caved and spent the $7 on a breakfast at the Tower. Couldn't handle watching Ken eat and not having some... Looks like PB sandwiches for dinner. Not exactly a healthy diet...
Up at the high school today, they're selling Bronco gear to support their teams. Even the $10 T-shirt or toque would be out of my price range. Supporting any service club by buying a draw ticket, or even the 50-50 at the rink would be right out.
The haircut I was contemplating, along with the new razors, wouldn't be in the budget either. A pack of my regular razor blades is about $18 plus the tax. There's cheaper ones you can use, but they cut me up pretty badly and leave a pretty good case of razor burn on most days.
Marge might throw in an extra wash and shampoo for me, but it's still $20. I suppose there's other places I could go, but Marge and I have been together for years, so to speak.
I'm thinking of looking for more pennies...
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
A Walk in Others' Shoes
Noon today was the kick-off for the Poverty Challenge. It asks volunteers to live on social assistance rates of $7 a day or $52 for the week. Already, I'm having to make choices, as my razor blades need changing and my usual brand can cost $18-$20 for a set. Ken O'Neil's invited me to lunch, but since I've only got $7 I might be the one having coffee. He says it's okay to watch him eat... What a guy... Apparently, donations of food or meals aren't allowed, in order to get the full effect.
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