Former student now friend and colleague – and one of my editors – Chris Cameron has a beautiful piece in today’s Globe about being inspired by Terry Fox. An opera singer, a talented writer, an endurance athlete – how many combine those disparate talents with such panache and grace? Bravo, Chris.
These are Cinderella days. Toronto’s film festival, one of the biggest in the world, is on now, so I’m reading in the paper about all the movie stars in town, the red carpet, who wore what. My friends JM and Richard are out every day, the first to see fab new films, while I sit in my dressing-gown reading all about it. I don’t go to TIFF because it’s too much like a job – a lot of work to go through the enormous catalogue, pick the films, work out a schedule, mail in the requests, block out the time needed not just to see the films but to get there, line up, get from one to the other. I’m exhausted just writing about it. If the movies are really good, I reason, they’ll get a general release and I can see them without all the hassle. But then, I miss a lot of spectacular films, and in the dull humdrum of my days, there are no sparkling glimpses of movie stars.
Oh well. First world problems.
Another: I finally stayed up late enough to watch “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.” Of course, I’m still in mourning for Jon Stewart, find it hard to believe, each night, that at 11 he’s not there, waiting for me with wit and wisdom. 11 I could do; 11.30 is usually too late, but I finally made it, and was saddened; it seems to me, on one half-hours viewing, that the deeply ethical and intelligent Colbert has been sunk by the American entertainment machine. Capering, giggling, foolish stunts, a barrage of quips – what happened to the man with a sharp-eyed message about rightwing idiocy? His only fine moment came with a brief quip about Trump, and then it was back to silly. Am I wrong, those of you who watch? It made me depressed. Another good one gone.
On Tuesday night I met two younger writers who also teach at U of T at the Drake for drinks; they’d invited me to a book launch at the Gladstone nearby. I was thrilled to be at the epicentre of trend, sitting outside on the Drake’s patio surrounded by cool, talking writing with two youngish writers of enormous promise. Now that’s a good use of my time.
Today my calendar is blank until the evening, when I go to see Emmylou Harris, hooray. A blank calendar is a rare treat; the days are more and more full as we move into fall. The weather is beautiful again, sunny and hot with a hint beneath of what’s to come. Quick – no time to waste. To work.
But FIRST a quick detour to FB and a gorgeous musical treat: Eric Clapton and Macca – and Ringo! – in a tribute to George Harrison, with George’s son Dhani, a perfect clone of his dad, playing with them. At the run on Sunday, I ran into Davey, the son of a very dear friend and neighbour, Len, who died of cancer a decade ago. Davey was there with his toddler, who he told me is named Len. It made me cry. Here’s to the power of genetics and honouring our fathers.
https://www.facebook.com/MusicalHallFlashBack/videos/466956453461206/ Lito P Garcia