It was my birthday yesterday, a quiet day for once, no dinner for family and friends as I’m cleaning out my fridge before travel. What’s wonderful, as always, is Facebook — almost fifty greetings from far and wide, dear friends and people I hardly know, a great connector. And emails too. Monique appeared in the garden with a bottle of bubbly and a card.

Anna wrote, “I’m glad you were born.” Me too, my love. Viking son came over later with Japanese street food for our dinner, delicious.

My gift was that both my children are in a good place. Sam just started a job a block from his apartment; on a break yesterday, he walked home to see Bandit and then back to work. Anna has a boyfriend who sounds thoughtful and kind, a keeper. Those were my great gifts. No need for anything else.

Well, except for one thing. Every year, Nick Rice sends me a poem written specially for me; this one, “Sonnet for Bethy-Beth,” is a doozie, one of the best. It ends, “… the decades/as we know/were more than/kind./ While now/we’re not/the wild-eyed/kids we were,/our seventies/are sweeter/don’t you find?

Though not

without

uncertainties

and fears,

like you,

my friend,

I love

our later years.

What a blessing that we both do. My love to you, Nick, and thanks.

On a businesslike note, my third floor suite will be available October 1. After many years toggling between here and her place in Ecuador, Carol is leaving to go back there permanently. So, a bedsitting room with kitchenette and two-piece bathroom at the top of a nice house with a nice old landlady. If you know someone quiet and responsible who might need a place, please let me know.

Gearing up for my next trip, leaving early Tuesday — nine days in B.C., with Carol holding the fort, the cat, and the tomato plants, at home. In 1974 I lived in Victoria for six months and then in Vancouver for eight years; my whole professional theatre career was in B.C., except for many tours and a show in Montreal. I’m going to visit beloved Chris, who was a stage manager and I an actress when our friendship began at the Arts Club Theatre in 1975. Cocaine had something to do with it at the beginning. We’ve always enjoyed each other’s company and sense of humour, and even, with our mutual friend Bruce, survived two weeks touring Rajasthan. Chris has significant health problems, as everyone who reads his blog knows. I can’t wait to see him.

As with any trip to B.C., there will be ferries.

I’ll spend the first two days in Vancouver, staying first with Judy, dear friend and fellow nonfiction writer, and then with Bruce, musician and accompanist in the theatre, whose friendship also goes back to 1975. I’m hoping to visit Margaret; we were pregnant with our first children together in 1980. She’s now in long-term care with memory issues.

And I hope to take the mini-ferry to Granville Island. Love that place. Need to buy saucisson sec for Chris.

On Thursday I get the catamaran Hullo Ferry to Nanaimo, a cab to the ferry terminal for Gabriola Island, the ferry across. Four days with CLo, walking his dog Sheba, watching movies, sitting in his hot tub, admiring his garden. Eating. Yay.

On Monday, I either get the bus or Chris will drive us up island to Courtenay, where we’ll meet old friend Marsha who’ll ferry across from Denman Island. Marsha was the lighting designer for nearly every show at the Arts Club. She was Lani’s best friend, and Lani was one of mine; she died in November. There will be tears.

Then the bus from Courtenay to Campbell River and the ferry to Quadra Island, to spend two days with friends Tara and David and their daughter Sarika and her 3 kids. Thrilling. The ferry back to Campbell River, a floatplane to Vancouver, one last night with Judy, and home.

Phew. There will be photos, mostly of ocean vistas and rocks. A friend or two. A meal or two. Stay tuned.

Watched the rest of the doc about the Brontës. What an incredibly sad story — father Brontë lost his wife and all six of his children one by one, most to TB. Horrendous. But what a legacy those women left behind. Periodically watching The West Wing reruns and almost laughing out loud at how preposterous it is — all those ethical, highly intelligent and educated people in the White House, caring deeply about every aspect of the rule of law. It’s a joke.

My cucumbers are coming in thick and fast, a few tomatoes but soon a crop. Made two delicious rhubarb crumbles. Wrote another profile for our local paper The Bridge, and another Substack.

https://touchpointsawriterstruth.substack.com/p/bringing-loved-ones-to-life

So, off to the wild blue yonder — to the other side of this magnificent country, over endless Ontario, over the prairies, over the Rockies, to the Pacific Ocean. O Canada! Talk soon.