Hard to believe this is even a discussion, let alone worrying our entire nation — a felonious sociopath muses about taking over our country, and we have to respond. The very notion – ye gods. Yet at least one pundit in the New York Times today has taken the suggestion seriously.

Why in the name of god, looking at what is happening down there, at the relentless slaughter of schoolchildren, the debasement of science and education, the heedless cancellation of women’s rights, the viciousness of social division which we’re aiming at but not nearly there yet, the triumph of fanatical evangelicals, not to mention no to universal health care and yes to the death penalty …

Shut the @#$#@ up, is my suggestion to the orange blowhole. And Greenland’s, and Panama’s. Go away!

I apologize to my American friends and family, some of whom I’ll be going to visit in a few weeks. There are many fantastic things about being an American, much to be proud of. We celebrate those things with you. From a safe distance.

Fresh snow out there, in my pretty Canadian landscape.

An interesting experience that turned out well: in a recent Facebook post, someone complained about being turned down by the summer nonfiction program at the Banff Centre, did anyone have any tips about how to get in? Among the replies, a long note caught my eye, from someone saying she’d been part of that program, a terrible experience. She’d been “shamed” for her work and could only remember a few of the writers in her group, whom she mentioned.

I was part of that very group, although obviously forgettable, and my experience was the opposite, I loved every minute, so much so that my fellows made fun of my ever-beaming face. What’s not to like? They paid our way to Alberta, gave us a dorm room for sleeping and a serene studio in the woods for writing, three editors, limitless food, artists of every genre from around the world, mountains and elk outside the door, and then paid us for the finished essay! Sublime.

I replied that I was one of those boring people, sorry she’d disliked her time there but I’d enjoyed it all. She responded, she hadn’t said boring, just that the writers had no conversation, and repeated that she’d been shamed. I told her I remembered her vivid writing, that there was a serious, difficult discussion about it, as there was about mine — after mine, I retired to my studio to weep and drink quite a bit of wine. And then I started to rewrite. She, on the other hand, vanished and never came back.

After that exchange, I got out my Banff scrapbook, because of course I have a Banff scrapbook — July 2001, a time of innocence just before the towers came down. Although it was marvellous there, it was also hard. The editors chose some of our essays afterward to put in an anthology, and mine was not chosen; that hurt a great deal. Other things hurt. But mostly, I was in heaven.

I wrote to the only member of our group I’m still in touch with, and we reminisced. And then I thought – Alberto! Our head editor was a Mexican writer, Alberto Ruy Sanchez. I adored him – wise, kind, funny, generous, knowledgeable. He lives with his family in Mexico City, where I’ll be in February. I tracked down his email, wrote to him, including a photo of me because I assumed, 24 years later, he’d not remember. He wrote back of course he remembered and would be happy to see me when I’m in the city.

So that’s good. Alberto gave us the concept of “wounds and scars” I’ve used in every class I’ve taught, an invaluable way to explain that though we all have wounds, to write successfully for others, they need to be scars — healed enough, with enough distance and clarity, that they become a story, not a howl. Eternally grateful for that succinct explanation.

Below, a happy camper in her studio, and most of the group at the aptly-named Emerald Lake.

I don’t know what the situation at the Banff Centre is these days, but if you’re a nonfiction writer with some credits to your name, check out the July program, though it’s now two weeks instead of four. If nothing else, you have mountains, music, elk, and a studio in the woods. Doesn’t get better than that. In fact, before all this, I’d applied to go back on my own this summer, to work in the studio for a few weeks of peace. Have not heard back yet.

I am teaching myself “Für Elise” on the piano. I know, every schoolchild plays it and here I make a stab at 74. Better late, etc. I love you, Ludwig! Watched TVO about ADHD – no question there’s a gene in my family, as several have it. Good to have a diagnosis, symptoms, a sense that this is why things happen the way they do – an imbalance in the brain.

From my superbly balanced brain to yours, onward, into the brisk Canadian winter and the brand new year.