Leon was an ordinary man, living in an ordinary town in South Western Ontario. Leon knew he was ordinary, had always known it, yet yearned for something else. Something extraordinary. Leon grew up with his Mom, Elizabeth, and Dad, Thomas, and younger brother Theo, and younger sister Daisy in the university town of London, Ontario. Leon was an ordinary yet extraordinary boy growing up. At the time, he didn't know about the extraordinary, he didn't allow himself to know or see it. Ordinary in the sense that he lived on a regular street, York Street, in a regular house, two storey with basement and three bedrooms up typical of South Western Ontario. His parents both worked, had good, steady jobs. His Mom was a librarian and his Dad, a high school teacher. The days growing up were predictable and calm. Leon enjoyed playing sports, basketball, volleyball and soccer were his favorites. Leon was born in October of 1972, he was what they called a good baby. Cried little, ate his dinner, laughed and smiled a lot. As he grew, and started to talk, everyone enjoyed their time with Leon. He was personable and very good to everyone even as a small child. When visitors would come to the house, Leon would sit attentively with them and ask questions, and then sit patiently to hear the answers. When he was 5 years old, he had been sitting with his parents one Friday evening, eating dinner in front of the TV on a TV table - this was their once a week ritual. They watched the news, a piece came on the air about Queen Elizabeth the 2nd and the Silver Jubilee. Leon looked to his parents oblivious to the news, happily eating his Shake n' Bake chicken, mashed potatoes and broccoli - enjoying the Friday evening ritual with his parents. The next night when Elizabeth and Thomas had a group of friends come over for a Fondue dinner, Leon was sitting with his Dad's friend Benjamin. Leon always enjoyed Benjamin's company. Benjamin liked to read books to Leon or tell him a made up story. Benjamin was Thomas's longtime friend, they grew up together, lived on the same street, went to the same schools. Benjamin was tall like Leon's Dad, they had played high school and university basketball together. It was almost time for Leon to go to bed so he found Benjamin, climbed up on his lap and asked for a bedtime story. Benjamin obliged right away. He had a soft spot for Leon. Dirty blond hair, hazel eyes resembling his father, Leon would grown up to be a tall man. In high school he shot up to 6ft which was an advantage for him in sport. Benjamin asked Leon what kind of story he would like to hear tonight. Looking straight in Benjamin's dark brown eyes, Leon said, "I'd like a story about Queen Elizabeth the 2nd. Did you know that Queen Elizabeth the 2nd is celebrating her Silver Jubilee and that means that she is celebrating 25 years as the monarch. More than one million people lined the street of London to watch the Royal Family on their way to St. Paul's," Leon recited. Benjamin chucked, surprised and said, "really Leon, how did you know that?" "Easy," said Leon, "I watch the news with Mommy and Daddy. Benjamin, what is one million?" sighed Leon. Benjamin was fascinated by Leon. Every time he saw Leon, he was overjoyed to see the advances and new things learned in such a short amount of time.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday Cold Ride - 10 minutes to write - Sunday, January 30, 2011
Riding over the Burrard Street Bridge at 6:30 on a Sunday night, in the dark and cold I looked just in front of me to see my daughter pedaling away. "Mumma my legs are sore, Mumma my legs are cold, I want to stop," she called to me. "Keep going Oliva, we've got to get to the top, then it's smooth sailing down the other side," I stressed. "You're doing great, you're strong, we're almost to the top," I encouraged. She kept pedaling.
What a trouper she was, we had been riding already for a few hours and now to end it, up and over the Burrard Street Bridge to get home. We started out around 3:30 that afternoon, the sun was shining in Kitsilano, a beautiful and clear day. It was the end of January, above zero although felt quite cold on the bike. Olivia had been requesting unsuccessfully for days to go for a long bike ride, I had not been excited about riding in the winter rain. When the sun came out that Sunday, I couldn't refuse another request to ride, I loved bike riding as well. "What should I wear for bike riding Mumma," Olivia had asked me that morning. "Oh, jeans or track pants would be great and comfortable," I replied. "OK Mom," said Olivia with a glint in her eyes. A few minutes later she tromped into my room wearing a purple dress and light brown, sort of latte colored tights.
"How's this, do you like my dress, it still fits!" she exclaimed. "What about the pants Olivia? I think pants are best for bike riding," I mothered. "I'm OK and I love my purple dress," followed Olivia. "OK wear what you like but don't complain when we're on the ride," I warned. Me and the three kids all got dressed up in our warm coats and stretchy mitts, excited about the ride. Olivia, Samuel and Sasha filed out the front door, nudging and teasing each other the way kids do when you're trying to get out the door. I packed my red Roots backpack with wallet, camera, Kleenex and four cans of Spritz-Up pop for a break when everyone started to get thirsty.
Out the front door, the kids were ahead of me, throwing rocks into the pond and fighting with each other. What's new! As I walked through the yard I noticed that it really looked like winter in Vancouver. Our fish pond looked dead, dark and lifeless. The twenty odd gold fish had slowly disappeared in late fall and throughout the last months. Most likely the neighborhood racoons had treated themselves to a snack.
I missed the fish darting around under the water, the golden and orangy color that lit up the water. The ground around the gardens in the yard was dark brown and wet, as were all the trees and vegetation. I couldn't wait for spring and summer to come back. The garden would be alive with color in just a few short months, lots of bright greens, purples, pinks and yellows.
"Come on kids, let's get the bikes out," I called. Around the corner of the house we went along the path to the back yard and our storage room. I examined the rocks along the side of the house, it was like a rock garden about a foot wide. I always wondered where the landlord found such rocks. The kids and I were rock collectors, always loved rocks, the colors, the feels, the shapes. We were so happy to find so many beautiful rocks in our own backyard when we moved into the house about 4 years ago.
As I got closer to the back of the house, I smelled smoke, cigarette smoke. That's funny, I didn't see anyone around, nobody in the house smokes and the neighbors don't smoke either. I lifted the latch on the back side gate looking intently around me, wanting to know where that smell was coming from. No clues. All of a sudden, Olivia exclaimed, "Mumma there's a cigarette burning here!" On the sidewalk there was a cigarette butt still smoking.
Angrily, I looked around. Where did this come from, did someone throw it over from one of the balconys above. What if it had landed on one of the kids, I was not happy. I called up to the third floor balcony. Nobody answered, so I climbed the steps to the top floor to see for myself. The house was a big old 4 storey with decks and balconys off of every floor front and back. I knocked on the glass garden style door, nobody home. Still curious and pissed off, I headed back down the stairs.
Opening the storage room door I was met by the sight of many spider webs. The storage room tended to be quite neglected throughout the winter months as we didn't ride our bikes much in the cold rain. I started wheeling out the bikes. They were packed in smallest to biggest, Olivia's pink bike came out first. She was ecstatic, the bike had been new at the end of last summer. She picked it out herself at Ace Cycle and promptly learned how to ride it. At the time, she was already 8 years old and not yet riding a two wheeler on her own. I had purchased a Trail-a-Bike a few years before that Olivia was in love with, she screamed with joy riding behind me. "Ride faster Mumma, ride faster," she would call from the seat behind me. I remember the first time we used the Trail-a-Bike, we rode in the alleys of Kitsilano around our house. We found out the if you ride in the alley behind West 2nd Avenue, west to Dunbar, you find a pretty good and bumpy downhill section. She was infatuated with that hill, we rode down that hill many times that day! It was when the Trail-a-Bike started squeeking and groaning that I realized she was too big for it. I had actually enjoyed very much having her attached to me and glancing back to see her blond hair flying in the wind and the priceless smile on her face. Today would be a big ride and that was what Olivia had been asking for. We would start in Kitsilano, from our house to Kits Beach, along the water, onto the bike path to Granville Island, then on the Sea Wall past Science World, into Yaletown, and then to the West End to drop Sasha off at home with his Mom. After that Olivia, Samuel and I would head to the Burrard Street Bridge, over and back home to Kitsilano. I guess I forgot when we left the house that afternoon that although the sun was shining, it was still winter and darkness would fall around 6pm.
What a trouper she was, we had been riding already for a few hours and now to end it, up and over the Burrard Street Bridge to get home. We started out around 3:30 that afternoon, the sun was shining in Kitsilano, a beautiful and clear day. It was the end of January, above zero although felt quite cold on the bike. Olivia had been requesting unsuccessfully for days to go for a long bike ride, I had not been excited about riding in the winter rain. When the sun came out that Sunday, I couldn't refuse another request to ride, I loved bike riding as well. "What should I wear for bike riding Mumma," Olivia had asked me that morning. "Oh, jeans or track pants would be great and comfortable," I replied. "OK Mom," said Olivia with a glint in her eyes. A few minutes later she tromped into my room wearing a purple dress and light brown, sort of latte colored tights.
"How's this, do you like my dress, it still fits!" she exclaimed. "What about the pants Olivia? I think pants are best for bike riding," I mothered. "I'm OK and I love my purple dress," followed Olivia. "OK wear what you like but don't complain when we're on the ride," I warned. Me and the three kids all got dressed up in our warm coats and stretchy mitts, excited about the ride. Olivia, Samuel and Sasha filed out the front door, nudging and teasing each other the way kids do when you're trying to get out the door. I packed my red Roots backpack with wallet, camera, Kleenex and four cans of Spritz-Up pop for a break when everyone started to get thirsty.
Out the front door, the kids were ahead of me, throwing rocks into the pond and fighting with each other. What's new! As I walked through the yard I noticed that it really looked like winter in Vancouver. Our fish pond looked dead, dark and lifeless. The twenty odd gold fish had slowly disappeared in late fall and throughout the last months. Most likely the neighborhood racoons had treated themselves to a snack.
I missed the fish darting around under the water, the golden and orangy color that lit up the water. The ground around the gardens in the yard was dark brown and wet, as were all the trees and vegetation. I couldn't wait for spring and summer to come back. The garden would be alive with color in just a few short months, lots of bright greens, purples, pinks and yellows.
"Come on kids, let's get the bikes out," I called. Around the corner of the house we went along the path to the back yard and our storage room. I examined the rocks along the side of the house, it was like a rock garden about a foot wide. I always wondered where the landlord found such rocks. The kids and I were rock collectors, always loved rocks, the colors, the feels, the shapes. We were so happy to find so many beautiful rocks in our own backyard when we moved into the house about 4 years ago.
As I got closer to the back of the house, I smelled smoke, cigarette smoke. That's funny, I didn't see anyone around, nobody in the house smokes and the neighbors don't smoke either. I lifted the latch on the back side gate looking intently around me, wanting to know where that smell was coming from. No clues. All of a sudden, Olivia exclaimed, "Mumma there's a cigarette burning here!" On the sidewalk there was a cigarette butt still smoking.
Angrily, I looked around. Where did this come from, did someone throw it over from one of the balconys above. What if it had landed on one of the kids, I was not happy. I called up to the third floor balcony. Nobody answered, so I climbed the steps to the top floor to see for myself. The house was a big old 4 storey with decks and balconys off of every floor front and back. I knocked on the glass garden style door, nobody home. Still curious and pissed off, I headed back down the stairs.
Opening the storage room door I was met by the sight of many spider webs. The storage room tended to be quite neglected throughout the winter months as we didn't ride our bikes much in the cold rain. I started wheeling out the bikes. They were packed in smallest to biggest, Olivia's pink bike came out first. She was ecstatic, the bike had been new at the end of last summer. She picked it out herself at Ace Cycle and promptly learned how to ride it. At the time, she was already 8 years old and not yet riding a two wheeler on her own. I had purchased a Trail-a-Bike a few years before that Olivia was in love with, she screamed with joy riding behind me. "Ride faster Mumma, ride faster," she would call from the seat behind me. I remember the first time we used the Trail-a-Bike, we rode in the alleys of Kitsilano around our house. We found out the if you ride in the alley behind West 2nd Avenue, west to Dunbar, you find a pretty good and bumpy downhill section. She was infatuated with that hill, we rode down that hill many times that day! It was when the Trail-a-Bike started squeeking and groaning that I realized she was too big for it. I had actually enjoyed very much having her attached to me and glancing back to see her blond hair flying in the wind and the priceless smile on her face. Today would be a big ride and that was what Olivia had been asking for. We would start in Kitsilano, from our house to Kits Beach, along the water, onto the bike path to Granville Island, then on the Sea Wall past Science World, into Yaletown, and then to the West End to drop Sasha off at home with his Mom. After that Olivia, Samuel and I would head to the Burrard Street Bridge, over and back home to Kitsilano. I guess I forgot when we left the house that afternoon that although the sun was shining, it was still winter and darkness would fall around 6pm.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Buttery Toffee...the 10 minutes writing, well a few more than 10!
A neon sign bright with the words, "Buttery Toffee Popcorn" was all I saw that wet, dark Friday evening at the end of January.
I was in the West End that particular evening, a pit-stop of sorts, in an evening that could only be described as "Mom's Taxi Service".
Half an hour to wait after dropping one child off at the Aquatic Centre for swim practice, the other at Granville Island for dance class and then to pick everyone up along with a friend for a sleepover!
I headed straight for London Drugs thinking this is my 30 minutes to write. My objective was to buy the large coiled notebook that I had failed to purchase the day before in part due to "Mom's Taxi Service" and "Mom's Dinner Service" which tend to take up quite a bit of time daily. As I drove through the rain, I planned my 30 minutes. 5 minutes to London Drugs, 5 minutes in London Drugs, 5 minutes to get out and settled in the car, 10 minutes to write, 5 minutes to get back to the pool. I added the timing in my head, perfect, 30 minutes.
As the wipers quickly cleared the rain from the windshield, I looked up the street, London Drugs was on the right, oh good parking right at the front door. I rolled into the space, hopped out of the car pulling my hood up over my head, the rain was still falling. Quickly glanced at the parking meter, parking karma, 7 minutes left in the meter, I dashed through the entrance and made a sharp turn to the left towards the stationery isle. I looked up, objective in mind, large coiled notebook. And there it was, "Buttery Toffee Popcorn". Neon and bright, as if a spotlight was shining directly on the box from the director's podium.
"Keep walking," I told myself, "you are here for the large coiled notebook" I continued aloud, firm to myself and startled a few people in the aisle around me. A tall, plump, 20 something looking guy with a Vancouver 2010 toque on turned to me and said nervously, "I'm here for cat food." "Oh, of course," I replied, "I was talking to myself...have you seen the large coiled notebooks?" "Yeah, actually I have," he smiled and pointed down the aisle a few feet. "Thanks so much," I called back. There they were, the big ones, the one I wanted, red, green, blue, black. My first choice was black, I picked out a black, not black enough, it had little white dots that made me think the book had been splattered with paint, I didn't like that. So, red it was, a red notebook always looks good and inspires.
I turned to head to the checkout, glanced at my watch, I was happy, still making good time. Down the aisle I walked with my new red notebook under my arm, eager to write, excited about all the ideas that had been flowing through my mind that day. Looking forward to my ten minutes of writing. Music piped into the store, John Denver sang, "West Virginia, mountain momma, take me home, country roads..."
I hummed along and turned the corner of the aisle to get into line at the checkout. Boom, there it was again, that bright neon that I had said goodbye to on my way in, "Buttery Toffee Popcorn".
I love toffee, I love buttery toffee popcorn, oooo delicious, I could taste it melting in my mouth, a little crunchy popcorn along with that sweet and soft buttery toffee. It seemed like an eternity waiting in line, was I still on time, a few minutes off, oh shoot. And there was the Buttery Toffee Popcorn staring at me, calling me, the neon was flashing bright pinks, orange, yellows, the spotlight, brighter and brighter. In that moment I hated the Buttery Toffee Popcorn. Focus on the new red large coiled notebook, think about Ruth, the ten minutes writing, the blog, Eduardo and the group. Prompt the muse, come on! Finally it was my turn, the cashier rang up my new red notebook, looked at me and said, with a hint of suggestion in her voice, "anything else?" I was now arm's length from the Buttery Toffee Popcorn, the box smiled at me, I smiled back, it was like a lover that I could never say no to, no matter what he did. I reached for the box...
I was in the West End that particular evening, a pit-stop of sorts, in an evening that could only be described as "Mom's Taxi Service".
Half an hour to wait after dropping one child off at the Aquatic Centre for swim practice, the other at Granville Island for dance class and then to pick everyone up along with a friend for a sleepover!
I headed straight for London Drugs thinking this is my 30 minutes to write. My objective was to buy the large coiled notebook that I had failed to purchase the day before in part due to "Mom's Taxi Service" and "Mom's Dinner Service" which tend to take up quite a bit of time daily. As I drove through the rain, I planned my 30 minutes. 5 minutes to London Drugs, 5 minutes in London Drugs, 5 minutes to get out and settled in the car, 10 minutes to write, 5 minutes to get back to the pool. I added the timing in my head, perfect, 30 minutes.
As the wipers quickly cleared the rain from the windshield, I looked up the street, London Drugs was on the right, oh good parking right at the front door. I rolled into the space, hopped out of the car pulling my hood up over my head, the rain was still falling. Quickly glanced at the parking meter, parking karma, 7 minutes left in the meter, I dashed through the entrance and made a sharp turn to the left towards the stationery isle. I looked up, objective in mind, large coiled notebook. And there it was, "Buttery Toffee Popcorn". Neon and bright, as if a spotlight was shining directly on the box from the director's podium.
"Keep walking," I told myself, "you are here for the large coiled notebook" I continued aloud, firm to myself and startled a few people in the aisle around me. A tall, plump, 20 something looking guy with a Vancouver 2010 toque on turned to me and said nervously, "I'm here for cat food." "Oh, of course," I replied, "I was talking to myself...have you seen the large coiled notebooks?" "Yeah, actually I have," he smiled and pointed down the aisle a few feet. "Thanks so much," I called back. There they were, the big ones, the one I wanted, red, green, blue, black. My first choice was black, I picked out a black, not black enough, it had little white dots that made me think the book had been splattered with paint, I didn't like that. So, red it was, a red notebook always looks good and inspires.
I hummed along and turned the corner of the aisle to get into line at the checkout. Boom, there it was again, that bright neon that I had said goodbye to on my way in, "Buttery Toffee Popcorn".
I love toffee, I love buttery toffee popcorn, oooo delicious, I could taste it melting in my mouth, a little crunchy popcorn along with that sweet and soft buttery toffee. It seemed like an eternity waiting in line, was I still on time, a few minutes off, oh shoot. And there was the Buttery Toffee Popcorn staring at me, calling me, the neon was flashing bright pinks, orange, yellows, the spotlight, brighter and brighter. In that moment I hated the Buttery Toffee Popcorn. Focus on the new red large coiled notebook, think about Ruth, the ten minutes writing, the blog, Eduardo and the group. Prompt the muse, come on! Finally it was my turn, the cashier rang up my new red notebook, looked at me and said, with a hint of suggestion in her voice, "anything else?" I was now arm's length from the Buttery Toffee Popcorn, the box smiled at me, I smiled back, it was like a lover that I could never say no to, no matter what he did. I reached for the box...
Why I Like To Write...in 10 minutes
I like to write because many times the words and the expressing myself come easier through writing.
When I can sit on my own, I feel a sense of calm, nobody staring at me, no pressure, no questions I don't know how to answer, nobody to get upset with me - just me and whatever is on my mind, whatever I want to say, whatever words I choose to use. It's wonderful and calming, I can be so eloquent, say the things that don't always come out easily from my mouth. Description is easier. I like words, I like using different words, how can I say this or that in another way, what other words could I use. My handy dictionary and thesaurus sit beside my desk and are well used.
When I can sit on my own, I feel a sense of calm, nobody staring at me, no pressure, no questions I don't know how to answer, nobody to get upset with me - just me and whatever is on my mind, whatever I want to say, whatever words I choose to use. It's wonderful and calming, I can be so eloquent, say the things that don't always come out easily from my mouth. Description is easier. I like words, I like using different words, how can I say this or that in another way, what other words could I use. My handy dictionary and thesaurus sit beside my desk and are well used.
So much can change with the use of a different word that means the same thing, although does it really? The conotation of different words intrigues me. What would be the best word here, the best word there. How will people, how will someone read it? Will it excite them? Will they understand exactly what I'm saying? Will it put them right inside of me, inside my mind, seeing, experiencing exactly the same as me?
I have always enjoyed writing and words, Boggle is one of my favorite games, why do I enjoy word games so? Stories as well come to my mind, quickly and then they leave! Writing keeps them alive before they escape!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Shoes on the table
"Shoes on the table?" I asked. "Why is that? Didn't your mother ever tell you never to put shoes on the table?" I said with a laugh. I teased him every time. This is the way he liked it, shoes, sharp pencils, ink well, Mont Blanc, letters for review and of course, the shoes - on the table.
Fritz was always very particular about how he liked things done. So I laid out the items he had asked me for at dinner. On the mahogany side table under his favorite painting just outside our walk-in bedroom closet. The shoes, his burgundy, tassel, penny loafers that we had searched the internet for - from Todd's of New York or Todd's of somewhere important.
They were Fritz's lucky business shoes, lately he had taken to wearing them for all new client meetings. He told me that the shoes had an elegant yet I mean business look to them that people respected and revered. He polished the loafers on his own before these meetings, 2 days in advance of his departure and then set them out to breath and make sure that they were perfect. The night before his departure I always laid out the specific items that he asked me for and then we did the packing together.
This piece took me 10 minutes to create from a picture at my very first Prompting the Muse class with Ruth. And now to elaborate...!!
Fritz was always very particular about how he liked things done. So I laid out the items he had asked me for at dinner. On the mahogany side table under his favorite painting just outside our walk-in bedroom closet. The shoes, his burgundy, tassel, penny loafers that we had searched the internet for - from Todd's of New York or Todd's of somewhere important.
They were Fritz's lucky business shoes, lately he had taken to wearing them for all new client meetings. He told me that the shoes had an elegant yet I mean business look to them that people respected and revered. He polished the loafers on his own before these meetings, 2 days in advance of his departure and then set them out to breath and make sure that they were perfect. The night before his departure I always laid out the specific items that he asked me for and then we did the packing together.
This piece took me 10 minutes to create from a picture at my very first Prompting the Muse class with Ruth. And now to elaborate...!!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Racoon
I dropped Olivia off at the door tonight, she hopped out of the car and ran into the Aquatic Centre to get changed for swimming. I drove back down the street in the rain looking for a free parking space. I found one! Walking back to the pool, it was cold, wet, dark with lots of cars passing. I thought it must be the last of the neighborhood arriving home from work. As I crossed Beach, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something moving. I turned my head to look...it was a big, furry racoon beside me, waddling along.
He kept his distance from me, continuing to waddle and scurry along being sure to sniff all the nooks and crannies of tree trunks, steps and bushes. I guess he was hungry for a snack! I kept walking along the sidewalk adjacent to the aquatic centre, he walked along beside me on the other side of a four foot hedge, I could hear the rustle of his clawed feet on the ground. Every so often he poked his head through the hedge to check me out. I stopped and looked back at him. What was he thinking? Does he think? What is he doing? He crawled under the hedge and came out on the sidewalk beside me. I stopped, we looked at each other again. He didn't say anything, I said, "hi racoony, what's happening?". No answer and he swaggered across the driveway.
I saw a man walking along the sidewalk, carrying an umbrella, he didn't notice the racoon cross the sidewalk just in front of him. I looked around to see if there were cars coming as the racoon was about to step foot onto the street. No cars close and he made his way across and the up an apartment building driveway. I lost sight of him in some bushes at the side of the driveway. How interesting and intriguing it is to see the city racoons of Vancouver. They are cute and furry, they look good to pet. I don't pet them or get close although I still think they are cute. Somewhat mysterious they are with rings around their eyes and tails!
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