First, my U of T class Life Stories I starts Tuesday September 9 on Zoom, so anyone from anywhere can join. Lots of room left. And on September 19, I’m giving a memoir workshop at the Kingston WritersFest. Come one, come all!
I can’t believe summer is ending; didn’t it just begin? It’s that in-between time when you’re never sure if you should wear a tank top or a fleece. Or alternating both. The garden is sinking, the veg are nearly over, and the days are mostly beautiful – sunny, a bit chilly, heartening.
The boys are back to school in a few days – Grade 5 and Grade 8. I think they’ve had the summer of their lives, including a trip to Nova Scotia and a very long day at the Ex with some of their best friends and their very tolerant mother, ending at 1.30 a.m. I hope they know how lucky they are.
Last night I watched a wonderful documentary on Netflix, The Greatest Night in Pop, about the taping of “We are the World” in 1985, with many of the pop world’s musical greats in one room for a very long night. Spectacular to watch them work, directed by the indefatigable Lionel Ritchie and Quincy Jones from an idea of Harry Belafonte’s. Bob Dylan, looking small and lost throughout. Springsteen, who flew in from a gig, his voice raw, giving everything. The ethereal Michael Jackson, leonine Tina Turner the opposite of ethereal, Dionne Warwick – were these two women competitors? Not here, anyway. Paul Simon, Kenny Rogers, Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles: royalty.
And in the back row of the chorus, my friend from Carleton University in the late sixties, Danny Ackroyd wearing sunglasses and a tie, I’d imagine overwhelmed, even though pretty famous himself now, by the stellar company.
What’s most moving is the hard work, vulnerability, and dedication on display. Bob Geldof is there to remind them what they are actually singing for, to raise money to mitigate mass starvation in Ethiopia. Then Stevie decides they should sing a few lines in Swahili, and because everyone loves Stevie, they try to learn it — it’s 4 a.m., Waylon Jennings gives up and walks out, and Ray Charles urges Quincy to shut down the conversation — until someone points out Ethiopians don’t speak Swahili.
Another moment when Stevie needs the bathroom and Ray Charles takes him there — as someone says, the blind literally leading the blind.
The song was an instant worldwide hit and raised over $60 million in famine relief, and ongoing. A glorious story of creativity and generosity, could not be more sorely needed right now. Highly recommended.
I also got BritBox for a month to watch the six episodes of Outrageous, the fascinating story of the six Mitford sisters from an aristocratic British family in the nineteen-thirties. Two, horrifyingly, became fascists — Unity a confidante and intimate of Hitler’s!, her glam sister Diana eventually married to Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Fascist party. On the other hand, Jessica became a Communist, and almost all of them became successful writers. The story seems to indicate that sexual frustration and lack of purpose and education led the young sisters to the all-consuming fascist cause. A tale with resonance for today, as we watch fascist ascendance. Who would have believed it?
A personal note: Oswald’s grandson Ivo Mosley got in touch with me after reading Finding the Jewish Shakespeare, and we corresponded for a bit; there was even a plan for us to meet up in London, though we never did. He was a lovely man who despised his grandfather. He died last year at the age of 72. Wish I’d asked him more questions about his family.
Tuesday morning Jean-Marc called; we’d made a tentative arrangement if the weather was good to ride to the island once more for a picnic, as we did earlier in the summer. But I’d forgotten our date and was swamped with things to do, told him I couldn’t make it. And then thought, wait, how often will I have the chance to go somewhere, on a stunning day, with this dear man? So I asked if instead, we could ride down to the new park in the Toronto Port Lands at the mouth of the Don River — Biidaasage Park. It’s amazing – the largest new TO park in a generation — a landscape of native grasses and plants, many trails, and the best playground anywhere, with tons of water features including pumps, and a zipline. I hope my boys are not too old to enjoy it if I can get them there, though I fear they are. A few years ago, I would not have been able to tear them away. Pumps!
JM, who should have been a city planner, is critical of various aspects of the design. There are few “destination” spots, instead just meandering paths on one side of the river and the other with only one bridge and few shady places to sit. But I loved it. Nice to be reminded that sometimes, this city can actually do something bold and beautiful. If only it happened more often.
On the other hand, our premier is appealing the judge’s ruling that tearing out the city’s bike lanes is unconstitutional. Of course he is. Could I despise him more? And the Star reports today that he and his party are polling at an all-time high. Makes me sick. As does the news from all over. Israel bombing more hospitals and slaughtering reporters, as if determined to cement its reputation as a pariah without a shred of morality. The States … well, where to begin? I won’t begin.
Have to say that these days, I feel I’m doing a lousy job at almost everything, barely keeping up with house and garden and cooking and writing, though definitely, unfortunately, keeping up with the news. I’m extremely prompt with editing jobs, though, that are helping to pay the bills. And I’ve kept the cat alive. She’s sitting now staring out the back door waiting to hiss at the raccoons who sometimes peer in.
Now it’s 11 p.m. and another day is done. Cheers. Happy end of August to you all.
