Canucks won their do or die match against Chicago! I don’t understand why they can’t play that well consistently. I suppose beating the Hawks in two more games is within the realm of possibility but seems unlikely. Funny, I try to ignore hockey but you know you’ve got it bad when you find yourself actually reading the Sports section. I always manage to get caught up in the excitement, recently and entirely sucked into Team Canada-Olympics games. I can’t help it; it’s in my DNA according to my long gone mother Corona Beliveau, second cousin to the great and beloved Montreal Canadian Jean Beliveau, still going strong, last I heard.
They do share the same thick, dark hair and good looks but I took everything Ma said with a grain of salt. She was also Irish, a real queen of blarney and consummate storyteller. I’m convinced it’s one of the reasons I am a poet. She also said my grandmother Genora Beliveau, would throw empty mickey bottles at the opposing team’s players, ejected from more than a few games. Grandma was quite the spitfire, sadly dying of cancer when I was just a toddler. On that note, Happy Mother’s Day! My boys took me out to dinner, a nice break from the routine.
I did go out Saturday night though, to W2 and Jamie Reid’s book launch for Prez, his Lester Young book, Prez being Billy Holiday’s nickname for the legendary saxophonist. Kim Goldberg opened with a performance of poetry from her book Red Zone, shining an unerring spotlight on Nanaimo’s homelessness and urban decay. Pete (Trower) read some of his musical jazz poems and Jamie read from his lyrical homage, backed sublimely by Craig McCaul on guitar, Niko Friesen and Jen Hodge on bass. I met fellow ROCKsalter George Payerle and got to visit with pals Daniela Elza, Kagan Goh, Warren Dean Fulton, Shannon Rayne, Carol Reid and Kedrick James, a superb master of ceremonies. A fabulous evening and as Jamie said, “Dancing until the dust rose in clouds from the floor, / they put sweet rhythms into Lester’s horn.” Pete remarked he was happy to see young people playing jazz. It’s not going away. Jazz will always have its aficionados, just like punk rock, the Vancouver breed immortalized in Susanne Tabata’s Bloodied But Unbowed, premiering at DOXA Documentary Film Festival this Thursday. I’m sure to run into some of my punk rock homies though DOA is on the road, not surprisingly. Susanne got in touch with me at one point for an interview as I was in the 45s with Randy Rampage and Brad Kent but the meeting never happened. Story of my life, I swear! Surely I’m not the only one. Reportedly there are over 100 hours of out-takes.
Oh well, it’s a . . .
lovely spring day here on the island’s sunny southern slope; robins nesting, hummingbirds buzzing, deer raiding the bird feeder. My terriers, Brinda and SamIAm are let out onto the deck, ostensibly to scare them off. The fawns’ white rumps quickly retreat though often the does just stand and stare until we hurl a chunk of firewood or run out yelling and waving our hands. They have no natural predators, no cougar, no hunting though I understand cross bows are allowed on the island. I’ve never heard of anyone using a cross bow but surely it must occur, or has occurred. In any case, these are some pretty human habituated deer. I am always moved for some reason coming upon their beds amongst the needles and moss during my hikes. A bald eagle circled the yard the other day, right after a hailstorm. I wonder if it was stalking the plump squirrels that also relish birdseed. Normally, they don’t fly so close to dwellings but the life force is ruthless.
Death and taxes will get us though, in the end. The HST (harmonized sales tax) debate is heating up. Who cares what I think but I’m certain it will go through. All I know is we’re some of the most heavily tax burdened citizens on the planet and if the “PST stifles economic growth,” how is it that the HST won’t? I suppose I need to read more on the subject. In the meantime, carry on shall we? Bloodied but unbowed, indeed!