In case anyone hasn’t noticed, the holiday season is creeping up on us rather quickly. Here in Ontario, we’ve had our first snowfall and all of the requisite bad driving conditions that accompany it. It’s just over 2 weeks until Christmas and Hanukkah, because this is one of those magical years where both celebrations overlap. I have several friends who celebrate both holidays and when they fall over the same period, their already crazy lives get even crazier. My schedule is certainly filling up as the end of the year draws near – with babysitting gigs, dinners with friends, and a couple of holiday parties. I love the chance to get dressed up, put on some holiday themed jewelry (usually that I made myself) and celebrate with friends. As I wrote last week, I love picking out gifts for friends and family and seeing them smile when they open it. But unlike other years where I’m in full on Santa, Cheesy Romantic Comedies, and Christmas baking explosions, I’m feeling decidedly non-festive this year.
I have felt like this before and it usually resolves itself long before we hit double digit dates in December. I’m not sure what is so different this year but there’s something missing for sure. I was briefly in the Christmas spirit a couple of weeks ago when I went with my friend Louise to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra do their annual Christmas Show. It was spectacular: he music was amazing even at the Air Canada Centre (a place not known for great acoustics), the set design was nothing short of magical, and the special effects and pyrotechnics were beyond what I expected. This was one of those shows I’d wanted to see for awhile but had never managed to attend the one or two nights they were in Toronto due to scheduling conflicts. This year I was gifted the tickets, and finally went and I regret not going sooner and making it a Christmas tradition long before now. If you like Christmas music with screaming guitars, fire, an awesome group of background singers, and joined with instrumentalists from the local symphony, go see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra if you possibly can. You won’t regret it. But you may want to bring ear plugs because it’s a pretty loud concert.
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I know it’s partly grief – I came by my love of all things Christmas quite honestly – Mum adored Christmas and would have the house decorated long before the Grey Cup participants were decided. This is the third Christmas without her, and things are getting a little easier but I still have moments when grief washes over me like waves washing away a sandcastle on the beach. One of those happened this past weekend as I was getting groceries after volunteering. I was in a good mood after volunteering and was enjoying walking the aisles of the supermarket in search of new things to cook in the pressure cooker. Then I rounded a corner and came face to face with a display of Mrs. Kipling’s Mince Pies. I cannot abide mince pies – I don’t like the taste or the texture. Dad’s firmly in my camp – not a fan of mincemeat nor fruitcake (unless it is positively swimming in brandy). Mum was another story and every year we would start hunting as early as mid-November for the coveted Mrs. Kipling’s Mince Pies. Seeing them on display made me smile and I had one of those grief-fog moments where I forgot mum isn’t here anymore. I grabbed the package and as I turned to put it in my cart the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt sick – my head got all foggy and muffled, I was really really hot all of a sudden, and needed to go somewhere to regain my composure. Fortunately the grocery store in question has bathrooms that are pretty much impossible to find and are single family style washrooms instead of gendered multi-stall affairs. I beelined to the washrooms and had a good cry, emerging a few minutes later red-faced but able to continue shopping.
I’m going through the motions – the tree is up and decorated, the Christmas stuffed animals that surround the stairs to the basement are being put out as we speak, the family and dining rooms look like an elf was let loose with every holiday decoration known to man. I even got the blasted Noma musical boxes (circa 1990 ) out and untangled the wires to set them up. The manger is set up, awaiting the arrival of the baby Jesus figurine on December 25th (assuming I haven’t forgotten where I put it). I even hung the stockings on the mantle. Dad never really liked filling stockings – I was in charge of mum’s stocking once I was old enough to be let loose in a store with $30 (Santa only filled kids stockings in our house). Since mum died, we haven’t done stockings and that makes me sad because I love opening the stocking to find some of the same things in there year after year – an Archie comic book, a lottery ticket, Ovation chocolates, and lip balm. There were other things in the stocking too, but those were in there without fail every year. Seeing the empty stockings hanging on the mantle makes me feel sad, but not having them hanging at all was upsetting too so it’s hard to choose.
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I’ve got a couple of days ahead which will involve me playing Santa Jenn to a few of my friend’s kids and lots more gifts to be distributed next week. I’m also volunteering to help sort gifts for the local Santa fund so that should improve my Christmas spirit. Have you ever had a year where you just didn’t get into the holiday spirit? What helped you?
Spirit comes from Latin – which shouldn’t be a surprise at all – the root word is spirare – to breathe.
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Spirit (spir·it) Noun
Qualities regarded as forming the definitive or typical elements in the character of a person, nation, or group or in the thought and attitudes of a particular period.
The real meaning or the intention behind something as opposed to its strict verbal interpretation.
The attitude or intentions with which someone undertakes or regards something.
The nonphysical part of a person that is the seat of emotions and character; the soul.
Strong distilled liquor such as brandy, whiskey, gin, or rum.
It’s been a few busy weeks and sadly, my beloved Word Wednesday posts have paid the price. Today I deliberately sought out some time because I wanted to post about an amazing experience I had in the summer that led directly to an amazing experience I had last week – and I wanted to do it while the memory was still fresh in my mind.
In August, I was invited to participate in an amazing influencer retreat – #LetsGoRama by the lovely ladies at SJ Consulting. I learned a lot but also had an amazing time just chilling by the pool with friends. The magic of that retreat still hasn’t worn off. I loved going to Casino Rama for concerts before the retreat – for me it’s the same amount of driving to go up to Rama or to go into Toronto, but one is a much more relaxing drive (and has free parking and only 5000 seats in the venue!) and the retreat introduced me to new experiences within the casino. I didn’t realize there was a saltwater pool, steam room, sauna, hot tub, or amazing exercise facility that is available to anyone who stays in the hotel or customers of the spa that is also located in the hotel.
Clockwise from top left: the hotel lobby, a guest room, the pool, the amazing sculpture above the main lobby
I signed up for a Player’s Passport Card while at the conference – it’s a rewards card for the Casino and it’s free. You can earn points with it when playing on the electronic gaming machines (like slots or video poker), and you can earn free food, concert tickets, or even a night’s stay at the hotel. I managed to earn a free night at the hotel that I could use on a non-weekend night, and the amazing PR person for the Casino offered all of the influencers at the retreat a pair of tickets to any concert in 2016. I’d already bought tickets for a few events that I was interested in, so I asked if the tickets could be for the Radio for Cardiology benefit concert featuring the Trews and 54-40. Not only was the concert featuring two bands I love, it benefited a cause close to my heart: getting a cardiac catheterization lab for Barrie’s Royal Victoria Hospital (RVH) so that everyone in Simcoe-Muskoka would be able to receive lifesaving treatment within the 90 minute standard. (I made a donation to the cause since I didn’t actually pay for the concert tickets.) I had already been tweeting and posting about this amazing concert and it was amazing when I was told that yes, I could use my free tickets for that event.
I messaged my friend Crys and asked if she wanted to come with me and stay over the night before the concert. Crys agreed and we had a lovely 28 hour stay. We ate amazing food and neither Crys who has Celiac disease and is gluten free nor me who has multiple food allergies felt there was a lack of choice while eating in any of the 3 restaurants we ate at. I had also earned some dining credits so some of my food was covered. We spent some time at the casino itself, and the afternoon was spent relaxing (and talking shop) by the pool. Then it was time for dinner and the concert.
54-40 rocking out
The concert was amazing. It started at 8pm with a local band – Code Blue – made up of doctors from RVH and they played a selection of cover songs that delighted the audience. Then came 54-40 and I was instantly transported back to my teenage years when I listened to a lot of Canadian music, particularly 54-40 and Great Big Sea. They played all of their hits, and the audience sang along to most of them. After a short break, the Trews took the stage. If you haven’t seen the Trews play live, you’re missing out. There are some bands that are just so amazing to listen to live and the Trews are one of those bands. Between the 3 bands and the two short intermissions, the concert lasted 3.5 hours! It was far better than I had imagined it would be.
The Trews, during Highway of Heroes.
All in all it was a great getaway and sorely needed for me. The fact that my hotel stay was covered as a guerdon – icing on the cake. Full confession, I’ve been trying to figure out how to use guerdon in a post for awhile now – it’s not a common word and although the definition is pretty easy to understand, it doesn’t fit easily into conversation. However, I like the way the word sounds. Guerdon means a reward or payment, and was first used in literature by Geoffrey Chaucer in the 14th Century. It is vastly underused today but was brought back to my mind when it was the Word of the Day on Merriam-Webster at the beginning of October.
The derivation of guerdon is – wait for it – Latin, however there is Old French and old High German mixed in there for effect. The root words of the word are: Old French guerredon – reward or recompense, Old High German widarlon – recompense, and Medieval Latin donum – gift. So the word has a really neat etymology and I felt like I should share it.
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This isn’t the post I intended to write this week, or the post I imagined I would write on this word. Things change, however, and though I may be completely freaked out by change, it still happens. So I adapted, and am writing a slightly different Word Wednesday post.
This week, one of the bands I have grown up with announced that their lead singer, Gord Downie, has terminal brain cancer and that the studio album and supporting tour will be their last. Judging by my Facebook feed, I am not the only one saddened by the news. Part of the nostalgia is due to the fact that I literally grew up with The Hip on the radio. Their first big album, Up to Here, came out in 1987 – I was an impressionable grade-schooler at the time and anything that got airtime on stations my parents listened to had a big impact on my musical preferences. There’s a reason that a lot of the music I love was made before I was born – I blame dad and his affinity towards classic rock for my love of The Beatles, Jethro Tull, Neil Young and Crazy Horse, The Guess Who, The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and The Band. My adoration of The Monkees is entirely the fault of Much Music for re-running their television show in the after school slot when I was a kid and Davey Jones’ adorable grin capturing my young heart. I was also in love with New Kids on the Block around the same time so take from that what you will. As I’ve grown older, my musical tastes have turned towards the East and West Coasts – with Great Big Sea and Spirit of the West respectively taking a place in my heart. I also love Blue Rodeo, Rush, The Tea Party, Barenaked Ladies, and The Trews – proving that the Canadian Content rules for radio play have definitely worked on me – it’s hard to become a fan of bands you don’t hear on the radio, or at least it is for someone my age who grew up before streaming content was a thing. (I’m sure I’ve missed some bands here but you get the idea.)
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The Tragically Hip became the soundtrack to my formative years – songs like New Orleans is Sinking, 38 years old, Fifty Mission Cap, Wheat Kings, Ahead by a Century, and Bobcaygeon were played at parties, at the cottage, and just hanging out with my friends. I learned to drive listening to these songs on the radio, I got into a huge argument with my first boyfriend over the significance of Bill Barilko, and I’ve been known to time trips to Bobcaygeon so that I leave at 9:15. I’ve seen The Tragically Hip live a few times (nowhere near as many as Great Big Sea but it’s widely acknowledged that I *may* have a slight obsession with them) and they have never disappointed me. I’m going to be trying for tickets for this last tour because I want the chance to say goodbye, to thank them for all the memories, and because I think that music as a shared experience is one of the most primal ways we can connect with others. I deliberately left out one of my favourite songs by the Tragically Hip when I listed them at the beginning of the paragraph – the one that has been quoted a lot since the news of Downie’s cancer became public – Courage (For Hugh Maclennan). Indeed, I think it does take courage to announce a goodbye tour that is actually a goodbye tour and not just because the band is going their separate ways.
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The word courage is one I’ve been planning to feature for a while and though I hadn’t planned on using the song as part the explanation, it works well. I’ve long been fascinated by the root of the word courage and the connection to the French word for heart – coeur. Etymologically speaking, this is because it was believed that the heart was the centre of all emotions and thus courage came from the heart. Indeed, there is a longstanding belief that music and the heart are interconnected – Beethoven believed that music should “strike fire in the heart”. The word courage comes to us from Middle English (denoting the heart as the seat of feelings): from Old French corage, from Latin cor ’heart’.
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Courage ( cour·age) noun
The ability to do something that frightens one.
Strength in the face of pain or grief.
Today, it is the second definition that strikes me – to be strong in the face of pain or grief. Yes, music fans are losing an icon, but the members of the Tragically Hip have been together for over 30 years and are losing their front man, their friend, and their most recognizable member. To be facing this loss and still announcing a cross-Canada tour takes courage indeed.
Update: Last night – October 17th, 2017, we lost Gord Downie. I say we because over the course of the day it became apparent that this was a national loss. The flag on the Peace Tower in Ottawa is at half mast until the funeral or memorial service, RIP Gord was trending on Twitter all day, and I spent most of the day listening to the Hip on repeat. I did get tickets to that final tour, and on August 10th 2016, I headed down to the Air Canada Centre with my friend Crys. We had dinner and whisky at the Irish Embassy, toasted Gord, and enjoyed a night full of glorious music. Memories were made and more than a few tears were shed. One of the coolest moments was the on the ball spotlight work during Fifty Mission Cap – when the lines “They didn’t win another until 1962 / The year he was discovered” came up, the banner for the 1962 Stanley Cup win was illuminated. It was a little thing but as a Leafs fan, it was pretty cool. The whole night was magical, and I will forever have it in my head. CBC aired the final concert of the tour live on August 20th, Dad’s birthday. We took the big tv up to the cottage, and hosted a group of friends for a viewing party on the lake- another uniquely Canadian moment courtesy of the Hip. So although I mourn Gord’s passing, my sadness is mixed with gratitude for everything he gave Canadian music fans. He who walks with the stars is now forever a part of the constellations that reveal themselves one star at a time.
Regular readers may remember about six weeks ago, I published a post about music, depression, and grief that outlined how music helps me through some of the hard moments in life. I heard from many of you that it echoed how you felt about music. Music has always been something that brought people together and made them forget their troubles for awhile. Until it wasn’t.
On Friday November 13 2015, at approximately 9:40 local time, 3 men exited their car and entered the Bataclan Concert Hall where the American band Eagles of Death Metal were playing to a crowd of around 1500 people and opened fire using automatic rifles. According to reports, they fired into the crowd from the mezzanine to kill as many people as possible and inspire terror. 89 people were killed at the Bataclan that night, with hundreds more wounded.
On November 18th, I went with a close friend to see a concert that I had been looking forward to for months – Alan Doyle and the Beautiful Gypsies and Barenaked Ladies. The show surpassed my expectations. Not only did I get a night out with a great friend (who really needed the break), but I got a picture at Intermision with Alan Doyle, and my CDs signed. The music – Where do I start with the music? Alan Doyle was amazing. He sings with such joy that you can’t help but be swept up and be happy. He sang many of the songs off of his new album, including the title track and my personal favourite, 1,2,3,4.
When he stopped to tell the story behind the song Laying Down to Perish, I got goosebumps. Alan is a natural storyteller, and kept the audience on the edge of their seat with the story. The song was inspired by a trip to a museum on Fogo Island in Newfoundland where he saw an odd artifact, and, with the curiosity of a historian, asked questions. The artifact in question was a mariner’s gaff – a wooden pole with a hook on one end used to stab fish either on the ice or on a boat – with four names and the words “lay down to perish” carved into it. It seems the four men went out on the ice to fish and got caught by the shifting tide and realized they couldn’t get back to shore. In order to give their families closure, they carved their names on the gaff along with what they planned to do – lay down to perish – and set it adrift so that when it reached land, their families would know what happened to them and not roam the coast looking for them or hold out hope that one day the men would return. Doyle tells the story much better than I do, and the song he wrote after being inspired by this story is a most fitting tribute to these brave men.
I was crying before the first chorus. Barenaked Ladies came out for the second half of the concert, started with high energy songs, and soon had everyone up and dancing. Those guys sure know how to put on a show! I’ve always enjoyed the band, but had continual bad luck with concert timing and this was only the second time I’d seen them live. I bought my ticket based on Alan Doyle playing but knew both halves of the concert would be awesome. BNL fans are awesome and dedicated – during their song Duct Tape Heart, an audience member tossed a bra made out of duct tape onto the stage, and lead singer Ed Robertson gamely picked it up with his guitar and played the rest of the song with it on the end of his guitar. A few songs later during Pinch Me, someone threw a very large pair of underwear on stage – at the appropriate part in the song of course – and Robertson picked them up again with his guitar.
I’m amazed I got a picture of that. I thought they would fly off
My friend and I were laughing and dancing along with everyone else in the concert hall. It was an amazing 3 hours of music and fun. All of the musicians in both bands came out to do a joint number – 9 musicians on one stage singing If I Had A Million Dollars, one of BNL’s first big hits.
The whole gang on stage
I don’t have any universal answers to offer, but I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to continue to enjoy live music, and I’m going to do it for the 89 music lovers who died doing something they loved. I may be a little trepidatious at first, but I will go, because by giving in to the fear, the terrorists would win. Music is a universal language – whose dictionary does not include the word terrorism. I’m going to fight fear and hatred with love and understanding. Who’s with me?
Almost two years ago, my mother passed away very suddenly. I will never forget the moment I found out, the pain in my father’s voice, or the task of calling my grandmother to inform her. I had some amazing friends who stepped in to help, but that didn’t stop grief from enveloping me. The program I was in at the time was not what you would call supportive of the grieving process. They grudgingly gave me a week off but after that it was full steam ahead, and keeping busy is one thing but trying to juggle a tough academic curriculum while your brain is hazy from grief is almost impossible. I was made to feel abnormal for taking “too long” to mourn, which helped send me down the rabbit hole of depression (again). Post-secondary institutions talk a good game but when it comes down to it, their mental health programs aren’t exactly stellar and even in a program that talks a LOT about mental health there were faculty members who openly suggested that maybe it wasn’t grief or depression, maybe I just couldn’t hack it.
So down I tumbled into the rabbit hole. I couldn’t sleep properly, began to doubt my ability to do anything correctly, and the gremlins in my mind that feed on negative thoughts grew fat and bloated. I began to contemplate suicide, but knew my dad and the dog needed me and I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing them more pain.
Most days I’d leave school and cry in my car for the whole way home. I lost interest in pretty much everything since it took all my energy to simply get through the day. School friends would try to cheer me up but I was beyond ‘down’. I wondered if I would ever feel a spectrum of emotions again. There were days when it hurt slightly less but I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t even close to happy. Happiness was something reserved for other people, I felt like happiness was an island but no matter how hard I swam, I never got any closer to it.
Before mum’s death, music had been a big part of my life. I was in an amazing concert band with tons of great musicians and friends; I was also a member of the Argonotes – the official band of the Toronto Argonauts, which I adored because it was a fun side of music. There weren’t any long rehearsals or complicated scores to learn but there were team songs, rock standards, a musical puns like playing “hold that tiger” when the team got a holding penalty against the Hamilton Ticats or the Jeopardy theme when a play was under review. Mum’s death occurred right at the end of the football season, and I’m forever thankful for the band members who came out to the visitation, because it was something to remind me of who I had been just a few days before.
With no more football games to play at and being too mentally drained to keep playing in the concert band, music slipped away. I stopped listening to it because a song would come on the radio or a CD that would remind me of mum and it would feel like the wound on my heart was ripped wide open again. In not listening to music, however, I lost a huge piece of myself. I’m that girl you see singing in her car at a stoplight. I often joked that I’d seen Great Big Sea so many times (24 – number 25 was supposed to have been the night of mum’s funeral and I couldn’t go) that I sometimes feel like an honourary Newfoundlander. I memorized songs and listened for the little extras that made songs stand out – the tin whistle over a guitar line, a bodhrán being played with a feather light touch, a harmony that was not quite what you expected but was so much more complex than you believed possible. I was a junkie and with mum’s death I went cold turkey. (I’d been to a number of Great Big Sea concerts with my parents and there were a lot of memories tied to the songs). I thought that by cutting music out I was preventing pain, but what I was really doing was preventing joy.
I did keep checking Facebook during this time, even if I didn’t post as much and it was a Facebook post that put me on the road to coming to terms with, and helping me cope with my depression. It was on Sean McCann’s Facebook page. I remember the date clearly – January 23, 2014. The picture showed up in my news feed – with Sean resting his head against a wall. The text talked about how those “banging your head against a wall” days were actually the best days because they teach us how to help our selves. That was my light bulb moment, when I realized that nothing was going to get better unless I actively worked to make it better. The post went on to say “We can’t control the world, but we can control our own actions”. It ended with the best advice I’ve seen on Facebook: “When in doubt always look for the Love”. What was odd about the whole situation was that I hadn’t seen ANY of Sean’s postings about Help Your Self – even though I had liked the page, Facebook’s algorithm had done its thing and had hidden the posts from me. I don’t know what it was that made this particular post show up in my feed – whether it was fate, kismet, or a little nudge from my mum – but I believe I was meant to see that message at that moment.
Sean McCann on Tuesday October 6, 2015
The first step to helping yourself is admitting that you have a problem, and as Sean himself said on Tuesday night during his concert at the Kitchener-Waterloo Little Theatre (KWLT), it’s a hard step to take because nobody wants to admit that there’s something wrong with them. I knew that there was definitely something wrong with me – that the grief I was feeling had snowballed out of control and morphed into depression. I knew I needed help, so I called my family doctor, who managed to see me within a few days. She agreed that this wasn’t grief, it was something bigger. My medical history is somewhat complex, so we chose to explore some non pharmaceutical interventions (with the exception of a sleep aid since I’d been sleeping less than 3 hours a night for 3 months and exhaustion was not helping my mental state at all). I found a counselor to talk with who specialized in grief counselling.
The funny thing about all of this is, that while I have quite a few friends with depression and have never judged them for it, I did judge myself. I gave those little voices in my head (made stronger by my program’s administration’s lack of support) power over my self-worth. With the help of my counselor, I told those nagging little voices to shut up. It felt so good. One session, about a month or so into the process, I mentioned to my counselor that I was worried about the narrow range of emotions I was feeling – I wasn’t as down as I had been when I first went to see him, but I wasn’t happy either. I wasn’t even content, I was simply existing. My counselor is a very pragmatic man and when I told him this, he looked at me and asked “well, what made you happy before your mum died”? My immediate response was music. He then asked why I wasn’t still listening to music, and I explained that I was afraid it would hurt too much. He told me it would hurt but that if we want to experience joy, we can’t be afraid to experience pain.
I sat in my car for awhile after the appointment, cried a little, and then turned on the CD player. It’d been almost 4 months since I’d listened to it so I had no clue what was going to come on, and given my car CD collection contains everything from The Beatles to Metallica and Great Big Sea, it really could have been anything. As fate would have it, it was Sean McCann’s former band mate Alan Doyle’s debut solo album Boy on Bridge, and the song was My Day. This is the final verse of My Day:
Can’t say what’s Fortune’s drumming Can’t wait to see what’s coming Hell or Highwater I’m off and running Either way
I started crying again, but took it as a sign from the musical powers that be. I digitally ordered Sean McCann’s Help Your Self (there weren’t physical copies of it at that point even though I’m still that person who loves CDs over digital downloads), and spent a lot of time listening to Boy on Bridge, Help Your Self, and the Great Big Sea album that saw me through heartbreak and change – Something Beautiful. (I’m not even going to attempt to pick a favourite GBS album, but Something Beautiful came out during a really rough period in my life and I played the whole album on repeat for a few weeks straight until I knew every word to every song, so I’ve got a really strong emotional connection to the album). I fell asleep to them, I woke up to them, I listened in the car, I listened while doing homework. They became my constant companions, and while some of the songs on Something Beautiful reminded me of mum, the more I listened to them, the less it hurt and the more I could smile at the memories. Music became my salvation. I took up the bodhrán again – I found that while I’m still not very good (and should not use a tipper without a ring to prevent it from flying out of my hand), it brings me joy.
One of the many pictures I took of Sean’s bodhrán.
Awhile back, I was fortunate enough to see Alan Doyle on his current tour for his new album So Let’s Go. It’s impossible to go to one of his concerts and not leave a) hoarse from singing at the top of your lungs and b) pumped up – many of the songs have an upbeat tempo and fun chorus (my current obsession is 1,2,3,4 because there’s a quick part in the middle that I’m determined to get all the words right for). On Tuesday, I was sitting at home and lamenting the fact that I couldn’t go see Sean McCann in Toronto for the You Know I Love You tour on Friday because we are heading up to the cottage for Thanksgiving like we always used to do before mum died, when my friend sent me a BBM message about having a spare battery for an old BlackBerry device I’m re-homing to a friend. We were discussing how I could get it from him, and he mentioned that he’d be at the Sean McCann concert that evening at KWLT. I remember hearing about the concert from multiple sources when it was announced but it conflicted with an Argos home game so I’d promptly forgotten about it even when the Argos game got moved to Ottawa.
I figured there weren’t any tickets left, but to my surprise, a quick search confirmed there were. I immediately went to work on finding a place to crash for the night, since I needed to be in Kitchener the following evening for my Pathfinder meeting, and once that was secured, had a record fast shower, threw overnight stuff in a bag, packed my laptop up so I could work during the day on Wednesday and hightailed it (at a safe speed) to KWLT. I found seats, found friends sitting beside me and had a 3 hour sing along with Sean McCann and his amazingly talented opening act Matt Wells. The night was pure magic, for starters, I love that building, having been a (small) part of the rebuilding efforts after the fire in 2002 – helping with painting it and volunteering at fundraisers for the theatre before its grand re-opening in 2009. So to see a star like Sean McCann in the building was awesome to begin with. The way he walked on stage after intermission, doing an a cappella version of Safe Upon the Shore (which has some serious memories for me and made me cry) in a strong, powerful voice, gave me goosebumps. He invited the audience to sing along to a number of songs, basked in the knowledge that he didn’t have or need a set list because it is just him on stage, and at an audience member’s request sang Danny Boy. Of course I cried again during Danny Boy – but not just because that’s what one does. It had more to do with the tenor (pun only slightly intended) of his voice and the purity of the sound. It takes guts to stand on a stage and belt out Danny Boy on the spur of the moment, there’s so much that can go wrong with that song but didn’t on Tuesday night. The whole night was amazing. Sean talked very candidly about his battle with addiction, encouraging us to donate to the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health because they do amazing things, but could do even more amazing things with a bit more funding. He talked about the split with Great Big Sea and how letting go of the anger he felt helped make him whole again. He seemed infinitely happier on stage than when I saw him at the Dakota in Toronto in 2011. He still put on a great show but there wasn’t the sparkle in his eyes I remembered from the first Great Big Sea concerts. That sparkle was back in abundance on Tuesday, and everyone in the audience felt it.
After the show, both Sean and Matt graciously went out into the lobby and took pictures, chatted, and signed CDs for the audience. I waited at the back of the line, knowing that I wanted to thank him for the role he played (and that his music continues to play) in my recovery. When it came time though, I couldn’t make the words come out. Instead I asked a lame question about bodhrán tippers (though it was also on my mind because his tipper looked very different to mine and seemed to be an extension of his hand), which he graciously answered. I hung around and helped clean things up, mentally kicking myself for chickening out. I firmly believe in thanking people who have an impact in your life, and I froze simply because he’s a star to me. I haven’t had the chance to meet Alan Doyle yet but I suspect I’d freeze just the same when trying to thank them. So instead, I’m doing what I do best, writing. Though putting all of this out there is actually scarier than saying “thank you” would have been. To all the musicians out there, keep at it because you never know how you will affect someone. To Sean and Alan, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
I was visiting my parents last weekend and one evening, we were bored. There was nothing on TV and we were all talked out. Yes we have tons of DVDs but there wasn’t one that we could all agree on. That’s when my inspiration struck. I got out my Playbook, connected it to the wireless network, and grabbed my HDMI cable. Luckily, my parents have a new TV with a very conveniently placed HDMI port on one side. I plugged in the playbook, switched the source feed on the TV to the HDMI port, and all of YouTube was at our disposal. We spent a very enjoyable evening watching music videos ranging from Great Big Sea to Gordon Lightfoot with some Simon and Garfunkel and The Guess Who sprinkled in.
I also showed my parents, who don’t use YouTube unless I send them a link to something, some of my favourite videos. Then I played a slideshow of the pictures I had on my playbook. Not every video looked good on the big screen but we could all watch them and it was a really enjoyable evening. Although I don’t have any kids, if I did, this would be an awesome way to show videos of the kids taken on the Playbook to friends, relatives, living further away who happened to visit. It’s a good thing that Dad has a playbook because I think the evening of YouTube might just become a family tradition. The next time I’m home, I’m going to set up the Remote control on the Playbook and sit on the couch to direct the action.
I’m not going to play armchair GM at 2 am the morning after a loss. Especially after a home game where I didn’t see all of the game because I was playing in the band. Yes the Argos played badly, no I don’t have a magic fix to make the season all better. It wasn’t just one thing or one player that made the team lose, it was a number of factors working together. It’s really easy to lay the blame at the feet of a single player but football is a team sport. Part of the Argos’ trouble seems to be an inability to deal with unexpected changes such as a key player going down to injury. If left to their own game plan, the Argos seem to be a decent (Not spectacular) team; but when a monkey wrench is thrown into the works, such as Rob Murphy’s injury this week or Kevin Eiben’s injury a few weeks ago, the team collapses in on itself. I think it goes back to confidence and the Argos seem to be lacking in it. When everything is carefully scripted, they’re fine but going off script is disastrous because the players are worried that in doing so they’ll make a mistake. The most dangerous thing to be in football is cautious – it’s also the most boring! There’s nothing worse than a team playing to not lose. I can root for a losing team, but not a boring team. Other than some spectacular special teams plays by Chad Owens. the Argos were boring tonight There was a lot of potential to not be boring – there was a great string of 1st downs in the first quarter but then the drive ended with a rather anti-climatic field goal. Turnovers were not capitalized on, turning an exciting event into nothing. Again I’m not sure how to fix it but I’m hoping one of the coaches on the Argos does.
Even with the loss, the Argo game was fun tonight. That’s the best thing about being in Argonotes – even when the team on the field is less than entertaining, the band is always awesome. At halftime tonight, we did our usual show – 4 or 5 songs to a small but loyal crowd by gate 5. As we were playing our first song, I noticed 2 little girls dancing along to the band. I went over to our director Dictator’s big bag o’ musical toys and dug out a tambourine and gave it to the girls. The look on their face was of pure delight. They shook it together and were generally adorable. Their dad took some pictures and the girls were having a great time. For the next song, I asked the girls if they wanted to play WITH the band. Our fantastic bass drummer Tyler came in front of the band and let the younger girl “help” play the bass drum and the older girl got to play the tambourine in front of the band, wearing the Dictators furry blue hat. The looks of joy on their faces made my whole night. To make things even better, when I was walking around the Dome after our half-time show, I saw the family. The girls came up to me and thanked me and then the older one went to call her mum and was eagerly telling her about being IN the band. The grandmother told me that we had made their night extra special and that they’d remember it for a long time.Thinking about that makes me put the loss in perspective. The Argos may not have won, but this Argonote sure did.
