Auntie Tamada was a very special woman, a distant aunt to my first husband. We lived with her for a few months when we first married, and kept in touch through the years. Her name, Tamada means “ordinary” in Thai. She was far from ordinary. She loved life, and people, and food. Once when my parents were visiting us, Auntie Tamada invited all of us over for dinner which she had ordered from a variety of street vendors. Immediately she recognized that dad wanted to try everything and learn what he could about this new culture (new to him). He had a very gentle and kind spirit, and she insisted on teaching him as much as she could in that short evening about eating Thai food. I was busy with a child, so didn’t take much notice of what was going on, but I think my mom was being ignored.
Auntie Tamada had been a widow for several years at that point, and would tell us stories about her husband. He was very creative, wrote Thai hymns, and was a Christian minister. He also assisted with one of the translations of the Bible into the Thai language. And he carved a replica of the King’s barge out of a water buffalo tusk.
After dinner that evening she insisted that dad take the King’s barge home to Canada with him. It stayed on his shelf for many years. Now it sits on top of my china cabinet.
I wonder why this extraordinary woman was given the name “Tamada”…
Now that Toffee is gone, I receive visits from many curious creatures. Lately several cats have stopped by to check in on me. With no barking Yorkie to chase them away, they seem to be curious. Or maybe they smell the mouse that lived here briefly.
One day as I sat doing some work at my dining table, within less than 10 minutes I had 4 cats stop by to look in. At least two live in the neighbourhood and the others are strays. This evening Milo (a black and white cat that lives in a quadraplex behind my house) stopped by to watch me change the lock on my front door. He is still very shy but did stop and stare for quite a while.
I am not a cat person. In fact, I really don’t like cats. But, before I became Toffee’s human, I also didn’t like or trust dogs! Now that my daughter has two beautiful cats, I might just start to like cats after all.
I think a lot of times we decide not to like something because of fear or other uncertainty. When I was quite young and few times since, I had some scary encounters with dogs. One that I remember vividly was being chased by a German Shepherd through an orchard while I was on my bike. Many times in Thailand I was threatened by dogs. Cats are a different story — I’m allergic to most cats, so try to stay away from them.
What other things have I missed out on because of fear or perceived threat?
Parts of Canada still have several feet of snow, with lakes frozen solid and icy roads. Victoria folk are enjoy the cherry blossoms, daffodils, camellias and all kinds of other flowers. In fact, we plant winter flower gardens to keep the streets bright and colourful from late November to early March when the snowdrops and crocuses start to bloom. This photo of a cherry tree, typical of the trees which line most streets in Victoria was taken yesterday.
Years ago when I lived in Thailand I enjoyed the bountiful harvests of fruit year-round. Flowers bloomed non-stop throughout the year and from what I recall, they were the same flowers all the year — bougainvillea, jasmine, hibiscus, orchids. Even though all of those are very beautiful, I missed my favourite from Canada, which is the daffodil. After a few years I started to miss the seasons. Thailand has a rainy season, and a rainier season. Sometimes there are a few cool days early January, but not enough to stop flowers from blooming.
The autumn in Canada is when plants start to die down, the leaves fall and vegetables are harvested. Winter is white and not much grows outside (in some parts of Canada). Spring is the best time, when one by one plants shoot up out of the ground. Flowers begin to bloom again and life is good! The new life is a reminder that there are better days ahead.
I think we need the autumn and winter of our lives to really appreciate the new life that spring brings.
Over the past 30 years I have moved several times. Strangely, the most common time of year for my move has been in October. In each new home, one of the first things I have done is to plant daffodil bulbs before the snow falls. Then, in anticipation I wait in the spring for those daffodils to bloom, bringing me hope and joy.
Many years ago, my daughter’s roommate left this beautiful vase behind when she moved out of our home. I loved it the first time I saw it, but because at that time it wasn’t mine, I could only look at it! Years after the roommate moved out, I tried to return it to her, but she didn’t recognize it. How could someone not remember an object this beautiful?!
I love the smooth, round shape. It is made of wood, probably hand-made. The soft brown colour reminds me of walks in the forest.
Today I have been thinking of how easy it is to forget about items that are so precious to others. The same goes for people…how often do we meet someone then quickly erase them from our memory.
I have taught probably close to a thousand students in my 40+ years of teaching private lessons, but I could probably only name about 50. Some study for a month or two, others have been with me for years. I remember many of the them by name, while some I can only recall the circumstances.
One such child was a student of mine for about 4 months. I don’t remember her name, although I do remember her father’s restaurant, and the swing in her back yard where she would go before and after our lessons. Her mother had died and her dad wanted to give her the very best of everything. Unfortunately, the trauma of losing her mom caused this precious child to stop talking. After 4 months of absolute silence from her, I realized that I couldn’t help her, and gave up.
I don’t know how the wooden vase took me to that young child, but it did.
The first piano student this past Friday arrived to her lesson with her science project. I wanted to see her demonstrate her creation but we had too much work to do on her piano pieces.
Teaching piano gives me a chance to peak into the lives of so many young, creative and curious children. Many of the students are eager to share their experiences, their joys and sorrows. I hear of new kittens, new puppies, obnoxious class-mates, field trips, birthday parties, life events, exhausted parents, annoying siblings. And I see their excitement at accomplishing what at first looked like an impossible new technique or new piece.
The purpose of this particular science project was to demonstrate the power of wind. I didn’t have a chance to ask what the Q-tip attached to the front was for. Maybe next Friday I can find out.
Yesterday my friend convinced me to join her on a walk to the nearby park to feed the ducks. She would bring some bird seed, and she was very excited to show me her newly discovered hobby! Of course, the first thing I did was search for the city’s bylaws for restrictions on feeding wild creatures. Apparently we can feed the ducks in that park, as long as we didn’t try to feed seagulls, pigeons and squirrels.
Not only did our small handfuls of seeds attract the ducks, but also crowds of people fascinated by the eagerness of these mallards, widgeons (new to me!) and geese to scamper so close to us in order to grab a seed or two. We even had a peacock venture close. I was too awestruck to take a photo of him….
This is the first day of a 100-day challenge from the Isolation Journals. 100 days of creativity. I have chosen to spend 10 minutes every day–choose a photo from the day(s) before and write about it.
When people walk into my living room they are presented with a music studio. I have a piano, an electric organ, a TV table with 4 boxes of music books in current use, and a desktop computer, a dining table covered with piles of books and papers, two chairs, no couch, no TV, no coffee table.
My work life is not simple. As a freelance musician nothing is predictable week to week. Daily routine does not happen easily since the necessary activities of each day are different.
So today a light went on — I need to simplify my activities, not my things. Things can be sorted and simplified later. My life needs to slow down. At any moment I have at least a dozen “projects” going on.
Looking forward to slowing down and enjoying walks and peaceful moments.
If you were to let go of three things before bedtime tonight, what would they be? What would you gain by letting them go?
That was the journalling prompt which got me started on this post. I have been working on this post and my plans for a few weeks now, and have made progress. Last week I notified one of my colleagues that he would need to find someone to replace me in September, since my last week of teaching his students would be near the end of May. Also on Sunday I let the contact person at a church know that they would need to find a different musician to sub the next time their new organist was out of town. This afternoon will be my final rehearsal at the university.
Gradually I am whittling away at the busy-ness of my life. It feels good. I will get through this.
My maternal grandmother, Hazel was a beautiful, talented and amazing woman. With her positive spirit she taught by example how to love while showing incredible patience and strength. When she died, at the age of 100, I was able to keep one of her three detailed maps that she had drawn in high school. My mother had all three framed. One map was of Europe, one of North America, and the one I received was of Asia, but included some of the middle-East and Europe as well as the Asian countries.
Asia, and beyond in 1911.
This map was drawn in 1911, when Grandma was 16 years old and living in Vancouver. The detail is quite elaborate, indicating mountains, deserts and rail lines, along with the borders of the countries and lakes and oceans. She was careful with the printing, to keep it neat and readable. Grandma showed more of her artistic talent in later years with her paintings, leather work and knitting. She had a keen eye for detail.
For many years between high school and the time she got married, grandma worked for a steamship company. Often when items arrived, but were not claimed or picked up, she was able to take them. I don’t know if they were sold at a cheaper price or given away. One such item that I inherited from her is an old hand carved chest; most likely from Thailand (Siam in those days) or another country in Asia.
Grandma lived with her mother until she was 35 and got married. In those days women who were married didn’t work, so she gave up her job. I remember many times when she would tell that she dreamed of travelling on the ships and seeing countries around the world. As a loyal daughter and later as a wife, she stayed close to home and helped out as expected. But, when I was young and heading off on my own adventures, Grandma would cheer me on and encourage me to explore.
The framed map is hanging in my hallway upstairs. I often stop to look at the map and search for countries to see how much has changed since 1911. The borders are different. The names of many countries are different; some no longer exist. I am saddened by the thought that Grandma didn’t have a chance to travel far. One trip we took together when I was about 10 was a bus trip from Kelowna to Vancouver. That was a special trip for me — I got to spend time alone with the one person in my life who seemed to understand me and who has been an inspiration for me.
I started writing this post on November 25, 2021, the day after Dad died. All I had was the title. This is what I want people to know about my dad.
Today (June 24) would have been his 91st birthday. I haven’t decided yet how I would celebrate or honour his birthday. Last night I started planning a trip across Canada with my daughter. Maybe that’s a starting place to keep dad’s memories alive!
Dad was always seeking a new adventure. Don’t get me wrong — stability for our family was important, but he aimed to provide experiences for us. Each summer we did something special. Often it was renting a cabin out at the lake and spending our days exploring the shores and the lake with our canoe, or small motor boat. We learned to water-ski, we caught lots of fish for mom to cook for dinner. We hiked along the rocks. We learned how to use an outhouse while holding our breath for as long as we could. We learned how brave the hungry chipmunks would become if we could stay still long enough for them to venture onto our arms.
One summer we took a camping trip across Canada. Dad bought and prepared a tent trailer, and after months of gathering maps and brochures from every city and town along our way, we set off on our 6 week trip. Dad was determined to make this a memorable trip where we could learn as much as possible about our country.
Dad was a believer in life-long learning, and life-long service to community. After his early retirement (following the death of my brother) dad very quickly became involved in volunteer work. I am sure feeling useful was a large part of how he worked through his grief.
Dad was patient and kind. He was our high-school principal for most of my years in high school. I realized just how kind, patient and respected he really was after he left the high school and we got a new principal.
For years I didn’t speak to my father, or my mother, or really anyone else. I was a very shy and quiet child, content to go unnoticed. Later, when I was in my 30s I started to go to him when I needed help. And then we started travelling together. Every summer for he past 20 years we went on a trip, exploring Canada as well as countries in Asia and Europe, often going on cruises and sometimes just driving. In the past few years during the pandemic it was not convenient to travel far, so we explored Vancouver Island together. His last trip was in September 2021, when he spent several days with me. He was tired from a year and a half of staying home and caring for mom. I was shocked at how much he had slowed down physically, yet he was still sharp mentally and just loved the sight-seeing and meeting new people.
This is only a snapshot of what I want people to know and remember about my dad. Happy Birthday. I wish you were here.
The physical pain was real. It was sudden, gut-wrenching and mixed with a tidal wave of emotions. Why did my sister have to mention his name in a random text, letting me know that he was at my grandmother’s funeral 24 year ago? Some things are better just left unsaid.
The abuse started even before we married. I was a single mother of 4, with no income, and unable to work because of a move from a different country. He was my saviour, and only man in the world who would stoop so low as to “take me on” and take care of me and my children. The brain-washing and gaslighting was constant; I was vulnerable and unable to sort out what was going on. I just figured I deserved the beatings.
It took a long time for me to gain the self-confidence and strength to leave him. I wish I had left him sooner, or that we hadn’t met at all. But no amount of wishing is going to change anything, or erase the past.
Reflections 