With Thanks, a Tough Goodbye

Last Thursday, May 12, a Memorial Service was held for my dear friend Bruce Lee, ‘Mon Oncle’ as I sometimes called him.

Bruce lived in Toronto and I am currently living in New Brunswick. Once again not only the pain of saying goodbye to a friend, but of not having seen them, shared a meal or outing for many months. Phone calls, e-mails and letters help but are rarely a true connection.  Too often while I have lived one side of the ocean or the other or in another province this has happened; the heart-ache never lessens.

Bruce would have celebrated his 95^th birthday in November, and celebrate is one word all his friends would have used about his life. An amazing home renovator-re-builder, stained glass artist, self-taught craftsman in many media, he was able to bring a master’s touch to every project he worked on, and they were many.

Born in Alberta, Bruce grew up on his family’s farm during the hardscrabble days of the Depression. As you can see he was a good-looking young man, and stayed handsome. One of three boys he was interested in the quilts of those days; the patterns and fabrics. A detailed description of these early years is related in his memoir, self-published when he was 92.

I first met Bruce and Joyce, his wife, almost 30 years ago when we all lived in Guelph. They were across the street neighbours who quickly became good friends. After Bruce had come east and worked in Montreal and Toronto, and travelled a great deal, they came to Guelph and bought Duncan McPhee Interiors, located in a lovely mid-nineteenth century building. From this ideal location Bruce and Joyce sold exceptional furniture, upholstered and wood, sophisticated home accessories and gifts as well as art and framing supplies.

Most of the wallpaper and curtains in my Guelph house were from the Lee’s store. I still have some of the curtains and as I look around our home here just about all the artwork has Duncan McPhee frames. Tonight at dinner I remembered buying the place mats on a trip to Elora with Bruce, probably on a visit when living back in Britain. Bruce also persuaded me to buy the blue and white striped sheets we sleep in.

We shared a mutual love of art, the arts – Joyce, like me, loved ballet – and antiques. My first foray into selling antiques at the well-known Aberfoyle Antique Market outside Guelph was supported and success inquired after. Later when I expanded to Toronto’s Harbour Front and other locations Bruce advised and sometimes helped with small restoration jobs.  Through this I met the Canadian war artist Will Ogilvie and his wife, who lived behind the Lees, and sold some items for them as well as buying from them myself.

This photograph was taken visiting my former antiques partner Frances who had moved to Warkworth, Ontario

Bruce modestly said he was “handy with tools”. Possibly the understatement of the century. From the renovation, almost a re-design, of

Liverpool Street

, the Lees lived in a multi-storey town house in Toronto before moving to a period house on

Wright Avenue

. There Bruce made forty windows many with stained glass, built a new garage with a two-storey addition above, finally giving Joyce her weaving room.  Lastly there was Stonegate, where we once again marvelled at his amazing and meticulous work that transformed a basic house. The man was handy!

Joyce and Bruce bought a small home in Dunedin, Florida and we were fortunate to visit there. Bruce loved a bargain and outlets as much as I do, so it was always happy hunting.

Sadly Joyce died in Florida, while Bruce was driving her to hospital. Once again I was in Britain when this happened. On a visit later he gave me some of her weaving wool and pieces she had woven. Treasured.

‘Mon oncle’ came into being one time I was visiting from Britain. Out for dinner I knew it would be almost impossible to persuade Bruce to allow me to pay, to repay him for his hospitality and friendship. As we ordered our wine I went to the ladies room, an excuse to tell our waiter I would do the same after dinner and would he have the bill ready, as ‘my uncle’ would certainly want to pay. The ruse worked perfectly. Though Bruce did admit as we left laughing he had wondered about my waterworks.

The most important day we shared was when Bruce escorted me down the aisle in Guelph to marry my husband Gary. A happy day. A good memory.

Many good memories. Thank you, Bruce.

Of princes, presidents, parliamentarians, and presents

A week of history-making of major significance, magnificence and achievement.

A week in which a small thoughtful gift gave me great pleasure, and hope.

Last week I wrote about spending the royal wedding day antiquing with a friend. After a surfeit of pre-wedding photos, biographies, histories, analysis and speculation, the ‘big’ day seemed almost an anti-climax. In any case I knew it would be shown again and again, should I want to see any of the celebrations.

Don’t get me wrong, I am in favour of the monarchy. Of the continuity of history, the stability, the holding together of a nation above the petty divide of party politics, the enduring mystique and pageantry.

After all I spent my childhood and formative early adult years in Britain. Though as a Welshwoman I was always hoping for a green passport with a red dragon emblazoned on it. 

The Queen herself says it is a job, upholding the commitment and legacy of the family firm; which she does with grace, fortitude and an air of apparent unfaltering interest.  I wish the new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, a city I lived close to and know well, all happiness, I just find it impossible to be interested in the minutiae of everyday royal lives. Of the glimpses of the wedding I caught, what moved me most was the glory of Westminster Cathedral, its soaring architecture testament to centuries of belief.

The remainder of the seven days past were about defying the odds on terrorism, on securing a mandate to lead a country. About partisanship, about glory. Whether recognising the end of bin Laden’s terror-focused life or the sea-change in Canadian politics, there is always the right versus left, elephant versus donkey, red versus blue that frequently becomes bigger than the real achievement or outcome. And neither am I remotely interested in the daily lives of politicians, presidents or prime ministers. So often the early hopes dim and fade, the colours lose their initial brightness, the music fades away.

The enduring image of my week is the picture at the beginning of this week’s diary.

One of my students recently went to visit his family in Japan. They are safe but he witnessed his country in deep sadness and loss. Though as he said the Japanese people have found strength and survived through unimaginable horrors before.

With all this on his mind he still had the graceful thought to bring me back a gift, of incense. I lit it as a prayer for peace.

A Different Prince or How I Spent 'The Wedding' Day

An early riser only in the most exceptional cases, I knew a 4 or 5 am wake–up was not going to happen last Friday. By the time I’d bathed and washed my hair the happy couple were leaving Westminster Abbey.

Besides I had other plans. By 10 am my friend Pauline Duguay and I were on the road to Prince Edward Island, a trip we had been planning for some time. The 12.9 km foot bridge soared ahead as we approached under cloudy skies.

Pauline owns one of my very favourite shops –Boutique Recycl’ Art & Antiques on John Street in Moncton. This shop is a visual delight, every space on two floors filled with furniture and useful and decorative items from past decades. I've written aboout the shop in a previous series 'My Favourite Places' (knowmoncton.com/favorite-places) and it was one of my choices in my feature 'Shops etc' for Style at Home, October 2010.

A 1930’s building, formerly a grocers and barbershop with an upstairs apartment, it is a perfect, creative and artistic example of today’s mantra: ‘Reuse, Restore, Recycle’. Whenever anyone asks her what’s new in the store, Pauline always says “Nothing; everything I have is old, some of it’s made new again.”

These days ‘useful’ pieces are eagerly sought. Armoires, cupboards, shelves, tables with drawers and shelves leave her store as fast as she can find them. Pauline spends hours stripping, sanding, and refinishing with stain or paint and says she loves it. She sources items from all over the Maritimes and New England, which is why we headed to the Island where she knows all the dealers and craftspeople.

As always on these trips Chester, a poodle-terrier mix and the shop’s welcoming mascot accompanied us. He loves an adventure, supervises well and wanders easily round all the shops, content while Pauline discovers old treasures big and small.

Friday is my only ‘free- for me day’  and we were lucky with the weather. It’s years since I had been to the Island and was amazed at the spring-greenness of it compared with gardens and fields in the Moncton area. We visited Victoria-by-the-Sea, a charming coastal village before heading to Summerside.

It was too early for most seasonal cafes to be open so we settled for a first-time-for-me lunch at Wendy’s. Being vegetarian fast food is not big on my menu but I was happy with a baked potato and a small salad.

Next stop was to see Wayne, a craftsman who builds custom cupboards from old wood. With Chester guiding we loaded a seven-foot entertainment centre into the trailer, plus another cupboard painted a soft blue and a small bench.

The sun was now shimmering on the water and a visit to Robert Coulson’s antiques shop unearthed some good finds. A deco glass fronted bookcase, a yellow glass water set, a pair of delicate wine glasses and assorted china and earthen ware. I found a large bowl painted with colourful fruit, just right for my yellow and green kitchen, and a decorative silver plated spoon.

With the back of the van almost full we made one more visit, stopping on the way to take in a typical PEI wide open landscape.

BC Antiques in Kensington yielded a lovely cabinet and a perfect-for-two love seat. But as we did not have room for them, they will be picked up on another trip to Prince Edward. Meanwhile back at the shop Chester was well-pleased with his day, as were Pauline and I.

All Wired Up – Wrapped and Coiled

Although my husband has spent his career as a journalist and newspaper editor he has recently become very interested in creative arts. While acknowledging and being impressed by his skill, I’d like to think this might be partly my influence.

During the past couple of years he has taken art classes with Joe Collins at McKenzie College, producing some still-life paintings of pears and apples and couple of beautiful landscapes of one of our favourite places in Maine.

Knowing of his interest in wire jewellery I was excited to see a short course offered at New Brunswick Community College – and found the ideal birthday present, and a new creative outlet.  The evenings spent there were not only relaxing for him but produced several lovely gifts for me as well. With our birthdays only a couple of weeks apart, it was a one-for-two inspiration.

From his work, in just six hours, I received two pairs of dangly silver earrings, a Celtic-style copper ring with a blue-green stone, a wire-wrapped blue stone pendant with an intricately coiled clasp and a second pendant of interwoven cobalt blue wire rings circling an iridescent bead.

Over the years I’ve collected lovely slices of agate and polished stones.  Naturally I’m hoping some of these will soon be wearable art; the kind I see in fashion and jewellery magazines.  At least until the next class is offered this autumn.

Bird Watching -- Lessons in Love and Parenting

Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun and left the sky filled with their honour.

Every year at this time I am absolutely enthralled by the intelligence, instinct, devotion and endurance of the birds that fill our skies with splendour.

In addition to the joy I get from mourning doves, chickadees, blue jays, pheasants and others that visit and feed in our garden I share in the courtship, hatching and parenting of falcons, eagles, hawks, ospreys and storks around the world.

Several years ago I heard about a live camera focused on an eagle’s nest in British Columbia. I watched occasionally for a few days, when I remembered. Then, one evening returning from class, of course still daytime on the west coast, I switched on. To my horror I saw the female tearing apart the nest. Though I did not have speakers, I could feel her cries of pain and anguish. I later discovered both her eggs had fallen from the nest.

Without anthropomorphising I could understand and share her loss.

Red-tailed hawk

Since then I have become a follower of some of the many bird cams in dozens of countries that allow us to observe the wonder of courtship, laying, hatching and  caring of  these feathered beings. The miracle of love and life. I hear them ee-chupping through their courtship, have learned the small subtle differences between male and females, seen nests and scrapes constructed and prepared, watched with some admitted heart-wrenching as a falcon dived from high at 200 miles an hour, to stun an unsuspecting pigeon for the eyases’ supper.

Osprey nest in Nova Scotia

I marvel at the patient sitting, waiting for the eggs to hatch. I watch in awe as the female carefully turns each egg to benefit from the warm brood patches on her breast; as the eagle gently tucks an egg back underneath her body.

Not only have I learned a lot, my respect for our feathered friends has deepened. You will never ever hear me use the derogatory phrase ‘bird-brained’.

Falcon with her four eggs, Derby, England

We can learn a lot from them. How to form good, lasting relationships; for birds frequently do; how to be a good parent, how to cope with loss and sorrow. For not all the eggs hatch, not all the young survive. And the parent birds do suffer and grieve. The amazing journey they make, mostly by instinct as they fly south each winter; how the female peregrine falcon stays in the cold north while the male goes south, but he returns to the same mate the following year. Some pairs have been together for more than a dozen years. That’s better than many marriages.

Eagles in Maine

For several years I benefitted from the knowledge of a lady in the Netherlands named Froona. She loved peregrine falcons and was a wealth of information about them; introducing me to locations world-wide to watch them in snow, driving rain and wind, all with the same determination to protect their young, rear them and prepare to let them go. For rarely do the young return, they find their own nests or scrapes. Sadly Froona died in 2009. Her passion remains on her blog, and in my mind.

Storks nest in Germany

From storks in Europe, where people encourage them to nest on their roofs, believing the birds bring prosperity, to eyries high above rivers and roads, to stony scrapes on high-rise buildings to ocean-side pines, these magnificent birds offer me so much each spring.

Soon, too soon, the white and gray bundles of fluff, find their wings, begin to explore outside the nesting place, unsteady at first, then with increasing confidence and curiosity; feathers replace the down. Come June eyases in many locations are banded, eaglets and red tailed hawks flex their great wing spans, find the delights of the skies, soaring, circling, doing what they were created for, carefully taught by loving parents. Eventually they fledge and fly away. The sense of loss, of not having them in my life remains for weeks.



Rochester, N.Y.



Newly-hatched eaglets

You can Google any of these bird species, followed by ‘live cam’ or similar wording to share in the joy and learning experiences.

Photos taken from various webcams

Yoga at Chocolate Lake

Anytime I can combine two of my loves is a very good time.

Cocoa, resident dog at Chocolate Lake Hotel

This past weekend was even better. Chocolate Lake Hotel in Halifax was the venue for the 2011 Yoga Atlantic Conference at which I was presenting a workshop about my ‘Warrior Women – Yoga for Breast Cancer’ programme.

The view of Chocolate Lake from my room

Theme of the Conference was the Heart Chakra – Anahata – which was very appropriate. Our practice comes from the heart; every class is a satsang, a gathering of community and support. From my heart it is service, seva, to other women; a practice of being alive and awake in the world, of being connected.

In the summer of 2010 I was honoured with a grant from the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, the first time in Atlantic Canada that such a grant has been sought and awarded. It allows me to offer a year of yoga to women fighting and surviving breast cancer. The programme began last September in Moncton and we are now into the third of our eight-week sessions.

Nancy's scarf

Offering my workshop in the Conference’s contemplative section I talked about why I had wanted to offer this service, the grant request process, getting sponsors and the positive benefits of the classes themselves. While teaching in Ontario several students went through their fight and survival while taking classes. One of my precious possessions is a scarf one student wore during her hair loss and gave to me when she “no longer needed it.” I also taught at Wellspring, a cancer support organization in that province.

Triangle pose using blocks for alignment

Yoga is recognized by many in the medical profession as being a positive, beneficial addition to conventional treatments. In classes we focus on the importance of calming breathing and meditation, inviting healing energy into the body. Many asanas are similar to the ones I teach in any class, many are specific to breast cancer survivors, others are modified or adapted. We also have ‘tea and heart-to-heart talk’ times, a walking meditation and the ladies are encouraged to journal. We create a supportive, caring fellowship and assistance in adjusting to a ‘new normal body’. There is as much laughter as learning.

Cecilia, one of my Warrior Women came with me to talk personally about how she has benefited and share some of the comments from other women in the class. Together we demonstrated how we adapt postures to each body’s needs.

Warrior women during meditation

This poem, written by Karen, another Warrior Woman says it more eloquently than I could. It comes from her heart.

TOGETHER

Can you make me feel good?

Can they take away?

All the pain and the fears.

That make up every day.

All the angels working for a cure.

All the people who are there for you,

     helps to be sure.

Can they understand:

      the scars and trials,

      the pain and the crying,

      the self pity and the guilt,

      the insecurity and the fear?

           

Yes together  -  to be with, listen to and talk with

women going through the same as you is

the best help of all !

More of My Favourite Places

A couple of years ago I wrote a series of articles for Local in the Know about some of my Favourite Places in Moncton. These included Bistro-Cafés, delectable edibles, interior décor and fashion stores.

These can be read at knowmoncton.com/favorite-places/

I plan to continue that series here in my own journal pages.

One of my favourite places to curl up and read isn’t always at home. It’s in the sunny reading area of the new Riverview Public Library. As a life-long avid reader libraries have been a source of discovery, quiet contemplation and delight. Where else can you have so much fun, learn so much and meet great characters (between the pages) for free, or at the most a couple of dollars if there’s a book sale? There was this week, which added two more books to my shelves.

Often I go with a book list in my notebook - I've just added Henning Mankell's latest Wallander The Troubled Man -  but find a must-read almost as soon as I walk along the stacks. It’s not unusual for me to be weighed down with an armful of books I’d love to read.

That’s when I sit for a while and reluctantly make a selection.

We live just across the Petticodiac River (or trickle as it is now), just a short drive, but a bit too far to walk.  

During most of 2009 the library in Riverview was closed for renovations to the municipal building that contains both library and town offices. A definite gap in my reading months. Finally in January 2010 it re-opened, two and a half times larger than previously with a wall of large windows and special reading and activity areas, plus a special activity room.

Library Director Lynn Cormier told me membership has increased 10 to 15 per cent in the year since re-opening. Not suprising as we look around the bright, airy space. Lynn knew in Junior High she wanted to be a librarian. More than twenty years later and studies at Dalhousie University, she still loves her job. “I’ve great staff and I always love the people contact,” she says.

Fiction accounts for 65 per cent of books borrowed. Current popular books include The Room by Emma Donoghue; Secret Daughter by Shilpi Gowda; The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, plus all Stieg Larson’s series. Books by Susan Wiggs, her Summer By the Sea for instance, and by Jodi Picoult,  Sing You Home is a big favourite. In non-fiction The King’s Speech by Mark Logue is a major request. Non-fiction popular categories are travel, self-help, parenting and cooking. You can also borrow CDs, audio and electronic books and there are now seven computers available.

Programmes at the Riverview Library include activities for mothers and babies with rhymes, songs and music.

There are pre-school and older children programmes and an all-summer reading project. Older library members can enjoy the book and travel clubs.

New this year is Conversation Circle, helping new immigrants with pronunciation and accent. 

Like me Lynn Cormier usually has several books she’s reading at any time. Among her favourites she lists The Book of Negroes, The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns.

I settled into a comfortable wing chair for a while to turn the pages of another book on India from the sale table to add to my collection, before heading home.