To begin with an evening of sheer joy — Annie and I went to see Downchild Blues Band at Hugh’s Room last night. I remember them from my youth, and there they were, 55 years after they began, rocking to the heavens, blasting us all with the pleasure that good music provokes. Thanks to them all, and to Hugh’s Room for its stellar programming. We need as much live music as possible to keep us sane during this dark time.
It’s been a busy week. I went to a play, Playing Shylock, a one man show with Saul Rubinek, who I also remember from the distant past in Ottawa days. The play is mostly about cancel culture in the theatre, the issue of offending delicate sensibilities, and so was a bit wasted on me since I know about that. Some moving stuff from Saul about his parents, Holocaust survivors, some fine speeches from the actual play, and at the end, I was deeply moved when Saul spoke Shakespeare in his fluent Yiddish.
Another treat: friends in my ‘hood have organized a speaker’s series once a month, so this time I went to hear Bob Ramsay, a man-about-town who knows just about everybody who’s anybody. And what a fascinating man he is, married to the amazing Dr. Jean Marmoreo; I follow them on Instagram and marvel that they’re having adventures all over the world, not long ago kayaking around Manhattan! He’s 75 and she’s 82, and they say they’ll continue until they can’t.
But it turned out, Bob was a drug addict, a cokehead so severe, he was shooting into his ankles because his arms were used up. He spoke about addiction, about an intervention with good friends who put him on a plane to a clinic in Atlanta designed for addicted doctors and pilots, and how 3 months later he came out clean. Later he had open heart surgery during which he was dead for 2 1/2 minutes, and afterwards went into severe depression. Like I said, fascinating. I bought his memoir Love or Die Trying.
Had an eggplanty Persian lunch with dear friend Bruce here from Vancouver, and last night a Vietnamese dinner with Annie. Love these exotic cuisines I would never make myself. Watched Jon Stewart’s podcast interview with the brilliant, cogent Heather Cox Richardson, pundits who will also keep us alive. And I finished a marvellous book, The Garden in Time, by Olivia Laing, a beautifully written exploration of what gardens mean in the world.
Made the mistake this morning of writing to my very right-wing Trumper friend, on the assumption that no intelligent person could approve of Trump’s cabinet appointments – Matt Gaetz! On the contrary, he’s all in, thinks they’re “outstanding.” It’s like dealing with someone from another planet. And he is — Planet Fox News. If there is one man who’s working to destroy everything decent on this planet, besides Trump, Putin, etc., it’s Rupert Murdoch. May he roast in hell.
The resistance is organizing!
Okay, on that sweet note, on into the day. 
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Downchild! I remember them from a bar on Rideau St in Ottawa late 70s (more than once) – blast from the past! Thanks for the memory, lucky you, wish I could have been there
Tried to post this yesterday something went awry – Downchild! Saw them twice in bars (forget the names) on Rideau street Ottawa back in the late 70s – lucky you to catch them again!
When they came onstage, Trevor, I’m sure we all went, oh dear. Seven old men. And then they strapped on guitars, sat at the piano and the drums, picked up the sax and the trumpet, opened their mouths, and blew us all away. It was truly spectacular. I adore slide guitar and there was lots of that. A treat, to help us forget the state of the world for a bit.
I think we have that band on vinyl! Late 1970s. I sent my friend the Laing book earlier this fall but I haven’t read it yet. Looking forward. (To The River — I loved that one.)
I kept thinking of you as I read the book, because she knows the names of all the plants, as you do. It’s a marvellous book, about gardens but so much more.