A brought home an assignment for school. The task? To write a paragraph that convinces your family to let you have the pet of your dreams. Here’s what he came up with:
Dear Mom and Dad,
Can I please have another cat? I find that coal needs a friend, plus, cats are quiet and me and K could take care of his / her’s evry need. The new cat could live in our room until he / she is old enough to rome around the house. Cats are also housebroken, so you woudn’t have to worry about stepping in some you-know-what. If we get it from the humain society, it would save that cats life! Can I please have another cat?
Sincerely,
A
Seems like a pretty convincing argument. We’ll see…
The weather over the past few days has been, to state the obvious, highly unusual. A record-setting heat wave has brought summer to Ottawa in the final days of winter. While some fret about the latest evidence of global climate change, most have shed their winter jackets and toques for tank tops and flip-flops.
It was just four years ago that we received nearly 14 feet of snow. Remember the guy who built a huge snow wall beside his driveway in Orleans? Here’s a little reminder from March of 2008:
Not so this year. Sure, we still have some snow on the ground (which people in Southern Ontario will find odd). We also had temperatures in the mid-20s, which led to a memorable sight on Sunday afternoon.
Yes, that’s an honest-to-God water fight in the snow. Take a few boys, add some bathing suits, rubber boots, water guns, and snow, and you have the makings of a memorable afternoon. I think we’ll be talking about this for years to come.
K quickly forgot the cardinal rule of water fights – Don’t Get the Parents Wet.
Nothing makes a six-year-old boy happier than a loaded water gun.
Deep in the recesses of my brain are bits and pieces of the thousands of hours of television and movies I watched as a kid. Brief clips of David & Goliath, that staple of Sunday morning cartoons, merge with the opening credits of Battle of the Planets and the theme song to Casper the Friendly Ghost.
I have vivid memories of one particular movie and recently spent some time trying to track down a copy. It was a short film called The Violin, and I remember my dad showing it to us using a school projector. We had a copy of the book that accompanied the movie, and I’m sure I read it dozens of times. The book has long since disappeared, and I hadn’t seen the movie in probably 25 years.It took a bit of searching, but I finally came across some information about The Violin. It turns out it was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film back in 1974. The old man was played by Maurice Solway, who enjoyed a long career as a professional violinist and composer in Toronto. Despite the pedigree, actual copies of the movie seem to be rare.
Perhaps it’s just nostalgia, but I find the movie incredibly moving. I identify with the two boys in the movie – with their blond hair, it’s not hard to picture them as me and my brother, or my own two boys (and in a funny coincidence, I share my first name with both of the young actors). It’s easy to recall the excitement of saving coins in a glass jar to buy a treasure you’ve seen in the store window (something I still do), or the disappointment you feel when it turns out the object of your desire is out of reach.
Most of all, I am touched by the relationship between the old man and the boys. I see him as a father figure, patient and generous with his time, passing on a love for music. The fact that he leaves at the end without really saying goodbye, and the image of him rowing away by himself as the two boys watch from the shore, hits close to home.
Maybe one day I’ll find a better copy of the movie, perhaps even an old film version that I can screen for my boys using an old school projector. In the meantime, this version will have to do.
Back in the summer I wrote about my close encounter with a Great Horned Owl at the Ptarmigan mine outside Yellowknife. It all happened so fast, and I barely got a look at the owl as it barreled into my head.
Thanks to the wonders of YouTube and ultra slo-mo, I now have a vivid reninactment of what an owl attack might actually look like (if we were able to slow down time considerably). Keep in mind that this is an Eagle Owl, which looks much bigger than the owl that came at me.
It’s a little scary and also incredibly beautiful, especially from the 32-second mark on. I strongly encourage you to watch it in its full 1080p HD glory for maximum effect.
That might be a little harsh. And inaccurate. Perhaps a better way to put it would be, “there are certain behaviours exhibited by members of the public when they attend performances that cause me anxiety and anguish”.
Off the top of my head, I can think of about eight things that audience members do that severely hinder my (and I assume others’) enjoyment of the concert. The next few posts will detail some of my pet-peeves.
Latecomers
It happens at every concert. At the end of the overture or the first movement, the doors to the hall swing open and a dozen people try to sneak to their seats. It’s not so bad if it happens during applause, but I find it excruciating when it’s between movements and the conductor has to cast little looks over his shoulder to see if it’s O.K. for the concert to continue.
At least in concerts there’s a natural break. Theatre and dance performances often don’t, and you must attempt to ignore the usher’s flashlight as the latecomers try to find their seats. I find it especially distracting when they’re down front – no amount of hunched-over tip-toeing is going to make you invisible to the 800 of us who are trying to enjoy the show.
I know things happen. The babysitter was late, the garage was full, it took forever to get your bill at the restaurant. You’re probably stressed out from trying to race to the theatre in time. I still don’t think you should try to make it to your seat in the middle of the row. I suggest you find a quiet spot at the back and wait for the intermission.
Once upon a time, I was at a concert where the soloist instructed the front-of-house staff not to let in any latecomers until the intermission. The first half was completely devoted to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. So, if you were a couple of minutes late, you missed a memorable performance by a world-class violinist. Some might consider that unfair…but not me.
