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joyful noise: Once Were Brothers and banging pots

I may be one of the only people who has actually lost weight during the pandemic. Four or five pounds shed, so far. But I’m happy to tell you that the major stress is over, and so the appetite will return. My son came over yesterday; as a bartender, he has dealt with all kinds of difficult situations and is the most street-smart, savvy person I know. He gave me the best advice, and I felt instantly calmer.

So then we ordered steak/frites from our favourite local resto the House on Parliament – they’re doing take-out – and had a feast with a glass of red wine. A true celebration. And then Anna texted that she’s coming over tmw. It’s not over, but it’s ending, and by next week all will be calm. I think. But even if it’s not, my team is on the case, and a finer team you could not ask for.

So this little sailboat is on smoother waters. Bring out the cheese and chocolate.

There are lessons here. I overreact, I act impulsively without enough thought, I want to fix things that I cannot fix, and I also accept blame where there is none. You’d think, by age 69, I’d be smarter. But I guess we go on learning about our flaws until the day we die. Hooray!

Tuesday – Once Were Brothers, a doc about The Band. The name says it all. Canadian Robbie Robertson, half-Indigenous and all talent, found out as a teenager that his birth father was a Jewish gangster who’d been murdered on a Toronto street but whose family encouraged his musical ambitions. It’s a moving story of the flowering of an extraordinary group of men, what happened in that pink house in Woodstock, and how it all eventually turned sour, as these things so often do. But their unique music lives forever. Up on Cripple Creek … Time to get out the record and put it on the player.

Last night, with Sam, Spy in the Wild: they put cameras into clever replicas of animals and birds, even fish – a baby bear that actually turns its head and grunts, a fake stork, a fake hummingbird, a fake beaver – so the camera can get close to the action. And what incredible footage we get. Sam was hilarious – George, have you noticed there’s something strange about your friend? – as we watch a weird bird with glassy eyes that doesn’t move its wings. But there we are, in the middle of the flock.

Tonight, after aperitif at 5, the next treat is at 7.30 – Monique and I go out into the street with our neighbours and bang pots – I the boys’ tambourine – to give thanks to the frontline workers. There’s not much else we can do to show our appreciation, and I doubt any frontline workers are walking by at 7.30, but we are together making joyful noise, and it feels good.

CN Rail just cancelled the exciting, much anticipated trip Anna and the boys were to take on the overnight train from Montreal to Moncton in July, in preparation for my 70th birthday gathering there. Some rethinking of the summer is in order. Careful, calm thinking. My new modus vivendi. Stay tuned.

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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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