Last week I was teaching at the second week of YouthWrite, a fabulous writing camp held at Kamp Kiwanis outside Bragg Creek.
Not only was it wonderful to work with so many fine young writers, but spending time with the other instriuctors and the supervisors was also an unmitigated pleasure.
One of the most inspiring is Carolyn Pogue. She is firm in her belief that children can and will save the world, and she presents the many projects which have been youth-led and which are leading to positive change in our world. She makes me want to turn back the clock and become a kid again, but this time a kid who had the fortune to be in Carolyn's class. Encouraged to make a difference in whatever way I can, and shown that each individual can be an effective voice/force for change.
My fiction class was 15 of the most interesting and accomplished young people you're ever likely to meet. A week wasn't long enough. And everywhere you turned there were creative minds being challenged, and meeting the challenges, and it was awesome.
But then there were the ladies from Ipsos-Reid. One of whom was brand-new on the job. And they spent a day at the camp as part of an assessment being done of the programs supported by the Alberta Foundation for the Arts.
What is wrong with this picture: a highly successful program whose graduates are now out there making waves in the adult literary world, a program operated on a shoestring and only made possible by the dedication of the people who believe in it, is being assessed by two young women who revealed no background in the arts and who are not old enough to have a grounding in the history of these programs in Alberta.
This is part of a sweeping examination of the AFA programs. Again. The last time they went through this exercise, they had totally missed the challenges facing publishers (and subsequently we have seen several Alberta publishers fold or sold to out-of-province interests) and had made no provisions for service to our growing aboriginal population.
And why? Because instead of looking at what the people of Alberta need, they're busy navel-gazing about their programs. Some years ago the government cut the travel budgets of the consultants, so they can't go out there and find out who they're serving. The whole system has become about the board and the consultants talking to each other and evaluating the grants instead of being a proactive force behind the fostering of the arts in Alberta.
Instead of sending the ignorant to evaluate YouthWrite, they should have been sending Ipsos-Reid reps out to every school in the province to find out what the level of arts-related instruction is like. Instead of evaluating their grant program yet again, they should be sending ambassadors out to the small communities and to the reserves and reaching out so all Albertans understand that the Foundation is there to represent them and their interests. And then they might understand the value of a program like YouthWrite.
If you don't know the need, what is it you're evaluating?
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
They're Back...
So last week I was washing out my coffee filter at the kitchen sink and I looked out the window and there they were. At the base of the tree in the middle of the hedge of the lot next door. Spindly legs up in the air and her privates open to view except for the bits you couldn't see because of the man on top of her and at first I thought it was a hooker, because sometimes we get those. But it wasn't. It's a couple, somewhat the worse for the wear, and they're living in the hedge.
They're not hedgehogs, nossirreebob. They share. There are probably six or seven people living in that hedge this week. And at night they laugh and talk and fight and the sound of their voices comes through our windows in a code of cheap liquor and Finesse and grunting.
Some people might find this distressing, having the lot next door become a gypsy encampment. I don't find it nearly as distressing as having the amaryllis bulbs stolen from our front deck this week. They were nicely arranged in a shallow planter - three sets of bulbs placed so the leaves would overlap. And the planter was on the table beside the clay tray full of cacti. Whoever took them didn't like cacti. I checked the back yard and they didn't take the plumeria either.
We live in a neighbourhood where people seem to think plants are common property, even the ones in the garden plots or the planters. We have one neighbour who outright asks to take stuff - I gave her several amaryllis last year. And this year half our peony blooms were stolen. Our solution is to try and plant enough stuff that a certain percentage of loss won't really affect things much. We have lots of white yarrow. No-one steals the yarrow.
When I lived at the Rockwood, it was the same. Someone dug up my carefully nursed opuntia, grown from seed and thriving in a small way in the parking lot. Someone dug up my daylily. They just come and dig them up and take them away. All the oxalis from my plot at Our Urban Eden. You never know what will appeal to the plant thieves.
It's not the gypsies next door who are doing the stealing. They don't have gardens or windowsills for these plants. Besides, we'd see the plants out there under the hedge.
They're not hedgehogs, nossirreebob. They share. There are probably six or seven people living in that hedge this week. And at night they laugh and talk and fight and the sound of their voices comes through our windows in a code of cheap liquor and Finesse and grunting.
Some people might find this distressing, having the lot next door become a gypsy encampment. I don't find it nearly as distressing as having the amaryllis bulbs stolen from our front deck this week. They were nicely arranged in a shallow planter - three sets of bulbs placed so the leaves would overlap. And the planter was on the table beside the clay tray full of cacti. Whoever took them didn't like cacti. I checked the back yard and they didn't take the plumeria either.
We live in a neighbourhood where people seem to think plants are common property, even the ones in the garden plots or the planters. We have one neighbour who outright asks to take stuff - I gave her several amaryllis last year. And this year half our peony blooms were stolen. Our solution is to try and plant enough stuff that a certain percentage of loss won't really affect things much. We have lots of white yarrow. No-one steals the yarrow.
When I lived at the Rockwood, it was the same. Someone dug up my carefully nursed opuntia, grown from seed and thriving in a small way in the parking lot. Someone dug up my daylily. They just come and dig them up and take them away. All the oxalis from my plot at Our Urban Eden. You never know what will appeal to the plant thieves.
It's not the gypsies next door who are doing the stealing. They don't have gardens or windowsills for these plants. Besides, we'd see the plants out there under the hedge.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Job Hunting
Been out there - looking for work and marvelling at the progress that has been made in HR recruiting since I worked in HR some decades ago.
First, there are the keywords. The job posting lists many things, and you have to make sure as many as possible are spelled out in your resume.
For instance, a job posting for a government position required some knowledge of fundraising. The HR consultant for the government did not understand that being the general manager of a registered federal charity for 7 years meant a background in fundraising. Because the word "fundraising" did not appear there, the HR consultant didn't see this as one of my qualifications. The fact that the position being advertised did not include any fundraising wasn't considered a valid point. Strike one.
Then there was the question of experience and knowledge of the film/television industry. The HR consultant read in my cover letter that I had some knowledge of the issues facing that industry, but he couldn't see that reflected in my resume. This is because he didn't know what it meant that I was on the local ACTRA council for 4 years, that I had worked on promotions for several television productions, and that I had even been in a few as an actor. It seems this particular HR consultant couldn't see that this meant I knew many of the people in the industry. Strike two.
And then there was project management - although the HR consultant said he was able to infer that I might have some project management experience related to the non-profit sector, it wasn't clear. So a university certificate in non-profit management, seven years producing concerts, more than a decade as a publisher, and many years as a theatre producer and director, and teaching Project Lead at MacEwan for 3 years - from these he was only able to "infer" that I had project management experience. Strike three.
Were these strikes against me? No. They were strikes against an HR system which allows a consultant to disengage from their critical faculties and just scan for key words. That's what he told me he did - scanned for the key words.
Now, the bio of the successful applicant for that job showed up in my e-mail. Nothing about fundraising, far less experience in publishing than me, some experience teaching in post-secondary institutions (not unlike mine), and not a word about any connection to the film industry. Probably the successful applicant had all the keywords in their cover letter so the HR consultant didn't have to think too much - certainly didn't have to compare this lesser-qualified applicant to me. I hadn't even gotten an interview.
So the next time I dealt with that department, I not only included the keywords but I highlighted them in red, just to help the HR consultant along. It worked! I got an interview.
And the interview was long and fairly thorough, although the three members of the interview panel showed some impatience because time was tight. They asked questions that required complex answers, but they hadn't allowed time for complex answers.
After my interview, one of the questions kept nagging at me. I felt the time crush had meant the focus of my answer was not exactly what I would have liked it to be. So I sent a brief e-mail to the HR consultant and gave a 3-point message of clarification. In response, I got an e-mail saying the interview panel was unable to consider any information outside the interview.
Unable? Well, no. It's one of those new HR policies. So the job won't necessarily go to the thoughtful person who does follow-up, but to the person who scores the most hits on the tick boxes in the interview. And I already knew I'd blown it over PowerPoint. I don't use PowerPoint. Too often it is badly used - like transparencies except you don't write on them. PowerPoint seemed very important to the panel. The fact that I work in a variety of computer programs, including having done design work, word processing, spread sheets, databases, html coding, and have been the bookkeeper for organizations using Simply Accounting, Quicken and QuickBooks - well, those don't fit in the tickbox. So even if PowerPoint is not particularly hard to use, and I could and would use it if required, I will have a bad mark in that tickbox while someone with inferior computer skills who says "Oh, I'm proficient in PowerPoint!" will be seen as more competent and qualified.
Again, the HR consultant doesn't want to have to think about the candidates as individuals, each uniquely qualified. It's about filling in the tickboxes from the application and the interview. Does this approach yield better results? Yes and no. It streamlines the process for HR, making it easier for them. They don't have to use analytical skills, don't have to have prior knowledge of the field, and don't have to make judgment calls - the tickboxes are quantifiable. But it works against finding the best candidate.
The position which was open was an executive position. PowerPoint should be the least of their worries. And a candidate who follows up with prompt and concise clarification of a point he thinks may have been misinterpreted - well, that's what they should be paying attention to, because that's the kind of person they need in the job.
Every time out I learn a little more. If I were unprincipled, I would land a fabulous job for which I am only marginally qualified by crafting my responses to exactly what they want to hear. In the meantime, the jobs for which I would have been a terrific fit have gone to people who learned that game faster than I did - and all the more power to them.
First, there are the keywords. The job posting lists many things, and you have to make sure as many as possible are spelled out in your resume.
For instance, a job posting for a government position required some knowledge of fundraising. The HR consultant for the government did not understand that being the general manager of a registered federal charity for 7 years meant a background in fundraising. Because the word "fundraising" did not appear there, the HR consultant didn't see this as one of my qualifications. The fact that the position being advertised did not include any fundraising wasn't considered a valid point. Strike one.
Then there was the question of experience and knowledge of the film/television industry. The HR consultant read in my cover letter that I had some knowledge of the issues facing that industry, but he couldn't see that reflected in my resume. This is because he didn't know what it meant that I was on the local ACTRA council for 4 years, that I had worked on promotions for several television productions, and that I had even been in a few as an actor. It seems this particular HR consultant couldn't see that this meant I knew many of the people in the industry. Strike two.
And then there was project management - although the HR consultant said he was able to infer that I might have some project management experience related to the non-profit sector, it wasn't clear. So a university certificate in non-profit management, seven years producing concerts, more than a decade as a publisher, and many years as a theatre producer and director, and teaching Project Lead at MacEwan for 3 years - from these he was only able to "infer" that I had project management experience. Strike three.
Were these strikes against me? No. They were strikes against an HR system which allows a consultant to disengage from their critical faculties and just scan for key words. That's what he told me he did - scanned for the key words.
Now, the bio of the successful applicant for that job showed up in my e-mail. Nothing about fundraising, far less experience in publishing than me, some experience teaching in post-secondary institutions (not unlike mine), and not a word about any connection to the film industry. Probably the successful applicant had all the keywords in their cover letter so the HR consultant didn't have to think too much - certainly didn't have to compare this lesser-qualified applicant to me. I hadn't even gotten an interview.
So the next time I dealt with that department, I not only included the keywords but I highlighted them in red, just to help the HR consultant along. It worked! I got an interview.
And the interview was long and fairly thorough, although the three members of the interview panel showed some impatience because time was tight. They asked questions that required complex answers, but they hadn't allowed time for complex answers.
After my interview, one of the questions kept nagging at me. I felt the time crush had meant the focus of my answer was not exactly what I would have liked it to be. So I sent a brief e-mail to the HR consultant and gave a 3-point message of clarification. In response, I got an e-mail saying the interview panel was unable to consider any information outside the interview.
Unable? Well, no. It's one of those new HR policies. So the job won't necessarily go to the thoughtful person who does follow-up, but to the person who scores the most hits on the tick boxes in the interview. And I already knew I'd blown it over PowerPoint. I don't use PowerPoint. Too often it is badly used - like transparencies except you don't write on them. PowerPoint seemed very important to the panel. The fact that I work in a variety of computer programs, including having done design work, word processing, spread sheets, databases, html coding, and have been the bookkeeper for organizations using Simply Accounting, Quicken and QuickBooks - well, those don't fit in the tickbox. So even if PowerPoint is not particularly hard to use, and I could and would use it if required, I will have a bad mark in that tickbox while someone with inferior computer skills who says "Oh, I'm proficient in PowerPoint!" will be seen as more competent and qualified.
Again, the HR consultant doesn't want to have to think about the candidates as individuals, each uniquely qualified. It's about filling in the tickboxes from the application and the interview. Does this approach yield better results? Yes and no. It streamlines the process for HR, making it easier for them. They don't have to use analytical skills, don't have to have prior knowledge of the field, and don't have to make judgment calls - the tickboxes are quantifiable. But it works against finding the best candidate.
The position which was open was an executive position. PowerPoint should be the least of their worries. And a candidate who follows up with prompt and concise clarification of a point he thinks may have been misinterpreted - well, that's what they should be paying attention to, because that's the kind of person they need in the job.
Every time out I learn a little more. If I were unprincipled, I would land a fabulous job for which I am only marginally qualified by crafting my responses to exactly what they want to hear. In the meantime, the jobs for which I would have been a terrific fit have gone to people who learned that game faster than I did - and all the more power to them.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Hoops
I understand the temptation to spill all in a blog. There are several things I would love to vent about, but discretion is a virtue I must cultivate.
NEWSNEWSNEWS
On May 23rd I will receive my MFA in creative writing from UBC. It's been a process with a few glitches and it has left me much further in debt than I have ever been in my life, but there it is. So I would like to thank the profs who guided me through the shoals of the workshop-based MFA, in no particular order:
Susan Musgrave, who never failed to take my work seriously even when I wasn't sure poetry was "my thing".
Gail Anderson-Dargatz, who challenged me to get out of my head.
Terry Glavin, whose regard for Orwell will never be forgotten.
Glen Huser, who put together a workshop which challenged, excited and encouraged.
Sara Graefe, my thesis supervisor who showed great insight, flexibility and grace.
I have been very fortunate to have these people in my life over the past two years. The time flew, my writing improved, and I've got piles of projects on which to work.
ARMCHAIR CRITIC - Oliver!
So on Sunday Candas and I went to see Oliver! at The Citadel. Huge show - cast of over 50 (lots of kids), and a set that overwhelmed everything. I'm not going to give a report card on individual performances. If I had the ear of the directors (which I don't) I would ask a few questions:
Why take a musical in which the emotional journeys are all so fragile, and the scenes so distilled, and then overwhelm it with a massive mobile set that takes the combined energies of the entire cast to move? My heart goes out to Krista Monson for valiant attempts at choreography on a nightmare stage.
Why make Fagin look so old when his song makes it clear 70 is distant?
What was said to Nancy, Fagin and Sykes about their solo numbers that led to ineffective staging and musical choices? These are accomplished performers, but they are not well-served here. Please give Fagin some stage and musical support in his number; please remind Sykes that a tense closed throat doesn't "read" as menace when it chokes off much of the sound; please encourage an actual journey in Nancy's reprise instead of a blasted belt from beginning to end (impressive, but it didn't serve the drama). Please support your title character in finding the notes.
I know these performers. If they are well directed, they can deliver top-notch theatre. And maybe there wasn't time for personal direction, given the logistics of the set. But I am tired of seeing fine performers like John Ullyatt in roles that don't suit them. Or Larry Yachimec (whose Actor's Nightmare remains on my list of favourite performances of all time) playing down his strengths for bland choices.
ARMCHAIR CRITIC - Verdi's Macbeth
Edmonton Opera tackled their first Macbeth recently with a charming disregard for text. The bearded witches were not bearded, Fleance jumps on the back of attackers (apparently this has to do with a miscued curtain which was then allowed to stay in the show), Malcolm doesn't run away when the guards are accused of killing Duncan, and Lady Macbeth begs for night to come when the stage is already black. Macbeth calls for his armour, says they'll meet their foes in battle (and he already knows the witches' predictions are unreliable) and then we're treated to a bare-chested fighting Macbeth. Ludicrous. And we were treated to a lot of cauldrons and braziers and cutesy flash tricks. Oh, and the lady-in-waiting did double duty as the head witch - which made a laughingstock of her later scene with Seaton where she sings about how distressing Lady M's behaviour is. The peril of surtitles is that the whole audience, not just the Italians, can read the text and see the discrepancy with what's happening on stage.
And the banquet scene - Macbeth at the downstage end of the table so everything has to be delivered upstage? And Lady M's sprightly "Everything is fine!" music quite ignored in the direction? And the scene starting out with as much celebratory cheer as the Oilers' dressingroom after the final game of the 2006 Stanley Cup... And what's with making the male leads fall down so much, and so early in their scenes that they then have to deliver wads of the scene propped up on their elbows?
Don't ask me why so many people wandering through the forest at night are doing so without aid of a lantern or candle. I'd love to hear what Brian Webb has to say about the process. Webb was credited for the chorus movement in one of the most statically-staged choruses in memory - the artfully posed witches were less threatening or interesting than your standard Zellers matrons, and in some places the chorus was left standing around the stage looking for all the world like they were waiting for someone - anyone - to give them something to do.
But like Oliver!, it was a production focussed on the set. In this case it was the flying scrims and their projections. How annoying. Especially with such fine singers in the leads.
Director Michael Kavanagh has given Edmonton some amazing operatic moments - Rake's Progress had stunning visuals (although some questionable other elements). So what happened here? Too many clever people at the production end and not enough attention to the basics?
NEWSNEWSNEWS
On May 23rd I will receive my MFA in creative writing from UBC. It's been a process with a few glitches and it has left me much further in debt than I have ever been in my life, but there it is. So I would like to thank the profs who guided me through the shoals of the workshop-based MFA, in no particular order:
Susan Musgrave, who never failed to take my work seriously even when I wasn't sure poetry was "my thing".
Gail Anderson-Dargatz, who challenged me to get out of my head.
Terry Glavin, whose regard for Orwell will never be forgotten.
Glen Huser, who put together a workshop which challenged, excited and encouraged.
Sara Graefe, my thesis supervisor who showed great insight, flexibility and grace.
I have been very fortunate to have these people in my life over the past two years. The time flew, my writing improved, and I've got piles of projects on which to work.
ARMCHAIR CRITIC - Oliver!
So on Sunday Candas and I went to see Oliver! at The Citadel. Huge show - cast of over 50 (lots of kids), and a set that overwhelmed everything. I'm not going to give a report card on individual performances. If I had the ear of the directors (which I don't) I would ask a few questions:
Why take a musical in which the emotional journeys are all so fragile, and the scenes so distilled, and then overwhelm it with a massive mobile set that takes the combined energies of the entire cast to move? My heart goes out to Krista Monson for valiant attempts at choreography on a nightmare stage.
Why make Fagin look so old when his song makes it clear 70 is distant?
What was said to Nancy, Fagin and Sykes about their solo numbers that led to ineffective staging and musical choices? These are accomplished performers, but they are not well-served here. Please give Fagin some stage and musical support in his number; please remind Sykes that a tense closed throat doesn't "read" as menace when it chokes off much of the sound; please encourage an actual journey in Nancy's reprise instead of a blasted belt from beginning to end (impressive, but it didn't serve the drama). Please support your title character in finding the notes.
I know these performers. If they are well directed, they can deliver top-notch theatre. And maybe there wasn't time for personal direction, given the logistics of the set. But I am tired of seeing fine performers like John Ullyatt in roles that don't suit them. Or Larry Yachimec (whose Actor's Nightmare remains on my list of favourite performances of all time) playing down his strengths for bland choices.
ARMCHAIR CRITIC - Verdi's Macbeth
Edmonton Opera tackled their first Macbeth recently with a charming disregard for text. The bearded witches were not bearded, Fleance jumps on the back of attackers (apparently this has to do with a miscued curtain which was then allowed to stay in the show), Malcolm doesn't run away when the guards are accused of killing Duncan, and Lady Macbeth begs for night to come when the stage is already black. Macbeth calls for his armour, says they'll meet their foes in battle (and he already knows the witches' predictions are unreliable) and then we're treated to a bare-chested fighting Macbeth. Ludicrous. And we were treated to a lot of cauldrons and braziers and cutesy flash tricks. Oh, and the lady-in-waiting did double duty as the head witch - which made a laughingstock of her later scene with Seaton where she sings about how distressing Lady M's behaviour is. The peril of surtitles is that the whole audience, not just the Italians, can read the text and see the discrepancy with what's happening on stage.
And the banquet scene - Macbeth at the downstage end of the table so everything has to be delivered upstage? And Lady M's sprightly "Everything is fine!" music quite ignored in the direction? And the scene starting out with as much celebratory cheer as the Oilers' dressingroom after the final game of the 2006 Stanley Cup... And what's with making the male leads fall down so much, and so early in their scenes that they then have to deliver wads of the scene propped up on their elbows?
Don't ask me why so many people wandering through the forest at night are doing so without aid of a lantern or candle. I'd love to hear what Brian Webb has to say about the process. Webb was credited for the chorus movement in one of the most statically-staged choruses in memory - the artfully posed witches were less threatening or interesting than your standard Zellers matrons, and in some places the chorus was left standing around the stage looking for all the world like they were waiting for someone - anyone - to give them something to do.
But like Oliver!, it was a production focussed on the set. In this case it was the flying scrims and their projections. How annoying. Especially with such fine singers in the leads.
Director Michael Kavanagh has given Edmonton some amazing operatic moments - Rake's Progress had stunning visuals (although some questionable other elements). So what happened here? Too many clever people at the production end and not enough attention to the basics?
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
End of Term
School is done! And in short order I will have my MFA in Creative Writing from UBC, which will then mean I can... ummm...
Now I have to polish the manuscripts and get them out there, along with the 3-Day Novel manuscript. But first on the agenda is finding paying work. This is critical, since I have a mortgage and my tuition is clogging up the credit card.
School is almost done! All I have to do is grade the exams for Project Lead, mark the remaining papers for Distilled Prose, and then I can... ummm... look for gainful employment?
Mozart coming up in a month with the Bow Valley Chorus in Calgary and Canmore. With any luck, this will make up for having to miss the St. John Passion. And I'm also hoping Pro Coro Canada can find a way to record the Allan Bevan piece over the next year.
The Finesse bottles are cropping up in our backyard - more reliable than the crocuses. And the gaggle of the homeless that hang out in the empty lot are back. The spring winds are blowing a daily load of garbage in. Tonight we bought all the bags of topsoil left at Save-On so we can dig out part of the backyard and see if we can't get something decent growing there. Right now it's a mat of early weeds, with the chamomile already budding.
Looks like the giant sequoia didn't make it. I took a chance on it, burying the young tree's pot in the spot where I dug up the dead magnolia last fall. I don't seem to have much luck with trees. Not an arborist. I knew the sequoia might not make it, but I was tired of babying it. If I try again, I think I'll plant the tree in the river valley in a spot where it might have a fighting chance.
Tonight there was a panel on homelessness at City Hall. Several speakers, varying degrees of passion and clarity. Candas Dorsey got up and made some points about concrete ways in which the problem could be addressed while empowering the homeless. Many people have made housing their profession, and they have a vested interest in keeping the status quo. It is a foreign concept to allow poor people to have control over their own housing options!
Now I have to polish the manuscripts and get them out there, along with the 3-Day Novel manuscript. But first on the agenda is finding paying work. This is critical, since I have a mortgage and my tuition is clogging up the credit card.
School is almost done! All I have to do is grade the exams for Project Lead, mark the remaining papers for Distilled Prose, and then I can... ummm... look for gainful employment?
Mozart coming up in a month with the Bow Valley Chorus in Calgary and Canmore. With any luck, this will make up for having to miss the St. John Passion. And I'm also hoping Pro Coro Canada can find a way to record the Allan Bevan piece over the next year.
The Finesse bottles are cropping up in our backyard - more reliable than the crocuses. And the gaggle of the homeless that hang out in the empty lot are back. The spring winds are blowing a daily load of garbage in. Tonight we bought all the bags of topsoil left at Save-On so we can dig out part of the backyard and see if we can't get something decent growing there. Right now it's a mat of early weeds, with the chamomile already budding.
Looks like the giant sequoia didn't make it. I took a chance on it, burying the young tree's pot in the spot where I dug up the dead magnolia last fall. I don't seem to have much luck with trees. Not an arborist. I knew the sequoia might not make it, but I was tired of babying it. If I try again, I think I'll plant the tree in the river valley in a spot where it might have a fighting chance.
Tonight there was a panel on homelessness at City Hall. Several speakers, varying degrees of passion and clarity. Candas Dorsey got up and made some points about concrete ways in which the problem could be addressed while empowering the homeless. Many people have made housing their profession, and they have a vested interest in keeping the status quo. It is a foreign concept to allow poor people to have control over their own housing options!
Friday, April 13, 2007
Spring Cleaning
We got the first crocuses blooming this week, and it made me feel guilty enough to clean up the yard. The caragana hedge is a magnet for plastic grocery bags. The bags have been used by gleaners to take empty bottles and cans to the bottle depot across the way, and then they're thrown away. It's windy in this part of town, and those bags snag on the thorns of the caragana and the next thing you know they're a greying eyesore.
I deliberately left the mess in the part of the hedge that juts out onto the lot next door. Not very neighbourly of me, I admit. But the man who owns that empty lot hasn't lifted a finger to keep it clean in five years. The city crews who pass by every day on their way into the city central yards - they come out and do a cleanup a few times each summer. And I keep the hedge trimmed at the front because if I don't, the sheltered ell made by the hedge is kitted out to be someone's home.
Don't get me wrong here. I have no objection to people camping out. But this block isn't a safe place for sleeping out of doors at night.
Anyway, today I go out there and one of my neighbours from an apartment down the street is out there on the sidewalk with a shopping cart full of garbage. He's got a pick, and he's picking up all the trash from the empty lot next door.
Lots of the neighbours think we own that lot, but we don't. In the interests of neighbourliness, I thought I'd better let the man know it wasn't MY mess he was cleaning up.
Of course, he was just doing it so he wouldn't have to walk by a mess every day.
"You got a nice place there," he says, nodding at my old house. "Shame to have this mess beside it when you keep it looking so nice."
It does look nice today. The sun is out and glinting on the three glass cloches in the yard, and we have those brave little crocuses, and the rhodos made it through the winter, and the rose canes are showing signs of greening, and I pruned the caragana back hard in the middle of the winter.
I thanked the man. His name is Raymond. And he just wants the street to look nice. But even Raymond has limits.
"Over there," he says, waving at the south side of the street, "they can look after their own garbage. Would you lookit that? Coffee cups, wrappers... I don't mind picking up a few things on this side of the street, especially for the old lady there. But I'm not going across the street."
I deliberately left the mess in the part of the hedge that juts out onto the lot next door. Not very neighbourly of me, I admit. But the man who owns that empty lot hasn't lifted a finger to keep it clean in five years. The city crews who pass by every day on their way into the city central yards - they come out and do a cleanup a few times each summer. And I keep the hedge trimmed at the front because if I don't, the sheltered ell made by the hedge is kitted out to be someone's home.
Don't get me wrong here. I have no objection to people camping out. But this block isn't a safe place for sleeping out of doors at night.
Anyway, today I go out there and one of my neighbours from an apartment down the street is out there on the sidewalk with a shopping cart full of garbage. He's got a pick, and he's picking up all the trash from the empty lot next door.
Lots of the neighbours think we own that lot, but we don't. In the interests of neighbourliness, I thought I'd better let the man know it wasn't MY mess he was cleaning up.
Of course, he was just doing it so he wouldn't have to walk by a mess every day.
"You got a nice place there," he says, nodding at my old house. "Shame to have this mess beside it when you keep it looking so nice."
It does look nice today. The sun is out and glinting on the three glass cloches in the yard, and we have those brave little crocuses, and the rhodos made it through the winter, and the rose canes are showing signs of greening, and I pruned the caragana back hard in the middle of the winter.
I thanked the man. His name is Raymond. And he just wants the street to look nice. But even Raymond has limits.
"Over there," he says, waving at the south side of the street, "they can look after their own garbage. Would you lookit that? Coffee cups, wrappers... I don't mind picking up a few things on this side of the street, especially for the old lady there. But I'm not going across the street."
Friday, April 6, 2007
Bach to the Blues
Do you suppose the universe won't let you play Pilate and Jesus in the same week? Is that breaking a religious code? I was supposed to sing Pilate in Bach's St. John Passion last weekend, and I'm playing Jesus on Good Friday. Both concerts were at the prestigious Winspear Centre, but for different musical organizations.
Lo and behold, if I don't come down with a humdinger of a cold. Bad enough that I had to cancel on singing Pilate. Now, Pilate is not a very large part in the Bach. It's not as tiny as Peter or Ancilla, but it's not a stretch. I've done it before, and I like it. But even a small role needs a voice. And my cold went straight for the vocal flaps.
For the first time in 30 years as a soloist with orchestras, I had to cancel. Not even enough voice to fake it. The production was saved by the timely intervention of baritone Michael Kurschat - who has my gratitude. And my fee. But he earned it!
It's been a week. By keeping my voice low and husky and sexy - and with an excellent mic and sound man - I was still able to host the Edmonton Vocal Minority cabaret: Sizzle! What a blast! The Chickadivas sang the first set - and if you haven't heard this lively a cappella group, run out and buy a ticket to their next show. The second and third sets were various ensembles and solos from the members of Vocal Minority and EKOS, two ensembles conducted by the amazing Paula Roberts. The evening proved that there is a depth of talent in these ensembles. Who knew that our amazing human rights champion, Julie Lloyd, is also an accomplished guitarist and singer? Or that the charming preppy Terry Harris is a born crooner? Not me. There should be a law against people being attractive, smart AND talented. Harrumph.
I alwaysmanage to pronounce someone's name incorrectly. This time, I ran all over the place checking to be sure. And I still managed to screw up - on EKOS! I pronounced it "eeee-kohs". Paula slid me a piece of paper to correct it - it's supposed to be like "echoes". Now, she said it would be fine just to say it correctly the next time I got up there, but I believe in transparency.
I fessed up to the audience, and told them all EKOS rhymes with geckos. They laughed. "Those of you who are laughing," I said, "have never been to the desert at night to hear the geckos sing. They're beautiful." A couple of the EKOS members said I'd solved the problem of a suitable mascot for them.
The other day I was stopped by a woman who lives in the apartment building across the street. She saw my picture in the paper for having won the novel contest, and she wanted to show me her poetry chapbook. It was really well produced. I was on my way to the airport and didn't have time to really chat with her, but she may be a good contact for an upcoming lit series at McDougall United.
And tomorrow it's Jesus. The piece is Allan Bevan's Nou Goth Sonne Under Wode, and this will be for a CBC national radio broadcast. It's a modern masterpiece, incredibly layered and effective, full of middle English poetry and King James bible verses. At the premiere two years ago, it made the Mozart Requiem seem anemic.
This time, at the request of the composer, I have been moved offstage so I can be the disembodied voice of Jesus. It's nothing personal - the published score has performance notes which suggest this is an option.
Walking back from the dress rehearsal tonight, through that strange mix of parking lots and ethnic restaurants and rooming houses that mark the space between the ritzy hall and my house, I noticed a flattened mouse on the sidewalk outside a hotel supply store. It was curled up and as flat as a sheet of bristol board. Maybe it had been inside the building and got hammered with a frying pan.
Lo and behold, if I don't come down with a humdinger of a cold. Bad enough that I had to cancel on singing Pilate. Now, Pilate is not a very large part in the Bach. It's not as tiny as Peter or Ancilla, but it's not a stretch. I've done it before, and I like it. But even a small role needs a voice. And my cold went straight for the vocal flaps.
For the first time in 30 years as a soloist with orchestras, I had to cancel. Not even enough voice to fake it. The production was saved by the timely intervention of baritone Michael Kurschat - who has my gratitude. And my fee. But he earned it!
It's been a week. By keeping my voice low and husky and sexy - and with an excellent mic and sound man - I was still able to host the Edmonton Vocal Minority cabaret: Sizzle! What a blast! The Chickadivas sang the first set - and if you haven't heard this lively a cappella group, run out and buy a ticket to their next show. The second and third sets were various ensembles and solos from the members of Vocal Minority and EKOS, two ensembles conducted by the amazing Paula Roberts. The evening proved that there is a depth of talent in these ensembles. Who knew that our amazing human rights champion, Julie Lloyd, is also an accomplished guitarist and singer? Or that the charming preppy Terry Harris is a born crooner? Not me. There should be a law against people being attractive, smart AND talented. Harrumph.
I alwaysmanage to pronounce someone's name incorrectly. This time, I ran all over the place checking to be sure. And I still managed to screw up - on EKOS! I pronounced it "eeee-kohs". Paula slid me a piece of paper to correct it - it's supposed to be like "echoes". Now, she said it would be fine just to say it correctly the next time I got up there, but I believe in transparency.
I fessed up to the audience, and told them all EKOS rhymes with geckos. They laughed. "Those of you who are laughing," I said, "have never been to the desert at night to hear the geckos sing. They're beautiful." A couple of the EKOS members said I'd solved the problem of a suitable mascot for them.
The other day I was stopped by a woman who lives in the apartment building across the street. She saw my picture in the paper for having won the novel contest, and she wanted to show me her poetry chapbook. It was really well produced. I was on my way to the airport and didn't have time to really chat with her, but she may be a good contact for an upcoming lit series at McDougall United.
And tomorrow it's Jesus. The piece is Allan Bevan's Nou Goth Sonne Under Wode, and this will be for a CBC national radio broadcast. It's a modern masterpiece, incredibly layered and effective, full of middle English poetry and King James bible verses. At the premiere two years ago, it made the Mozart Requiem seem anemic.
This time, at the request of the composer, I have been moved offstage so I can be the disembodied voice of Jesus. It's nothing personal - the published score has performance notes which suggest this is an option.
Walking back from the dress rehearsal tonight, through that strange mix of parking lots and ethnic restaurants and rooming houses that mark the space between the ritzy hall and my house, I noticed a flattened mouse on the sidewalk outside a hotel supply store. It was curled up and as flat as a sheet of bristol board. Maybe it had been inside the building and got hammered with a frying pan.
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