Mrs. Johnson

The one I remember the most 

was my piano teacher Mrs. Johnson.  

She taught grade six at our school.

My piano lesson on Saturday morning

seemed her most favorite thing

as if she'd waited for it all week long

that was how special she was.

Music was her first love and it became ours  

because of her.  Essie Johnson.

Every kid wanted to be first in line

when she called us to order.

When they ask "your favorite teacher"

as the confirmation identity question,

on computer stuff?

I always use her. 

Before and after

BEFORE

"Look at that mess next door!"

I was standing upstairs looking out my bedroom window.  It was a war zone.  When we bought our place here, there was a big billboard next door advertising a fancy new development.  Now, some months since, it has occurred to us that the billboard is gone and there is no construction.  Just a big empty lot filled with construction debris.  We hear that the company is in trouble.
At the street end, a huge trailer with bloody red graffiti.  And at the window where we stand, piles and piles of lumber, roles of construction mats coming apart. The graphic yellow of a dirty "detour" sign.  The ugly orange of drainage pipes.  A dirty board with BEER in red ink.  A mess.
Merv takes pictures and goes to City Hall.  He knows there's a by-law about littering. The girl at City Hall looks at the pictures. "You have to look at that?  I think you can count on something happening".
She's right.
In a week, a company truck arrives.  He paces about looking things over.  Then another truck arrives.
A huge arm picks up piles of lumber and carefully places them in the first truck.  Merv is thrilled with this.  "It's all digital. He's telling the arm what to do with that little box!  Hey, they'll be finished in no time".
He's forgotten about "island time".  People who tell you about "island time" do it with a knowing smile.  Sure enough, after one load, they're gone for the day.
Next day a whole new cast.  For an hour, three young men form organized piles of wood with energy and enthusiasm. Then they too disappear.  In the afternoon the company truck arrives again with a different group of workers.  These guys just pick up stuff with their bare hands and throw it into the truck. No fancy black box and dramatic lifting arm.  There's a lot of smoking and sharing of cigarettes.  We're not sure they should be driving.
Third day.  Company truck again with older guy in company T-shirt.  They re-locate a big pale blue barrel (obviously a heavy one) against the neighbor's fence right across from our window. They pile
miscellaneous lumber close to the barrel. We know they have washed their hands of these items.  The barrel bothers us most.
Half an hour later, a big big Home Hardware truck with one of the big loader arms!  We rush with our coffee to stand at the window and watch.  It's a good show. The last of the big heavy blocs of lumber are loaded and tied down.  Halfway through this process, another huge truck. "Island Towing".  He's here to get the huge trailer with the red graffiti.  Slowly and with dignity, the trailer slides upwards, upwards on to the truck bed.  It's belted in 4 places, and before we know it, it's gone.  The job is done.

AFTER

Epilogue.  There's still small debris.  But it's better.  A lot better.
Our realtor is impressed.  The owner of the townhouse development is impressed.  He shakes Merv's hand and invites him immediately into the strata committee.
Merv is still grumbling.  "I'm going back to City Hall.  That blue barrel has to go".

Spring

“symbiosis”

by Dorothee Lang

in between tulip bulbs

the question:

am i growing this garden

or is this garden

growing me?

Cosmetics

The cosmetic line was called "Concept Now".
My girlfriend Donna was using this stuff, and she was gorgeous.  She made sure I was one of her first customers.  It was pretty expensive. Being newly married, we didn't have a lot of money.
Donna organized a "Concept Now" party at her house. These parties were always wild. No one can do "girl talk" as well as a roomful of 20-somethings having a few drinks .
It was a good product. Always keen on skin care, I used the creams and cleansers religiously.  I wasn't much for makeup, but Donna insisted that I get their "blush" product.  It was a wonderful copper-y color with a bit of a glint.  Sprinkle some on a tissue, rub the brush into it and it lasted for 3 or 4 weeks.  Pick up the brush and apply gently. I loved it right from the first moment.
I stayed with the "Concept Now" line for many years.  Then Donna left town, and I discovered Shiseido.  But she was right about the "blush".  I still remember us looking at that little bottle 50 years ago and her saying "Wow, there's a lot of powder in there!  You'll be long gone before this little bottle is empty!"
I don't where Donna is today, but her "Concept Now" blush is still alive and well.  In fact I held the bottle up to the light this morning just as she and I did 50 years ago, and it looks as if there is still a third of the bottle left!
Does is sound weird to think of this little bottle as a friend?  I don't think so.

Feeding Babies

I breast fed all my babies.
Strangely enough, 50 years ago, it was a struggle.  Feeding babies with bottles was the "new" thing.  And it seemed a bit scary to me.  There were complicated "formula"s that had to be very carefully put together.  And strict procedures for sterilizing the bottles.  I felt threatened by all this.  Had vision of pots of boiling water, and spilled milk on the floor and counters.  Baby crying off in the distance waiting for food.  I can't remember what the rationale was.  I can't remember what the procedure was for the breasts filling with unwanted milk.  But you can take my word for it.  This was the big deal.  Your baby was going to be a lot healthier with this new system.  Nurses would come in and ask if you needed help getting started.  They were ready with pamphlets and typed info sheets from the public health office.  When I think back on it - it's yet another example of how we swallow new ideas only to find later that they are flawed.
I didn't talk about it much.  I felt old-fashioned.  I felt I was letting my baby down, that he wasn't going to be fed nearly as well as he should be.  I hesitantly asked girl friends about their experience making the formula.  They sounded up-beat and efficient.  "You're breast-feeding?  How come?"  My confidence crumbled further.
As I recall, the "formula" method of feeding the baby lasted for quite awhile.  If there were strong supporters of breast feeding still around, they were being ignored.  In fact, mothers in far off third world countries were also doing this!  Can you imagine how difficult it would have been to sterilize bottles and make this formula in that heat! It's strange how we think that we know more than the human body knows.  After all, it has been fine-tuning itself for 4 million years.
After some 20 years of the "formula in a bottle" way of feeding babies, breast feeding became popular again and baby bottles appeared less and less often.
I stopped asking about it and breast fed all my babies in complete comfort and love.  It's one of the great things about being a Mom.