The 10 Yard Diet

Last night, aged 53, I did something very simple that billions around the world have been doing for millennia, but I had never done before: I ate a vegetable grown by my own hand!

Until Susan and I bought this house of ours I had never lived anywhere with a yard boasting a soiled area where fruit or vegetables could be grown, or indeed anywhere with enough space to install raised beds to do so. But this place is on a large lot with a good area of rich soil, so this spring and summer we have gradually been transforming what was a weed-infested jungle into a viable garden, and planting vegetables as we go. It has been back-breaking work, and there is still a hell of a lot of work to do to finish the job, certainly carrying us into next year, but the important thing is we have started and made a lot of progress. We are both total beginners at this, so learning as we go, and as a city boy I am surprising myself at how much I enjoy it. I am finding it good for the soul, and thoroughly enjoy working up a sweat to create results bringing me a true sense of achievement. 

To start we have put in pumpkins, rutabaga, lettuce, carrots, broccoli and zucchini. (We also have separate tomato plants on the deck, and a herb garden in window boxes out front.) Next year, erecting trellises where needed, we are thinking of more of the same, as well as potatoes, turnips, runner beans, peas, kiwis and more; there's plenty of room for a whole bunch of great foods that will be totally organic, and also save us a load of money in the long run.

I've been diligently looking after our vegetable patch, giving it a good daily soak and encouragingly talking to the veg as one does. Lo and behold, bug issues aside, they have thus far been a real success, especially the zucchini. As the photo above joyously illustrates, last night Susan picked the two largest - leaving the remainder to grow even bigger - and we had one with roast chicken for dinner. Susan sliced it up, drizzled it with olive oil, sprinkled it with homegrown oregano and cilantro, and we cooked it on the BBQ. (See below.) It was, in a word, DELICIOUS!

The best vegetables I have ever tasted have come straight out of the host's garden, and our green babies proved no exception. Tonight, we pick a couple of lettuces as the basis of our salad, and have no doubt it will be the best lettuce we've ever had. If it isn't, we'll pretend it is, just because we grew it.

      

The Wisdom of Natalie Bohrn

Susan and I are huge fans of the Canadian folk-rock band, Fish & Bird. When poking about online today I stumbled across a Brandon University profile of their brilliant (upright) bass player, Natalie Bohrn. When asked to comment on her philosophy on life, she had the following to say; I think it's beautiful.

 

 "The pursuit of greatness is, as far as I can tell, an ego-driven endeavour that can only satisfy so long as you can fool yourself into thinking that you’re going somewhere. You’re not — you’re just living out your laughably short moment of existence, along with 7 billion other talking water balloons on legs, all hurtling through the universe on a tiny rock in a tiny bubble (which we are lucky to have!) Pursue happiness instead. Take what talents you have and satisfy your innate truths and desires; more importantly, help the people around you live as happily as possible. Realize that the sum total of humanity will amount to nothing, really — a bunch of immortal plastic bags floating around in the Pacific ocean at most — and the best possible outcome of your beautiful little life will be the fact that you comforted, connected, loved, and lived happily in this blip of a moment we call a lifetime."

Relay for Life

 

I write this on Sunday June 15th, feeling very proud today. Proud, and a bit achy. Starting on Friday 13th at 7:00pm, as a member of Island Radio's "Pirate Radio" team I walked through the night at Nanaimo's Relay for Life, a fundraising event for the Canadian Cancer Society.

 

Although the event is non-competitive, without targets beyond fundraising set for any individual or team, my aim from the outset was to walk 41 laps of the NDSS Rotary Bowl's 400 metre track, meaning a fraction over ten miles. Having done that with relative ease by 2:30am I continued to walk. Including the opening survivor's lap and closing celebration circuit, I eventually completed 62 laps, or 15.4 miles, by the time the relay wrapped up at 6:30am. In doing so, due to the truly humbling support of friends, I raised $2,200 for the CCS. (At this time, when visiting my participant's page below you may see that the total is lower than that: $210 gathered in cash and cheques, donated at the event, will be accredited to my team's total. There are more donation cheques on the way, too, from as far away as The Netherlands, which should boost my total enough that I may end up as the second highest individual fundraiser, behind my committed team captain, Daryl Major. How proud we are to have two of the top five fundraisers!)

 

I genuinely view my personal relay effort as a life highlight and real achievement. One reason I feel so proud is because in doing this I feel I have gone some way to amend so many times in my life not having had the courage of my convictions, or having followed through on honourable intentions. I have been "all mouth and trousers" way too often, but not this time. I walked hard, with determination, mostly alone and lost in thought as I ate up the track. I walked for my mum, nan and uncle, the last three of my blood relatives, all claimed by cancer. I walked for departed friends, customers, personal heroes or heroines, pets and anyone I know who has been affected in any way by this terrible disease. I walked for friends going through it right now, wishing them strength and courage for their battle.

 

I have been through cancer three times myself, so know firsthand how physically and mentally challenging the experience can be. There were days during the chemotherapy treatment of my second bout in 2001 when I had never felt more ill, thinking I was on my way out. And there were times following the surgery of my last bout in 2010 when all I could do was surrender to the pain and cry. Like any major health issue, it takes a lot of guts to fight through it, so when clocking up lap after lap at the Relay for Life I gave thanks to the universe that I have been blessed with the fortitude and feistiness to have done so, as well as the friends and family without whose support there would have been times I felt like giving up.

 

The Relay for Life was an epic and emotional experience, one I came away from with hundreds of memories and images that will live with me forever. I can never forget how my team member's colleague, recently diagnosed with myeloma, struggled around a lap with his walker, buoyed by the presence of friends cheering him on. I will never forget this incredible little boy, Dexter, the grandson of customers of Susan's workplace, and possibly the youngest survivor present. He was a bundle of inspirational energy, at such a young age already thankful for every minute on earth as a gift.

 

 

I will never forget the small, middle-aged man in the black hoodie, resolutely eating up the miles on his own in the outside lane. I bumped into him on a washroom break and he told me he was walking for his mum, taken by cancer ten years prior that very day. I will never forget the Lap of Remembrance when, as the city slept around us in the middle of the night, everyone walked with lit candles in silent solidarity in tribute to those we have lost.

 

I will never forget so much. Brave souls currently undergoing energy-sapping chemotherapy, pacing around the track with proud, beaming smiles; young parents pushing strollers for miles as their babies slept; the fun stuff, like limbo competitions and three-legged laps; the guy dancing laps in a Wolverine costume; the young man who ran laps solidly for over two hours; the visits from dear friends who walked laps with us; the hundreds of luminaries illuminating the inner rim of track... the games and laughter, the grieving and tears.

 

Rain had been forecast to fall at some stage, with an 80% Probability of Precipitation. It did rain... but on the very last lap. Just a few drops fell as everyone remaining walked the last 400 metres before heading wearily home. It felt symbolic, like collectively we had beaten cancer for those twelve hours, but that via the raindrops it had to have the final word. We didn't care, as if there had been monsoon-like conditions for the entire time the spirit of all concerned could in no way have been dampened.

 

The fact remains, however, that for the foreseeable future, until somehow a cure is found, that cancer will continue to have the final word. The fight goes on to find that cure and every cent towards it is precious. The fundraising continues unabated and therefore my Relay for Life page remains open for donations until the fall. If you would like to give it will be gratefully received:

 

http://convio.cancer.ca/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFL_BC_even_?px=5953718&pg=personal&fr_id=16008

 

Thank you.

 

 

For Drummers Everywhere

 

I don't tend to watch too many music promo videos these days. Life is busy enough as it is without my parking myself in front of YouTube for endless hours to do so. And although I appreciate that the visuals can often enhance the music, I feel they can also detract from its quality. And, after all, I'm going to listen to CDs as I move about my home doing chores or whatever, not watching YouTube as I go. Every now and again, however, I will stumble across a video that is an utter delight, as is the case with the promo clip for "Milwaukee" by The Both.

 

I've always held a place in my heart for Aimee Mann as a songwriter and as a very attractive woman (who is looking amazing for 53), so was interested to see her team up with veteran indie rocker Ted Leo as The Both. From the evidence of "Milwaukee" alone, it seems like a winning power pop formula, but the video for the song has everything! It tells a great little tale; it's as funny as hell, and also really touching, so I shed tears of laughter and sadness as its story unfolded. Just beautiful... but it does little to improve the widely held belief that all drummers are unreliable maniacs! 

Look Up

There are few words I can or need add to this. Brilliant, beautiful and echoing my opinion to the letter. For years people have thought me a luddite or whiny for my thoughts on modern "communication" technology, but 'Look Up' goes a way to explain exactly why. The sad irony is that most people of the millions that have viewed this will likely have done so on their 'devices,' while walking along the street.

Take heed, people.

Bullets

Despite the fact it was probably Nanaimo's warmest, sunniest day of 2014 to date, Wednesday April 30 will forever haunt the city's residents as one of its darkest. At around 7:00am, Kevin Douglas Addison entered Western Forest Products mill with a shotgun, killing two men and wounding two others. One of the wounded was shot in the face. Addison was arrested and tonight charged with two counts of first degree murder and two of attempted murder.

Since moving to Nanaimo in December 2006 we have grown to love the place. It's certainly rough around the edges with a tough history, but it has a real sense of community, warmth and civility that we deeply appreciate. One reason we like it here is because it feels safe. Sure, like anywhere the city has sketchy areas, but overall it's pretty cool. Any and every society experiences violence, and Nanaimo is no exception, but it is rare that anything truly shocking occurs. Yet when it does, everyone feels it, just as we did today.

I learned the news from a born-and-bred Nanaimo musician, who came into the store greatly agitated about the incident. I couldn't believe what he told me. Four people shot?! Two dead? Really? It's surreal to hear such news in Nanaimo, at least in my limited experience of seven-and-a-half years' living here. But I saw just how real it was when visiting the Nanaimo Daily News website on the store's computer. The news was breaking; details were scant yet emerging, but two dead were confirmed. 

Such an act of extreme violence - at least by this sleepy Vancouver Island city's 'standards' - is bound to provoke immediate widespread discussion, especially amongst those that grew up here. I was myself horrified and distressed, genuinely feeling a shockwave of disbelief as it moved through the store, from the outside world via several upset and bewildered customers. It was, of course, mentioned frequently, but it was particularly heartbreaking to witness the reaction of my young colleague, himself born and raised in Nanaimo. He was clearly shocked and raging within at the senselessness of the act, struggling to understand the barbarity us humans can - and so often do - unleash upon each other in the name of what the fuck.

For much of the remainder of the day we talked about this between us, and with customers who had entered the store, obviously affected, some seemingly relieved to talk to us about it. Seething with anger and sorrow, we solemnly exchanged thoughts about how the deceased men - one of whom had 34 years of service to his company behind him - might have kissed their loved ones goodbye in the morning or previous evening, gone off to work to earn money to feed their families, and will never be going home. It was almost too much to bear thinking about this, the nature and ramifications of the crime hitting home very hard for both of us. 

"A lot of people in this town will be just a few steps removed from someone they know that's affected by this nightmare." These were the words of a stunningly beautiful and charming young woman, who provided a brief yet most welcome distraction from the grimness of the day. The proverbial light, she, too, was visibly shaken, and these kind of staff-customer encounters continued sporadically throughout the day. It was a tough one, for sure, and there was a lot of welling up at various points.

In the worst imaginable circumstances I felt truly connected to Nanaimo today. I felt grief as a member of this community, and shared it with people that have lived here their whole lives. In some ways the experience brought great comfort, the fact that I truly belong and need to be here really smacking me in the face. Yet I never want to feel that in this way again.

My condolences go out to the families, friends and coworkers of the four men gunned down today. Your community is behind you. 

Peace, Love and All That Good Stuff

Tomorrow, April 2, 2014, marks a year since we moved into our 'new' house; that's it above, taken during February's 'snowpocalypse.' The last twelve months have positively flown by, and it's been an extremely pleasurable time gradually making improvements and beautifying the house according to our needs and tastes. We have grand plans for our home, so upgrades will continue for some years yet, and we're thoroughly enjoying the process.

It's a lovely building to live in, and as a former recording studio there's a tangible magic in the air here, with local music history oozing from every brick. In many ways, because of this, it's a real honour to be the new owners.

It's wonderful that we have friends who have recorded here down the years, and as time goes by we find out about more musicians that have created something in our basement - now our living room, music library and (currently) store room - where the studio was once housed. Just last week I met a woman in my workplace who brought us copies of her new CD to sell. In the credits she wishes a peaceful rest to the former studio owner, who was locally loved and known for his catchphrase, "Peace, love, and all that good stuff." Also in the credits it states that some of the CD was recorded in our house. As it happens, by sheer chance, having looked at my professional website this lady now wants me to create some publicity materials for her new release. So, we meet tomorrow, on that First Anniversary, to discuss that. She'll come over to the house, creating a beautiful synchronicity to proceedings. Everything is dovetailing.

Yeah, without doubt, this house was always meant to become ours one day. Its history is opening doors to opportunities and fortuitous meetings, and we cannot help wonder where it will all lead!