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best boys, best friends

My boy at work.

Eli went to his first rock concert today – his mother’s dear friends the Stanfields, a wild rock band from Nova Scotia who all used to crash in her apartment, all five of them, when they came to town, were playing at a roots music festival in a park here, and got her and Eli tickets to go. They spent the afternoon there. Eli wouldn’t take his headphones off, or his sunglasses either.

Wayson and I just watched “Henry IV Part 2,” and the other day “Richard II” from the BBC Hollow Crown series. Stunning, brilliant, breathtaking. Shakespeare so alive, full of meaning and heart, such rich characters – and the acting, the direction take you right inside, so these are plays, not about kings hundreds of years ago, but about people we know – disappointed fathers with wastrel sons, hotheaded young warriors, ambitious schemers, greedy, charming showoffs – all of them, people who could be living next door. Beautiful stuff.

And speaking of beautiful – last night, dinner with 4 very old friends. In 1972 when I was just out of theatre school, auditioning and needing to support myself, I got a job at the Canadian Conference of the Arts as a conference coordinator. The office was in the Flatiron Building on Front Street. It was wonderful – a paycheque, a real desk and lots of interesting people. Including Terry, who was already working there, and later Anne-Marie and her sister Christina. And then we all became friends with Gay, and last night the five of us had dinner at Terry’s and then walked over to have dessert chez moi. Rhubarb crumble with my garden rhubarb.

Anne-Marie had brought artifacts from the old days – including an amazing article by Terry, who after the CCA became a journalist and columnist. One day when Mel Gibson was in town shooting a movie – this was the early 80’s – she sent him a gift basket of Australian goodies and asked if she could interview him. Not only did he call her and agree, but he came to her house. Mel Gibson sat in her living room and answered her questions seriously and thoughtfully, and she wrote a cover story about him. He was absolutely gorgeous in those days, lest we forget.

What a shame. Some of us get better with age, and some of us do not. Those at dinner last night – the former. Definitely. Mel – not so much.



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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