“Why are you looking at that tree?”
“To really see it.”
from the Kino Pictures film, POETRY, directed by Chang-dong Lee
So I wound up at the Railway Club on the wrong night, confused my Tuesdays, the last one with the upcoming. Flu fog, that’s my excuse. My buddy poet Pete (Trower) and I wound up having a lovely time chatting with Jenna and Stuart. A curious thing happens when I’m with Peter. Not the charming aforementioned, but *some* people appoint me his caretaker. Though I’ve become his defacto agent and honoured to be his friend, Pete is not disabled, I point out, just old. 81 to be exact, and doing all right. Must have something to do with all that lumberjacking. Or carousing. Pete gripes sometimes, not without good reason, but I remind him it’s a privilege to grow old and that fortunately he is not afflicted with diabetes, Alzheimers or heart disease like many of his peers. If ever I’m fortunate enough to reach my golden years, I don’t want people patronizing me. Far as I can tell, there’s a fine line between respect and condescension.
In any case, Pete thoroughly enjoyed being feted and fawned over, interviewed really, about the history of the Railway, his old stomping grounds, and the city, his description a far cry from the travel brochures. I used to hang out at the Railway during our punk rock heyday but Pete had better stories. The place used to be teeming with drug dealers, pimps and hookers, who took clients across the street to what is now the St. Regis Hotel. That particular sort of vice has been driven further underground or afield but certainly, there is no dearth of action and it’s still a great live music venue.
I’m making progress on the upcoming Irving Layton Centenary, working in tandem with Rob Taylor and Diane Tucker in Vancouver to promote both our events. I will host a shindig here on the island on Saturday, March 10, and they will present a celebration the next day as part of the Dead Poets Reading Series. I hope to web cast and will definitely videotape/document the readings. Here’s Max Layton’s blurb:
“Canadians coast to coast are celebrating the 100th anniversary of the birth of one of our greatest poets, Irving Layton, who was born on March 12, 1912. Perhaps never before in history has an entire country united to remember—of all things!—one of its poets. Celebrations are scheduled in every province and this page serves as our communication HUB for such Events. If you would like to organize an Event in your own community please contact Max Layton at maxlayton@rogers.com.”
Oh, and I forgot to announce that Charles Butler of Winnipeg, Manitoba won the draw for my blog contest a few weeks back. Congratulations Charles! My books and CDs are on their way, just in time for Christmas. Woo hoo! HO HO HO
aah the railway club, spent too many forgotten nights there but i’ll remember ray condo and his hard rock goners. i’m sure i saw other very good bands there. memories are just a bit … hazy (ahem)
Good to hear the old logger is still a viable concern. Trower’s old poem about the days when sawmills were our mothers is my favourite by anybody, ever. Us woodsy drink too much types never expect to still be at it and to it in ours 80s or beyond. Rusting and burning out are not the only life options: some of us keep on rolling until there’s no rubber left on our rubber souls.