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It is the disease of not listening that I am troubled with
I only knew my grandfather when he was very old, but I was also very young then so most people seemed old to me at the time. He had been a carpenter in England before he emigrated to Canada with his young bride as the years turned into the twentieth century. After a long journey […]
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Ich und Du?
When I was a child, I had no inkling of cultural appropriation. I eagerly dressed as the cowboy Roy Rogers, and enmeshed myself in what I mistakenly assumed were aboriginal customs of dress and philosophy; I once (and, it must be stressed, unwillingly) played the role of a girl in a Grade 4 school play […]
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Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy
I realize how malleable our memories can be; how a passion in our later life can be attributed to a precocious childhood; how we can bend the past like origamied paper. But, short of recognizably dated diary passages, or a still-living family member (whose memory could be equally suspect), there can be no reliable verification […]
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I will a round unvarnished tale deliver
There are times when I find myself wondering about things like I did when I was a child: about whether there are any benefits of Age, for example; about why uninvited questions arise while I am gardening, or when I’m having an evening glass of wine. Nowadays, I wonder if it’s all the result of […]
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Death be not proud
Sometimes I think I spend too much time with myself. I realize, however, that the only way to spend any time away from me is to die, and that seems a bit harsh. Death is one of those subjects they never taught in school -in my day, anyway. Of course, when you’re young, Death is […]
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Come to my woman’s breasts and take my milk for gall.
There are times when it is apparent that I have lived a rather cossetted life; when I realize I have been coddled in one gender, and misunderstood the other; when what I assumed was ‘common-sense’, was actually ‘male-sense’ -and not even widely shared, at that. But, I suppose that what we learn from the dark […]
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Oh, coward conscience
Most of the time I think of myself as a tolerant person -grumpy, maybe; at times even impatient with opinions not my own, but by and large, accommodating. Of late, though, I have come to recognize that with many things, tolerance is not actually acceptance; it is more often putting up with something which I […]
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musings on women's health 