Another Day with Grayson

Monday, we bailed on our friends and walked a short walk in the rain on our won. Sheba is not a fan of being wet. After our walk, we went into the village to shop, and I grabbed a large load of cardboard boxes and took them to Regina. I’m awfully fond of Regina, and she is going through rough times, so I wanted to help her. She’d emailed us all asking for boxes.

Her husband of almost fifty years has the hots for a married woman with whom he plays pickleball, so their marriage has fallen apart. She is moving to a new home at the end of April, hence the need for boxes. I really feel for her. A marriage that has lasted so long as theirs has, shouldn’t end. Regina should not be abandoned for her senior years. The good news, however, is that her new home is next door to one of her best friends.

Grayson continues to thrill me with his personality, work ethic and because of how much work is getting done around Pinecone Park that I have wanted done since I moved in. The previous owner left scores and scores of tins of paint and thinner. Some of the old paint containers are five-gallon buckets. They will all soon be gone.

The rain stopped in the afternoon and the sky got brighter, so we were able to do our regular afternoon walk. I’m still delighted to see Sheba walking without a limp or a sock, and it also pleases me to not have to check on her all the time to ensure that she is not biting her foot/feet. And today is her last day on 25 mgs. Tomorrow, she starts on 15 mgs/day.

And today, Grayson returns. There is an awful lot of wood piling up. He’ll likely fill both big woodsheds, and we may have to stack some in the studio. I’m going to be swimming in wood. The three cords I bought from Bob Rooks, are coming next month. Grayson will come back to stack it in the shed where I keep all my tools. But I’m likely set now for two years of fires.

The endless damp is depressing. I am so keen for good weather and warmer temperatures. I’m dying to be outside more and to take long walks with Her Highness who now has healthy feet. It’s been foggy for three days. The air is milky blue. I’m going to put birdseed and suet out today and get back to watching all my avian friends go crazy. I haven’t been feeding them because of the constant presence of a Peregrine Falcon. But I think it has moved on.

Chillin' in the Rain.

Classical violinist Charles Yang has been singing and performing this classic song by Sam Cookeas his encore after his guest performances with various symphonies. Who knew the guy could sing like this!

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Sunday was a wet and dark day. It was an ideal day for a nice big fire and some reading. We managed to get a morning walk in between bouts of rain. When we got home, I Zoomed with David, my dear young friend who lives in London and whom I brought to visit for Christmas 2023. We’d agreed then that I’d bring him back this Summer, but this morning we decided to wait until Summer 2026 for his visit because two of his closest London friends will be over here at that time and we could all be together in Victoria.

It rained all day. I kept the fire stoked and read and napped through the afternoon. It was another solitary day like every other of late, but that is just fine by me. In the late afternoon, I got an email from Grayson saying he’d be by at noon today to work for the afternoon. I’m going to ask him to deal with some old paint cans in the shed. I want to get rid of lots of cans of old paint that the previous owners left here. It will create more room for wood in the shed.

And I forgot to record here a nice thing that happened at Mad Rona’s when I went there the other day to meet Nancy for coffee. In the past, I’ve always managed to order what I want by pointing and with gestures, but on this occasion, when I started to sign when it was my turn to order, the server interrupted me to say: “Medium hot chocolate with just a touch of whipped cream?” That’s what I always have, and she remembered me.

A lot of militant stutterers would have shamed her for interrupting and for not allowing me to finish signing, but not me. I was thrilled to have her help.

Sheba and I shall walk this morning with some of our friends, some have bailed because it’s so wet out there, then I’ll come home to await Grayson’s arrival. I’ll be chillin’ with the animals all day. We’re in for a lot of wet weather this week, so many more idle days indoors for us.

Emergency Communications

Saturday began under bright sunny skies, but slowly, over the course of the day, high thin clouds dulled the sunshine. We walked in the morning on the Ricki trail and then came home for lunch. In the afternoon, we played fetch at Rollo Park. A soft day like every other.

I’ve been invited to the birthday party for Nancy. She’s turning 80! I accepted immediately because it was Kris inviting me, and of course I want to be part of a celebration for Nancy. But then I found out that there will be a dozen people, and I try to avoid large gatherings. I’m pondering what to do. My choices are baking a cake and writing a nice card and dropping them off ahead of the party, but avoiding the party, or going to the party and taking an Ativan. That’s what Dr. S. says the drug is for—prophylaxis ahead of something challenging.

The evening was spent watching a movie. I’ve subscribed to Mubi because it’s only one dollar a month for the first three months, then I’ll cancel. But it’s an interesting sight. Most films seem to be independent features; I don’t recognize any of the titles. It’s a rich resource for people who like film and more obscure films, in particular. For a buck a month, you’ve naught to lose.

The rain came in the afternoon. It was gentle, and it makes everything look so shiny and green. I like the rain; it makes being inside feel so cozy and warm. Plus, it’s washing all the fertilizer I put out into the roots of my plants at a crucial time of year.

Everything feels good because Sheba is back. Normal, healthy, happy, irritating, Sheba is back, and without any foot problems. It makes everything feel better, having that problem solved.

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I got an email from a long-forgotten college acquaintance. He is writing a memoire (who isn’t?), and he wanted to go over an incident he wants to include in his book. Here’s the story….

Once upon a time where there were no cell phones, my friend and I were in second or third year at UBC. I was in the habit of going to Brock Hall on Thursdays at lunchtime. There was a cafeteria there and plenty of places to sit with friends who I ate with regularly on Thursdays. Thursday was the only day of the week that had a lunch break, campus wide, of two hours.

I suspect something must have been going on with Connie, because at our lunch on this day my friend remembers, I asked people if their loved ones knew how to reach them on campus. I asked because that morning, on my way to the campus, I realized I was unreachable.

There were 25,000 students on campus. Connie was in care and Don had absolutely no knowledge of anything about my studies—except for one name. Sadly, I have forgotten the professor’s name, but I really liked him. I was taking zoology, and he was my lab prof. I got to know him because every four years, back in the day, the university had an open house for the greater Vancouver community.

I volunteered to work the three days of the open house as a volunteer for this professor, and over those three days, he realized it was a course of the heart for me. I was not in the course just for credits. From then on, he gave me lots of opportunities, so I talked about him a lot. Don picked up on the name from my stories about this professor.

With Connie in care, Don at work or with his girlfriend Rita somewhere, nearly all our communication was by phone or notes. Billy Earl, the head nurse on the ward where Connie lived, always told me anything she told Don, because once, when Connie had a health crisis and they were not sure that she would live, Billy told Don, but Don didn’t tell me.

She was shocked that I never turned up that night. When she saw me next, she took me to task for not coming, and when she discovered Don hadn’t told me, she never trusted Don again. When lunch was over, I resolved to contact Billy and figure out a way for her to contact me on campus. I decided to visit the student services centre to seek their advice. 

My next stop was a class on one of the central academic buildings on campus, and when I got there, there was a note posted on the front door telling me to call home because there was an emergency. I called Don and went to Connie’s side for yet another false alarm. But while I was there, I found out Don remembered my prof’s name, so he called my prof, and luckily, he was not only on campus, but in his office to answer the phone. And he went around and posted all the notices.

Of course, I told my Thursday lunch club about the incident the following week. And this friend who called me, wanted to refresh his memory of the chain of events that connected me to Don.

Imagine, something that happened to me is in someone else’s memoir.

❤️ Grayson; ❤️ Rehabilitation Through the Arts

I reckon that I’m doing better. I’ve done the Ricki Ave. trail hill twice now, and it’s fine for me. I have done it both times without heavy breathing. I walk slowly, for sure, but still, I feel stronger. Also, I am not napping as often, so maybe Dr. Chen was right about my problem being my lungs. Anyway, I’m a lot more relaxed about my health and that’s a great thing!

Mid-day, I went into the village for cash to pay Grayson, and on the way back Sheba and I played fetch. I’m not better. What I know now is that I felt better because I have learned how to live within the boundaries of possibilities. I walk slowly, I don’t carry anything heavy, and life seems normal. And that’s good enough for me.

Grayson is a Godsend! He is a tireless worker, and he has done an amazing job of bucking the fallen trees. He is almost finished bucking, so next is splitting and stacking. He is tidy, thoughtful and endlessly chipper. I shall miss him when he is done, but I hope he comes back to stack the wood I bought that is coming in April. 

Last night I watched Sing Sing. It’s an inspiring and incredibly complex movie given that it is very close to being a documentary in that the film is loosely based on John H Richardson’s Esquire article The Sing Sing Follies, which covered the RTA program’s 2005 production, Breakin’ the Mummy’s Code, a raucous time-travelling musical revue that has pirates, gladiators, Freddy Krueger and Hamlet.

The RTA program is an inspiring prison program that helps members escape the rough and tumble world of maximum-security penitentiaries. RTA stands for Rehabilitation Through the Arts. It’s a program that brings dance, theatre, music and writing workshops to prisons. Currently, sixteen prisons have a functioning RTA program, and this delicate and affectionate film is cast with many of its members.

It's also a magnificent story of friendship. One of my favourite films ever is Talk to Her by Pedro Almodovar. I love that film because it’s about two men whose wives are in critical care in the same hospital. We see these two strangers with something in common become vital to each other, and that’s exactly what happens between the two protagonists of Sing Sing. 

Sing Sing, directed by Greg Kwedar, is an inspiring testament to the RTA program, which is an avenue for restorative justice that has a proven success rate as far as recidivism goes. Only 3% of RTA participants return to prison, according to the program’s site, a stark contrast to a national average flying well past 60%. 

Today has dawned bright and sunny. Sheba and I slowly walked the Ricki Ave. trail. I love this trail because it is so bright. Most of the trails are deep in the forest of dense tall Fir trees and they are dark, but the Ricki trail passes through a lot of deciduous trees so it’s lovely and bright in the Winter.