Category Archives: Holidays

‘Tis the Season for…Conspicuous Consumption

Black Friday, the American phenomenon of greatly slashed prices just after the holiday celebrating the Giving of Thanks, has come to Canada. Fortunately, we do seem to be somewhat more civilized than some of our neighbours to the south. News coverage of the Eaton Centre, which opened its doors at six in the morning for the big event, showed a few dozen empty-handed people sauntering through nearly empty mall space. Meanwhile, in the great US of A, thousands of people breached store entrances before they were fully opened, grabbing stock from shelves, pummelling each other, being forcibly subdued by security, and scrambling for goods as if it was world’s end. But we’re not talking food here; we’re not talking about the necessities of life. We’re talking electronics, TVs and games; that fifth pair of boots or twelfth pair of shoes; that fiftieth towel or toy. adbusters_everything-is-fine-keep-shoppingMarking the beginning of holiday buying, ‘tis indeed the season for conspicuous consumption, and a day I prefer to avoid stores.

In some jurisdictions, the day also marks Buy Nothing Day (BND), conceived by Vancouver comic artist Ted Dave “To return the purchasing power of the marketplace to the consumer.” The notion was subsequently promoted by Ad Busters magazine, with events like a Zombie Walk, in which “The cheerful dead wander around malls, marveling at the blank, comatose expressions on the faces of shoppers” and Whirl Mart, in which “You and nine of your closest friends silently drive your shopping carts around in a long, inexplicable conga line without ever actually buying anything.” In 2011, Adbusters Media Foundation’s production manager, Lauren Bercovitch, started the Occupy Christmas movement, encouraging people to rethink their consumer habits to consider “Being ecologically aware, socially aware, culturally aware, environmentally aware…”

Choosing to participate in BND or to Occupy Christmas doesn’t mean becoming a Scrooge or the Grinch; this is, after all, and regardless of religious affiliation, a season of giving and celebration. Occupying Christmas means thinking about choice, rather than engaging blindly in consumerism, and that might still mean going to the mall for the latest Xbox release, but it doesn’t have to. Zenta 2013For me, it means making gifts. Sometimes I’ve made food items, like baked goods or homemade soups and sauces. This year, I’m trying my hand at hand soaps and bath bombs. Although I don’t have a lot of free time right now, I’ve started working on a sweater for my little nephew; knitting is quietly meditative on these long evenings and something it’s easy to pick up and put down as time allows. I may also buy some locally crafted items (I have a lot of crafty friends). The one place I do spend money this season is on charitable donations made in family members’ names. This is my way of recognizing that, although it’s fun to give and get presents, most of us lead pretty privileged lives and don’t really need very much. For me, this is a season of quiet reflection and celebrating with friends—things money can’t buy.

© Catherine Jenkins 2013

What I did on my summer vacation (and what gives me nightmares)

I remember dreading this first-day-of-school assignment, because we did the same thing every  summer. We went to the cottage, which I enjoyed on some levels, but it forced me away from my Dad and my friends, which I didn’t enjoy. I loved the daytime, being outside, swimming, lying on my grandmother’s quilts on the lawn reading comics and eating watermelon. But at night, the sheets were clammy with humidity and it was far too dark. Inevitably, I’d wake in the depths of the night, unable to see my hand in front of me, and get so scared I’d start crying. For years, all my nightmares were of being hunted by malicious forces at the cottage. Having spent months up there as an adult, I’m happy to report that the place of the cottage in my dream world has shifted to one of light.

This past summer, for the most part, I stayed in Toronto; the brief time I was at the cottage, my allergies were awful, so I avoided a prolonged stay. This summer’s highlight was certainly the band reunion, and everything leading up to and away from that.

In August, I made my annual foray to the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake (NOTL). I was late booking, so missed one play I wanted to see and was unable to book my usual B & B, although I did have a visit with Lynn, the owner. I had mixed feelings about my last-minute accommodations, but I enjoyed the birds’ nest behind one of the window shutters. The chatty chicks were nearly as big as their parents and beginning to venture into the huge maple a few feet away.

A small part of the Niagara peach harvest.

A small part of the Niagara peach harvest.

This year, I didn’t visit as many stores or spend much money, and I think I enjoyed NOTL even more as a result. For the first time, I was there during Peach Festival and I think that’s something I’d like to repeat. Three blocks of the main drag, Queen Street, were closed to traffic, allowing vendors to sell locally grown peaches and peach baked goods. In the evening, tables were set up along the street for gourmet dining and local wine sampling. The festival was alive with music; folk, rock, jazz, salsa—even bagpipes. The street felt very different, more relaxed, in part because I could wander back and forth as things caught my attention. The weather was fantastic, beautiful, clear and sunny. At one point, the local biker gang buzzed through town, about thirty of them, so hard not to notice. An interesting contrast. Lots of people were out enjoying the weekend; I even saw Shaw Festival actor Patrick Gallaghan out with his wife buying baked goods.

I’d intentionally left my Saturday evening free, thinking I might indulge in a gourmet meal. But I didn’t feel like it, so instead, I went on a Ghost Walk of NOTL with Lady Cassandra. This was a significant year for such a walk, as it’s the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812. For six months during 1813, the Americans occupied this small, but strategic, town, then called Newark. This summer, NOTL flew the vintage fifteen-star American flag alongside the Canadian flag, to mark the anniversary. Historically, there’s a lot of pain in this soil. When the Americans left, they razed the town, leaving about 400 residents, mostly women, children and the elderly, without shelter in December. Many froze to death. This cruel civilian attack was condemned by both the British and Americans. It also laid the course for reprisals, including the burning of the original White House. While the town was rebuilt, many lives were lost, some brutally, during the war years. And the losses didn’t end with the conclusion of that war. The room I stayed in is occasionally haunted by its former occupant, a young woman who committed suicide after her American husband was killed at the Battle of Gettysburg in the summer of 1863 during the American Civil War. Abagail reportedly doesn’t haunt romantics, so I was left in peace, however, those of you who know me well know that I’m highly impressionable when it comes to spooky stuff. I don’t do horror movies because the images haunt me for weeks or even months. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well and yes, I had to check under the bed a couple of times because I kept getting flashes from an Evil Dead movie trailer.

Self-portrait in Abagail's Rest. Spooky.

Self-portrait in Abagail’s Rest. Spooky.

And, oh yeah, I went to three plays. With the number of actor friends I have, I’m embarrassed to admit that I’d never seen the classic, Guys and Dolls. I was surprised that I knew at least half the score. Although I’d heard Bugs Bunny described as a Damon Runyon-esque character, I’d never understood the parallel until seeing this play. Wow. Talk about a culturally influential show! Peace in Our Time, a later Shaw play, wasn’t, in my opinion, one of his best. Although full of social and anti-war comment, it lacked the level of wit I generally associate with GBS. It felt very heavy handed and static. Oscar Wilde’s Lady Windermere’s Fan, on the other hand, was lovely. A thrilling satire that skewers Victorian morals, it contains such immortal lines as: “I can resist everything except temptation” and “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” I really enjoyed the acting, staging and costumes in this production. The music choices between acts were…unexpected: Velvet Underground’s “All Tomorrow’s Parties,” Rufus Wainwright’s “Art Teacher” and Katy Perry’s “Firework.” While I kind of understood the significance of the first two, the final choice seemed to overwhelm the play’s finale, but that is a minor complaint. If you want to visit Shawfest, all three plays continue into mid-October or early November.

This was the second time I took transit to NOTL and it just doesn’t work well, so I’ll probably go back to renting a car. The GO schedule doesn’t take curtain time into consideration, so play-goers may have to cab it from either St Catharines or Niagara Falls. Of course, the  other advantage of a car is that I can stock up on local fruit and wine before heading back to the city.

Morning Glory

Morning Glory

At home, my balcony garden really took off this year. As well as violas, morning glories, marigolds, portulaca, begonias, impatiens, and sweet potato vines, I tried a gerbera daisy for the first time. It’s been sending up bright new blossoms all summer. The quality and range of floral colours have been lovely and it’s been really gratifying to have bees visiting my sixth-floor balcony. Additionally, I tried growing vegetables this year. I started them indoors from seed, probably a little late. I have about a dozen tomatoes, half-a-dozen cucumbers, and an uncertain number of peppers coming along. It was more successful than my previous attempt at a balcony vegetable garden, and I learned a few things, so plan to try again next year.

CNE midway at dusk

CNE midway at dusk

My friend James and I made our annual pilgrimage to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) and did some of the usual things and a few new things. We saw an intimate performance of the Flying Wallendas’ high-wire act. We missed the Super Dogs, so we checked out the miniature horses instead. We also walked through the cat show, which consisted of a variety of over-bred felines, mostly sleeping in their carriers. I was really taken with the Savannah cats, until I found out that they’re a cross between a wild serval and a domestic cat, only recently accepted as a new breed. Although a striking and affectionate cat, I don’t know why people can’t just leave wild cats alone to do what they do in their natural habitat. I was also really glad to see a large booth for Ninth Life Cat Rescue, an organization that rescues cats from death row in shelters, housing them until they can be adopted. If you’re considering feline companionship, personally, I think adopting from a shelter is a more responsible way to go. We wandered through the international pavilion, watched people on midway rides, and, after much consideration, I ate a deep fried Mars Bar, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

In other news, I completed the revised draft of Pairs & Artichoke Hearts. I got some great feedback from one of my first readers, and there’s some further work I’d like to do before sending out queries. I was also able to get back to writing my PhD dissertation; last year’s car accident did a number on my cognitive abilities, among other things, but I feel like my head is finally fully back in the game. I drove for the first time since the accident, even at night and in the rain, and nothing bad happened. I attended four funerals and a wedding, the ratio perhaps a sign of age. I did some non-academic reading, including Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84 (all 925 pages), as well as some hybrid hardboiled science fiction, and some comic books. I went to a few movies, notably Red 2, Iron Man 3, and Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing.

I took more time off than I’d intended, but the upside of that is now I’m eager to get back to schoolwork! And that’s a good thing.

© Catherine Jenkins 2013

Winter 2008/9

Last fall, I had an incredibly strong compulsion to apply to return to school for my PhD. It was something I always knew I’d do; it was just a question of timing. I’d finally found a program that made sense to me, as well as a proposal I felt compelled to work on. Although I’d always assumed my PhD would entail work in the arts, when I sat down to give it serious consideration and write a proposal, I found myself putting forth an idea combining the work I’ve been doing since 2000 in medical communication and the care giving I’ve done for my parents these last few years. Although it was a bit of a surprise to me, it also made a lot of sense. It’s work of larger social value, but it’s also necessary personal processing, so it’s a win-win proposition.

After a lengthy wait and despite the odds, I was accepted into the Communication & Culture joint program at Ryerson-York Universities this fall. Ryerson campus in downtown Toronto is my very dynamic and happening home base. Although I was very excited to return to school and it felt really right, there was also a great deal of anxiety. I completed my MA twelve years ago and hadn’t done any classroom work for about fifteen. It’s a much larger university than Trent was. I didn’t know any of the profs and had only one contact among the students. Electronic media and computers have radically changed the academic environment and I had to learn whole new ways of researching, administering and compiling data. It was an intimidating course of action to engage with. But having survived the stresses of the last few years, nothing really scares me anymore.

Few stresses equal that of care giving. School is a very different kind of thing. While care giving is incredibly demanding physically and psycho-emotionally, it’s not particularly demanding intellectually; of course school is intellectually demanding, but lighter on the physical and psycho-emotional demands. I’d spent years in the company of geriatrics, in and out of seniors’ residences and hospitals. I felt old and tired and deeply exhausted. Back on campus, I was surrounded by youths (although some of my peers are similar in age to myself). My energy has greatly improved. I’m feeling more able and more hopeful than I have in years. On some levels it feels like a karmic readjustment, a rebalancing of energies. After having spent several years under the stress of care giving and the first nine months of 2008 recovering, I was suddenly thrust into this bright new world.

The first week of classes, I was so excited I could hardly sleep! I don’t recall ever being quite this thrilled about going back to school. But it took a good month for my brain to start functioning and making connections to previous studies. By the end of term, I felt like I was almost back on track, with hundreds of pages of theoretical reading accomplished, many small assignments and a couple of essays and seminar presentations behind me. It’s like trying to flex a muscle you know you used to have, but feeling unsure if the neurons are still firing to make it work.

So now the first term of my PhD is completed. Because it’s semestered, that means I actually have two credits toward the requirements. I haven’t received my marks yet, but am confident that I’ve passed. I’m signed up for another three credits next term and hope to accomplish the remaining two in the summer. From there, I’ll sit comprehensive exams, get my dissertation proposal approved and then research and write the dissertation itself. As a fulltime student (how weird is that?) I’m hoping to complete in the minimum time of four years. But we’ll see how it all shakes out. Although I’m pumped about engaging with this work, I’m also past the point in my life of beating myself up if I don’t quite meet a goal. And now that I’m in it, this feels incredibly right. The timing couldn’t have been better. I’m in a space where I can engage without distraction; I have research that will sustain me through the process. And I’m in a safe environment I know how to engage with at a time when I’m still feeling kind of shaky and vulnerable. School is a good place for me to regain strength and direction, while simultaneously accomplishing something of value.

After such a busy fall, in which I had very little time for my own writing, I’m hoping the winter term will be a little more manageable, allowing me to re-engage with the non-fiction manuscript, The Wisdom of Aging Gracefully. I’d like to complete it by next fall, but certainly before I begin serious work on the dissertation.

I hope you’ve all had a wonderful holiday season. My good friend, Kathy Mac (whose new poetry collection is forthcoming this spring!), was here for a visit the weekend before Christmas and helped me decorate my three-foot-tall tree on Yule eve, the Solstice. I plan to leave the decorations up until Twelfth Night, Epiphany eve. I had an orphans’ Christmas at my place; I made roast beast and friends came with some fine potluck additions. So we had food, wine and good company. It was a very relaxed, warm way to celebrate. It also means I now have enough turkey soup and stew in the freezer to last well into the next school term.

It’s been fun having the holidays at home. I’ve enjoyed visits with lots of friends, but have also had some quiet time to myself at home, or wandering through the cold, clear, bright air and snow. I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to reflect on the year that’s passed and focus on the year to come. I’m easing into what I think is going to be the wonderful year of 2009. Wishing you and yours the best of the season and a happy, healthy, prosperous and successful New Year!

Winter 2008

Last fall, and without much thought, I found myself buying a train ticket to the east coast to spend the holidays with friends. Christmas 2007 was the first Christmas I’d ever spent without my parents. I wasn’t sure what to expect. A complete change of scenery seemed like a good idea.

I was able to get a roomette for the overnight portion of the journey. Apparently VIA has generally discontinued the use of this equipment, opting instead for more opulent double rooms and suites, but for those of us who travel solo, roomettes are still the best way to go when we can get them. Between freight taking precedence and the snow, all my trains and connections were late, but I really didn’t mind or care. I was prepared with my new MP3 player, a very thick book and my knitting. Yes, in the wake of losing my mother, I seem to have taken up knitting again.

My dear friend and fellow writer, Kathy Mac, met me in Moncton and drove me back to her new house in Fredericton where I was met by a flurry of dogs, as well as her husband, her Dad and her Dad’s new girlfriend. Still others joined us for the Christmas feast. Although I missed my folks, I also felt at home and part of the celebration. Much of the holidays were spent doing plenty of nothing. After the family stresses of the last several years, that was a very welcome change and relief. The dogs had to be walked every day, so that was a good excuse to get outside and get some fresh air and exercise, but other than that, we talked and read and just hung out.

After a week in New Brunswick, it was time to re-board the train and head back, but not to Toronto. I stopped en route to visit my friend Péter in Gatineau. Here again, I was met at the train station and driven home where I was met by the flurry of a singular dog. We celebrated New Year’s with additional friends and a sumptuous feast, enjoying the goofiness of ringing in 2008 with dollar-store noisemakers and glow sticks. Much of the week was spent chatting, showing each other interesting Internet finds, watching movies and just hanging out. Of course, the dog had to be walked, so again that was an excuse to get outside and get some fresh air and exercise.

After two weeks of lying about, I came home five pounds heavier, carrying additional luggage, and much to the relief of my lovely feline beasties. The trip was a real and necessary time-out for me, a chance to reset the dials of my daily life. With so much of my time and energy having gone into parental care throughout my adult life, especially these last few years, not having that pull takes some time to get used to. While it’s liberating, it’s also kind of strange. It’s a major life adjustment that I’m still settling into. Although I’m getting a lot more writing done, I don’t yet know how to fill all this time.

While many Torontonians have been griping about this winter, with its snow and wind and cold, I’ve actually been enjoying it. This is a real winter, a real Canadian winter, at a time when we’ve become complacent about what that entails. But come on people, we live in Canada! We do get winter! Frankly, I’d rather have this than the messy, slushy overcast we usually get. This winter, it’s beautiful to look out the window. It’s a celebration of light. And while I’m hibernating perhaps even more than usual, it’s easier to take when I can look out at something joyous.

I am very fortunate to have good friends, people who understand me and are unquestioningly supportive; people I try to be there for when they need me too. I’m grateful that I was able to spend time in the homes of good friends through what might have been a rough couple of weeks otherwise. As the years continue, I’m sure I’ll come up with new and different ways to negotiate this season, but we certainly got it off to a fine beginning.

© Catherine Jenkins 2008

Jan – Feb 05

A couple of years ago, I remember becoming quite aware of the erosion of the middle-class, how the populace was rapidly dividing into haves and have-nots with not much in between. As that’s where I’ve generally resided, it was quite startling to realize that, as an artist in a society where artists are undervalued, I was rapidly sinking into the class of have-nots. Although I continue to struggle with this, things have been improving and so perhaps I’ve become a little less conscious of this division.

What I’ve noticed more recently, is the erosion of the middle ground, how the populace is rapidly becoming polarized either on the extreme right or the extreme left with not much in between. The 2004 American election is a prime example; the country’s virtually split down the middle, with those on the extreme right bearing arms and those on the extreme left moving north to Canada.

I’ve also noticed an increasing number of vegetarian restaurants, organic foods on the shelves of grocery store chains and not only blue, but now green boxes on curbs, while at the same time hearing news about the ban on Canadian beef, the safety of genetically altered food products and the amount of waste North Americans create and percentage of energy we consume.

As I say, there seems to be a profound polarization, but mostly, I’ve felt really proud to be Canadian this past Christmas season. Canadians gave record amounts to charitable causes instead of subscribing to the typical consumerism that predominantly American businesses shove down our throats. And maybe it was just me avoiding the malls, but I even felt that stores had less Christmas paraphernalia for sale. Many Canadians also chucked their artificial Christmas trees in favour of the traditional live tree and some (like myself) bought potted trees, which hopefully will survive for many Christmases to come. My apartment building got on the bandwagon by installing new water-reduction toilets, shower heads and faucets, just in time for the holidays. I think my sense that I’m on the same wavelength as many other Canadians, has made me feel less marginalized in other ways.

But there’s always more we could do to make our lives more authentic, more conscious, throughout the year; things we can do on a daily basis to in some small way change the world and bring it closer to our personal ideal. For instance, simplifying our lives by simplifying our living environment, recycling or discarding unnecessary stuff. This is something I’m continually working toward, but I still have a way to go. And I’ve realized that when one has a plethora of interests, there’s a tendency to accumulate a plethora of stuff, however, I believe I can reduce quite a bit without losing my trademark clutteredness and I know I’ll feel a lot better for it.

Jeanette Winterson says, “What you eat is the most political thing you can do every day,” and she may be right. Buying locally grown food helps support your local economy. Buying organic helps support a healthier planet. Both enable you to eat fresher, healthier food you can feel good about. Personally, I find cooking, the act of preparing a meal, even if it’s just for myself, very uplifting, creative and calming. Although admittedly I wrestle with the cost issue (organic food in my neighborhood is usually three to four times the cost of mass produced pseudo-food I can buy at the chain grocery store), I keep reminding myself that the greater the demand, the more ready the supply will become and eventually costs should adjust somewhat. Also, you get what you pay for; do you want to consume cheap food if it’s laced with pesticides, raping the soil and keeping suppressed workers suppressed?

I try to buy environmentally friendly household products (i.e., toilet paper, cleansers, detergents, etc.) that aren’t animal tested. There seems to be enough of a market, that the cost of environmentally friendly products is often on par with commercial products from corporations I’d rather not support. Such products are often easier not only on the environment, but also on me and my cats. I recently read that one of the most revolutionary environmental statements one can make is to go back to using a cloth hanky. How many boxes of tissues do you go through in a year?

In my small home office, I generally print paper on both sides (an advantage of an ink jet over a laser printer) and use recycled paper and envelopes. When I’ve used my paper to maximum advantage, I shred it and put it out for further recycling. I wish offices of a more significant size would subscribe to such practices or at least make hefty donations to replanting trees. In some small way they should help make up for the tonnage of new, virgin forest products they go through every year.

With events in Asia at the end of 2004, enormous attention and aid have gone into that region. From reports coming back, at least some of the aid is getting to where it’s needed. It’s great to see the world pulling together in the wake of such a catastrophic natural event, even though there have been political rumblings of various sorts. Now I’m hearing reports that farmers want to return to farming, that fishermen want to return to the sea, but they still lack land, boats and housing. I hope that once the spotlight’s off, these people won’t be forgotten, that international relief efforts won’t cease once the primary crisis has passed. Aid will be required in this region for some time to come as survivors try to reclaim their lives. I hope you’ve made or will make whatever donation your finances allow to one of the many organizations supporting efforts in this region.

While natural disasters remind us that we aren’t really in control of everything, loss of habitat, usually caused by human ignorance, maliciousness or lack of caring, is the primary threat to many animal species. Again, if your finances allow, I urge you to find some way to support pro-animal causes. My personal choice for years has been the World Wildlife Fund (www.wwf.org internationally or www.wwf.ca in Canada). The presence of animals on the planet makes us more human, more conscious of our status as animals and more conscious of our need to take better care of the earth. At the moment and for quite some time to come, she’s the only planet we’ve got!

And I will continue to support the arts and artists through the various types of work I do and by buying books, attending performances, going to galleries, etc. Why? Because the arts are essential to a quality life, essential for interpreting the world, our emotions and thoughts. The arts are essential for communicating with other members of our species, for leaving something to future generations. Because without the arts, personally, I wouldn’t find life worth living.

Wishing you all a happy, healthy, prosperous 2005. I think this has the potential to be a truly great year.