Archive for Stories

March has been a bit of a bust this year weather wise with winter being pretty hard to shake. CBC kicked it off the other day announcing on the radio that last year on the same date it had been a glorious 21°C with people practically dancing in the streets and wearing t-shirts because of the weather. Compared to this years -15°C and grumpkin like transformation of people bundled up on public transport glowering into their travel mugs of burnt coffee, you’d be a bit hard pressed to believe it was Spring.

But Spring it is, and I love March, least of all because it’s my birthday month.

In past years I’d be packing my bags and getting ready to hit the road. I usually always go away for my birthday, and have spent the past three birthdays in Washington DC, New Orleans, and Las Vegas.

This year I’m staying put and I’m really looking forward to having some time off to explore the city, catch up on some half finished books, pick up where I left off with Yoga classes and just take the chance to take a breather and see where I’m at and what I want to really work on in the coming year. A spring awakening of sorts, March is really a personal New Year’s for me.

I kick off my holiday tonight with going to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds at Massey Hall with one of my good friends Nikolai. I’m ridiculously excited – it’s a beautiful venue, excellent company, and Nick Cave’s Push the Sky Away is a stunning musical work.

One of my favourite films is The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and a good reason for that is the incredible soundtrack created by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis for the film.

Time to put the laptop down and get ready to head out to the show now. Viva Spring I say, even if it is still snowy and cold out.

I’ll preface this with saying I am not Irish, I’m Canadian and in being so, am a typical Celtic Mutt – a mix of English, Irish, Scots. However family histories and stories interest me, and on St.Patrick’s Day I’d like to share this bit of history from my Irish side. There are a number of chunks missing, and what I know has been cobbled together from various sources, including from a lovely distant relative I connected with years ago through Ancestry.com

My great-great grandfather David was born in Dublin in the 1860′s to Julia (nee Lanaghan) & John Curtin.

David was one of several children, and not much is known of his early life. His family left Ireland when he was a teenager moving to an area near Liverpool called “Little Ireland”.

His father died not too long after the move to Little Ireland. One brother was later institutionalized and died in an Asylum, another brother wed, had children and settled in Liverpool. Their mother Julia died in 1897. At some point David joined the military, I’m unsure as to when, but by the age of 28, he was sent to Nova Scotia, Canada with the British Army.

It’s here that he met Adelaide, and married her. To remain in Canada, David had to “buy himself” out of the military which he did. Adelaide’s family being Protestant disowned her when she converted to Catholicism in order to marry David. She was essentially completely cut off from her large farming family in Nova Scotia, never to speak to her English father again.

The newly weds remained in the maritimes for awhile, calling New Brunswick home for years where Adelaide gave birth to several daughters. From Fredericton the family then moved westward, to Kingston, Ontario where David worked as a Carriage Driver for a Doctor, before finally settling in Toronto.

In Toronto, the family resided at 530 Carlaw Ave on the east side of the city. I actually live pretty close to their house and have wandered by on occasion. I’m not sure if it’s the original building from the 1920′s or a newer build. It’s odd to stand in front of a building that once was home to your family, a family I never knew except through stories. And in this house on Tues, May 14th, 1929 David died in his 69th year of pneumonia.

I wish I knew more about what life was like for him. I briefly visited Dublin with my Mom several years ago, and remember wandering around trying to picture what the city must have been like for David and his parents, where had they lived and where were their old stomping grounds in the city, what did they do, and what parts of the city did they love or walk by, any number of questions.

My Irish friends would often roll their eyes in regards to North Americans who would say they were Irish, when a good several generations had passed since they could claim any direct relation from the Emerald Isles. I understand both sides as to why this might be annoying, but also why North Americans can be like this.

Identity is something as a country we often struggle with, a lot of the time we define ourselves as Canadians by what we aren’t. We’re fiercely proud to be Canadian, but also proud of our ancestry be it Irish, Italian, Japanese, Polish and so on. It’s through our ancestry that we gain a deeper sense of history and understanding of who we are through these personal family histories.

I often wonder what my Irish ancestors would make of our modern day St.Patrick’s Day festivities. It’s a huge event in the city, with a large parade and people celebrating well into the wee hours clad in green and cheap fabric Leprachaun hats. I have to say I find myself rolling my eyes at how the day gets turned into an excuse to drink, I write this, as I have a pint of Guinness by my side (so trust me, my horse isn’t that high).

What I do know about St.Patrick’s Day is that I always stop and reflect on my family and the little I do know about my great-great Grandfather. He was a giant of a man with an impressive moustache, gentle, soft spoken, with a love of gardening and his many grandchildren. When my great Auntie Dot was still alive, she spoke of her Grandfather with love and respect. Maybe one day I’ll know more, but I’m happy to know the little I do at least.

2012 has come to an end, and it’s been a pretty good year. I’m excited for 2013 and have started my endless list making of things I hope to achieve in the coming year.

Looking back on 2012:

Winter

The winter months were fairly quiet and full of hibernation for the most part.

At work I assisted with the creation of our Spring Photoshoot concept with the talented Scott Newlands and Andrea Jaggs, including prop and set dressing which was loads of fun.

Travel wise -

Dear USA, I was in you quite a lot wasn’t I? No transatlantic trips back to the Motherland sponsored by work this year sadly (man do I crave a proper cup of Yorkshire Gold Tea and a Hob Nob!), but plenty of cross border fun.

Spring

Jeff and I spent my Birthday in Las Vegas. It was all sorts of silly fun, including a trip to a most awesome Burlesque Hall of Fame.

For Easter we trekked up to Northern Ontario (plaid shirts and drinking at a bar called “The Moose” totally obligatory, insert Neil Young soundtrack here). Road trips = getting to play DJ for several hours and a great excuse to listen to new tunes.

Spring also saw the start of film fests for me and I was pretty busy catching docs at HotDocs and a few silents during the Toronto Silent Film Fest.

Vacation for a week in DC hanging out with one of my best friends, Diana. It sucks we don’t live in the same city but I’m super blessed to have friends like her in the first place despite the distance. Who else would rigg up a projector so we could hang out watching Star Trek on the ceiling as we fell asleep? Geek-Slumber-Party!

Diana also introduced me to Paleo/Primal eating, and personally I haven’t felt better than when I’m following it properly.

Summer

A last minute call from my friend Davie X resulted in crossing the border yet again, this time to Detroit Rock City to catch Danzig (and Doyle, OMG Misfits!) perform. It was an incredible gig albeit a bit nuts driving for 4 hours, 6 hours in Detroit and then another 4 hours home, but very well worth it (plus delicious 1am tacos).

Literally the day after seeing Danzig, Jeff and I were off to the Phoenix to catch the Dandy Warhol’s in Toronto, stellar show as well and a perfect cap to a gig filled weekend.

Einstein on the Beach at the Luminato Festival blew me away. Robert Wilson & Philip Glass’ opera in four acts, (a masterpiece no less than 4 hours) was a breathtaking, sumptuous production to see.

Fringe Festival time! Of note seeing Shakey Shake and Friends witty, endearing and just plain fun performance of The Tempest…a puppet epic!

Gig wise in addition to Danzig, I also saw Trust, and Refused (who played two sold out shows at the Sound Academy). It was an epic show years in the making, what with Refused having never played Canada before.

Back stateside again, this time with my Canadian chum Mishelle to meet up with Diana for some NYC antics. I finally got to go to my first Disko Nouveaux and saw some stunning art by Kris Kuksi at the Joshua Liner Gallery.

Fall

TIFF (the Toronto International Film Festival) takes over the city (and my evenings and weekends!)

I assist with planning and the execution again of a photoshoot campaign for work, this time for Holiday 2012 with Senior Graphic Designer extraordinaire Andrea Jaggs.

Grounded! Well from flying that is. Our annual trip to NYC during Canadian Thanksgiving cancelled thanks to Bronchitis. Miss Adam Ant in NYC too, absolutely gutted and spend a week in bed.

Luckily, two weeks later I was well enough to trek down to NYC for the Blogcademy. I was determined not to miss the workshop run by what has since been described as the “Holy Trinity of Blogging” – being Nubby Twiglet, Rock N’ Roll Bride, and Gala Darling.

A definite highlight of my year, and continuing to inspire on into 2013!

Steven Severin (of the Bromley Contingent and co-founding member of Siouxsie and the Banshees) performs his original score to Carl Theodor Dreyer’s 1932 silent classic “The Vampyr” in an intimate, velvet bedecked venue. Doubley glad to have finally seen Severin perform one of his haunting silent film scores, and to see my lovely (and very talented!) friend Rik’s group Kalte open that evening.

December

A bittersweet start to winter  with the death of our family dog, Spender. He was part of our family for 15 happy years, and is sorely missed.

After some pretty nerve wracking weeks at the end of November into December due to a Breast Cancer scare, the results come back as benign (Ladies! Check your breasts!) I always try to be thankful for what I have, and this recent event has hit that home even further.

Subsequently a very quiet, but happymaking Christmas full of love, cartoons and too much chocolate.

Some of the things on my 2013 list?

More Silent Films, Theatre, HotDoc’ing, Yoga, and really make a start on knitting that Dr.Who scarf, just to list a few!

So Enter the Year of the Snake! (Ok yes, really Feb 10th but still!)

When I was a teenager I was shocked to meet people who said they didn’t believe in Remembrance Day because they felt it celebrated the act of war. This angered me and to this day I feel very strongly about that comment. Remembrance Day is just that – a day to remember. Not the so-called “glories of war”, but the people, the stories, the events and everything they went through.

I never had the chance to know my Canadian Grandparents, my grandmother died at 47 of Breast Cancer and Alzheimer’s ravaged my Grandfather.  Few photos and personal effects remain. Their stories have been passed down over and over again in my family, and I know of their goodness through the love of my Mother and Aunts and Uncles.

Like many couples of a certain generation, they met and married during WWII.

My Grandfather Gerry, the youngest of three, with shining blue eyes was always described as an outgoing showman who would MC events and loved to dance and sing. He was the type of man who would dress up at Christmas as Santa Claus for community events, and knew how to cook a mean Turkey.

When the war started, he tried to sign up with his older brother but was turned away since he was so slight and didn’t weigh enough. He looked for any service that would take him, wanting to do something to help his country. The Merchant Navy signed him on, and off he went serving as a Cook on cargo ships, long and treacherous journeys across the ocean delivering desperately need supplies to troops.

Canadian Merchant Navy veterans were denied benefits and official recognition for years by the Canadian Government. When this was finally rectified my Grandfather was long dead. The men of the Merchant Navy spent long days and nights on those ships, sitting ducks, travelling to deliver troops and supplies, watching their buddies on other ships in the dark being blown up, never knowing when or if they would be next.

I have a few tattered postcards from my Grandfather that he sent home, and various stories of his misadventures around the world, some of which I couldn’t repeat in polite company. One story though which I can, was apparently when they landed in Egypt, the men weren’t allowed off the boat. However my Grandfather was determined. After months of travel onboard a ship in very hot and sunny climates my Grandfather was very dark and tanned. He somehow acquired a Fez and local dress, and when he donned this garb was able to pass as a local and sneak into the country. I couldn’t imagine this happening today.

My Grandmother Edna, was a Canadian “Rosie the Riveter” working in a Munitions plant in Montreal during the course of the war. In the days she worked in the factory, and at night would be off dancing. A kind hearted woman, who in later life despite being equally poor, would help others in need and protected a mentally disabled man who was routinely beaten up and picked on in the community.

Gerry and Edna met on a blind date, set up by Mother’s Uncle by Marriage, who subsequently ended up being quite the matchmaker, in setting up my parents and another Aunt and Uncle as well.

The date went well, more followed, and then an engagement.

Gerry sent word to his brother Francis about the coming marriage, as did Edna to her several brothers who were serving as part of the Stormont, Dundas and Glengarry Highlanders.

The story goes, that one night over dinner the two sets of brothers were talking about letters from home they’d received.

“My Baby Brother’s getting married!“

“Congratulations! Our little Sister is getting married too!“

“Really? That’s great news! We’ll be on leave when the ceremony takes place, and my Brother’s asked me to be his Best Man.“

“Oh yeah? Same, we’ll be back in Canada for Edna’s wedding too.“

“That’s funny, my brothers fiancée is called Edna…“

And from there the conversation continued until they realized that their siblings were marrying one another. Bonds formed serving together deepened with the family connection. So far from home and the news of a wedding and promised happier times.

Today, I remember them with love.

I’ve never met these people who I owe my existence and way of life to, but because of the vibrant story telling tradition within my Canadian family I know them well. From my Mad Uncle climbing a flagpole during the liberation of the Netherlands to take down a Nazi flag while being shot at, to my Grandfather’s Hijinks around the world, and my party girl Grandmother – strong-willed, working so hard in a factory yet still managing to look glamorous with flowers in her hair, today and always - Je me souviens.