Tag: Observations

Citations: If We Had A Chance To Do It All Over Again

by barbstruestories, posted in Observations, Writing

I have been working on a report that is to include citations.  I am more of a big picture person and citations seem very detailed and finicky.   They slow down the whole writing thing. 

Citations a.k.a. references may appear in much of what you read-particularly if what you read is in academic areas, in research studies or professional journals.  References cite a source, a paper, a study, a book or another author and they tell the reader that the comment or idea or fact came from somewhere else.   You can even cite yourself if you’ve written and published something beforehand and wish to reference it in an article.   It’s really giving credit where credit is due.  The area of copyright is right up there with citation.  If it’s someone else’s work, art, image, idea, music originally then there is likely copyright to consider.  

My knowledge of citations and references is limited .  One could say it is more like a poor understanding or conversely one could say I am unencumbered by knowledge and able to look at things in a new light.  And it is in this new light that I offer up the following thoughts on citations.  If we were going to do this all over again and I was the President and CEO of Citation in the World Inc, there would be two levels of citation and you would choose your desired level before you write the article.

Level I:  Game changer

Criteria:  This article/research/report will make a huge difference to mankind. An example would be the discovery of the Higgs boson particle.  

Requesting this level would be very expensive.  You’d pay a large fee to Citation of the World Inc.  The author(s) must follow the academically sanctioned format for citations.   Permissions for copyrights must be requested and granted.  All citations will be checked and sources will be verified by Citation of the World Inc. (to justify the large fee).

Level II-Everything else. 

Criteria: This article/research/report will add (we hope) to a body of knowledge, perhaps lead to some action.  Oh, and when it’s published and I can add it to my resume! 

There would be no charge for requesting this level.  Instead of citations, there would be a standard disclaimer at the end of the article or report.  It would read:  I read a lot of background and research when I was writing this work.  I used the stuff that was relevant and good and the rest, while mostly interesting, didn’t make the grade.  I thank those people whose work has been used here.  If you are interested in knowing who they are and which work of theirs I used, give me a call.  I have it all written down on a piece of paper.  It’s not in any special format though.  

Going Home and Coming Back Home

by barbstruestories, posted in Going home, Happiness, Life's observations

I have just returned from a vacation to Saskatchewan.  Saskatchewan is home.  At least it was  for the first five decades of my life.  It has been said that you must leave home and return in order to see it for the first time.  It’s true for me.  You see the beauty, the scenery, even the people with eyes that are somehow fresher as a result of time and distance.  

Canadian folk singer Connie Kaldor grew up in Saskatchewan.  She has lived in Quebec for some time and yet has written several songs about her native province.  I became a fan of hers when I lived in Saskatchewan.  I always wondered how she could see things so clearly and it is possibly because of that time and distance.

My view of Saskatchewan is a biased one.  I was raised and educated there.   It’s where I met my husband, where we raised our daughter and where we were able to find meaningful and challenging work.  Much of our wonderful family still lives there.  When I visit Saskatchewan I feel it fills up my soul and I bring that feeling back with me when I return to our current home in Ontario.  Now we have two “homes” where we have family and close friends.  Who could ask for anything more. 

During your life have you been transplanted from your native home to another place on the planet?  If so, what is it like for you to “go home”?

Three Truths of Community Gardening in Ottawa

by barbstruestories, posted in Community garden plots, Green (sometimes) thumb, Life's observations

Green (sometimes) Thumb-Year Two

A former colleague used an interesting phrase when trying to make a point and wanting to convince you of the veracity of his comment.  “There is a truth”, he would say and then he’d go on to tell you that “truth”.  I always thought it odd, that phrase, and a bit of a push to have you believe something or make it true by prefacing it with that phrase.  

Yesterday at the “farm” (community garden plot), in addition to several weeds, I unearthed the following three “truths”.

1. There is no such thing as making a “quick visit to the garden”  

If you are a gardener, do tell me if it’s possible to have a quick visit to your garden.  There’s no such thing in my experience.  Oh, I’ll just go quickly and see how the tomatoes are doing.  I’ll pinch them back and bit and then I’ll leave.  Well, the tomato pinching is one thing, then you see potato beetles and off you go down those rows, and hey what about those squash that need watering and well look at how the weeds are taking over in that corner.  And so the planned 20 minute visit ends 2.5 hours later.  It is a truth there is no such thing as making a quick visit to your garden-whether it be flower or vegetable.  

2. Gardeners are generous in spirit and advice

Gardeners are a friendly sort.  It’s not a competition and they give freely of their advice.  “Cover up your cabbages until they are stronger or the moths will eat them”.    They commiserate in your sorrow.  They say, “Yes,  those cucumber beetles are terrible and no I don’t know what to do to combat them.  It really is too bad after all the effort you’ve put in but it’s a bad year for them this year. ”  If they have too many plants, they will ask you if you want some for your garden.  Here, take these.  I thought they were romaine lettuce plants and turns out they are swiss chard and now I’m drowning in swiss chard.  Or, have some peas and some beans, they are very good and here’s how I cook the beans.    It is a truth gardeners are generous in spirit and full of advice.

3. Gardening in Ottawa is an opportunity or observe the interaction of many cultures and to joyfully watch the mingling and richness of the interaction.  

Ottawa, Ontario is a very multicultural city.  This city has the 5th largest immigrant population in Canada.  Our neighbours in the allotment garden are a shining example of Canada’s rich multicultural citizenry.  Here’s an example of interactions yesterday in our little corner of the garden:

  • Lebanon: Lebanese born neighbour (Lebanese-first language, English-second language) brings over some sort of beans.  He doesn’t know their English name but explains how to cook and serve them and hands over a goodly amount to this unilingual anglophone.  He grows Lebanese beans.
  • Burundi: Burundi born neighbour who speaks either Rundi or Swahili along with French and English.  He grows African corn. He is a neighbour to the man originally from Lebanon.    They don’t seem to understand much of what each are saying but they stand around and point at different plants.
  • Francophone: the man who does roto-tilling with his garden tractor speaks French as a first language, English as a second.  The Lebanese neighbour tries to explain some sort of request to the francophone who does not understand.  When he’s not understood the Lebanese man starts to speak louder, as if that would help.

Quite a thing to be part of and to observe.  Makes you happy to be Canadian…even if you aren’t much of a gardener compared to many of those around you.  

If we stay at it long enough perhaps we will be able to make short visits to the garden (because we are on top of everything), we will have bounty to give away to others.  We already are part of the culture, although learning some new languages like Lebanese and Burundi would be a nice touch.

Do you have any garden observations to share?  Or multicultural experiences?

Ella’s Tree

by barbstruestories, posted in Death, Friendship, Life's observations, Planting a tree in memory

Chance Made Us Neighbours-Hearts Made Us Friends

Eight years ago today my dear friend Ella died.

Over twenty years ago, in another city and another time, we had new neighbours move in next door.  Our daughter, a single child, was standing on her bed watching the activity next door.  “Mom” she squealed with delight “They’ve got kids!!”.   Ella and husband Al had arrived with their four children.  Our families became close friends over the years.  We shared meals, we talked and laughed and experienced a great deal of life together as neighbours.  We coached a softball team together and naively hosted a shared garage sale thinking it would be fun.  We had keys for each others homes and often “shopped” in each other pantries if a trip to the store was inconvenient.    Two of the girls who are close in age to our daughter became sisters in everything but blood to her.  While the three of them are now separated by time and substantial distances, they remain close.

Ella and I became close friends.  I admired her strength, her humour, her energy and her capacity to love.  I marvelled at her blue eyes which burned brilliantly particularly when she was passionate about something-right through you I thought.  (based on those brilliant eyes and the sharp intellect I thought it wise to always stay on her team…not the opposing one.) 

While there are many things that could be said, the story I want to tell today is about Ella’s tree.  And something that happened after her death.  To this day when I tell the story I get goosebumps.

For a number of years before she died, Ella would travel to our family cottage at Crooked Lake in the Qu’Appelle Valley for a getaway.  She sometimes was with her family, sometimes with her dear friend Caroline and sometimes alone.  She loved the place-it was very special to her. When she died her family asked if they could plant a tree at the lake in her honour.

This is the story of the day we planted Ella’s tree.  I wrote and sent to Ella’s family shortly after the planting.

Crooked Lake from the top of the Qu’Appelle Valley

Ella’s Tree
On June 13, Al, Joanne (my sister) and I went to Lakeview Gardens to look at trees.  It was to be a tree in memory of Ella who so loved the lake and the times that she spent there over the years.  Al chose a crimson maple. It stood about 8 feet tall and the trunk was about 2 inches across. We planned to have the tree delivered to the lake the following weekend.

For those of us at the lake the week before the delivery, there was much discussion about where to plant the tree. On the left side of the lot, at the right side, at the front in the middle (no, that won’t do-Ella wouldn’t want the view spoiled). We acted like workers standing around a construction site waving our arms, pointing and doing everything but digging a hole.  Joanne didn’t stay the whole week but before she left to go back to the city, we said to her “Give us direction and we will dig the hole while you are gone.” She didn’t and so we waited for her return.

Joanne brought the tree out on the weekend of June 19. Saturday morning was a pleasant and sunny one and we retrieved the tree from the van. Then we started all over again. Should the tree be on the left side, should it be on the right, how far away from the current trees, how big will it grow (checking the tag and pacing off imaginary branches and leaves in all directions), what will it do to the neighbours’ view, what about the prevailing winds…..on and on. Finally Joanne said OK, this is the spot and away we went. Digging, digging, then putting root nutrient liquid in the hole, compost leaves from the back of the lot,a stake for stability and then the tree. We anchored the tree to the stake and stood back to survey our handiwork.

Kathy from the cottage next door came over and started to chat with Joanne. Kathy said she saw we had become arborists and Joanne said, yes, the tree was in memory of our dear friend Ella who had spent time at the cottage. Kathy knew Ella and was saddened by the news and she said:

“Oh, that lady…..that lady! I said to my husband, as you dug the hole…. where is that lady going to put her lawn chair for that’s where she always sat in the sun and read her book.”

And so, without realizing it, and with guidance that only Ella could give, we planted the tree where she did her reading on the lawn. I’m sure the rationale was that if she couldn’t sit in that spot then no one else could either. We will give the tree love and attention and we want to have you come to the lake to see it too.

It’s a lovely spot, a lovely tree and is a memory of a beautiful woman.

Joanne by Ella’s Tree June 2004

Epilogue
My sister Joanne died suddenly in September of that same year.  Two families and their friends devastated by the deaths of strong, loving and wonderful women.  Ella’s tree faired well for a number of years.  The cottage property was sold.  We didn’t leave the tree behind.  We couldn’t do that.

I Am Going to Live…How Long?

by barbstruestories, posted in Life's observations, Observations in retirement

Yesterday the Globe and Mail sported an article titled “How long will you live?  Just crunch the numbers”   The calculator was created by Ontario scientists and is based on real data on factors contributing to deaths in Ontario, Canada. You have to think, though, it would have relevance in other places too. The crux of the matter for the data is the degree to which our lifestyle choices affect our health.  

Being the inquisitive sort, I plugged in my numbers into the calculator:  rrasp-phirn.ca/risktools     They ask questions about your diet, exercise, alcohol consumption, etc in the past week.  I have had a pretty “healthy lifestyle”  past week.  It was a good time to take the test.  The number for me…..96 years old!  Are you kidding?  My parents died at 52 and 61 respectively  (I’m older than that now) but 96-that’s a ripe old age.

Some reflections on the whole thing.  First, if I had done the test that reflected my lifestyle choices when we were on vacation recently, my life expectancy would have fallen for sure.  Second, indeed, I may live for some 30+ years yet and yet it could be 3.0 years or .3 years or, or, or.   And third the answer to planning for what’s next is somewhere between scouting out long-term facilities and not buying green bananas.

To The Person(s) Who Stole Things In The Middle Of The Night

by barbstruestories, posted in Life's observations

To The Person(s) Who Stole Things From Our Car In The Middle Of The Night

At our house we have always tried to pay heed to what is called loss prevention

We take measures to keep our stuff ours without going too far

And wouldn’t you know you’d come by when we’d lost our attention

And in the middle of the night you had the nerve to go into our car

 

Indeed it seems it’s the one time in forever that the car wasn’t locked

We are responsible for part of story but then, so are you

And you got a few things that might well be hocked

While it won’t change a thing, there are some things I will hope will come true

 

May the parking change you took buy a coffee that tastes terrible

And the sunglasses-may they have run out of UVA and UVB

May the thought of what you’ve done make living with yourself hardly bearable

And for the largest score, well may it not set you free

 

The GPS was out of sight but you found and took it

And for you may it direct you post-haste

Rather than to the address to a deep ditch in a pit

And there you find that coffee you bought was Ex-Lax laced

 

You are without face, we don’t know who you are

No matter, respect for others’ property doesn’t faze you a bit

If you are male, then a quote from a Judith Viorst as you stole from our car

“When you zip up your pants may your zipper get stuck with you in it”

 

 

Quilting-The Twelve Step Program

by barbstruestories, posted in Life's observations, Mixed media artist wannabee

Until recently I thought I was a quilter.  I have a sewing machine and many quilting tools and a nice little fabric stash.  My friend Caroline and I have taken several classes together over the years.  During a recent class I had an epiphany.  I am not a quilter.  I am a class taker.  It starts and stops there.  I hope this will change over time but here’s the pattern we have observed-oddly enough it’s a twelve step program. 

  1. Notice a class and like the sounds of it
  2. Get excited about the class and the mythical outcome
  3. Ask the quilting ladies at the quilting shop- “how much homework?”.  They say “not much”
  4. Get the class instructions and supplies list.  Don’t look closely at the instructions
  5. Shop for fabric-very exciting-still on a high
  6. Look closely at the instructions-what?  You have to do a lot of things ahead of time?!
  7. Pack ALL the stuff you need and schlep off to class
  8. The quilting instructor is very nice and very accomplished
  9. There’s homework.  You realize the quilting ladies, nice as they are, lie
  10. You think-why did I sign up for this-so much work!!!
  11. You come to end of the class-hey that’s not so bad-but there are things to be finished after the class
  12. The items becomes a UFO in your closet (Unfinished Object)  

You may or may not be a quilter but perhaps you have taken classes or courses and then …well things wither on the vine-or in a heap in the closet.  Is our experience unique or are we among friends?



Splinters, an Odd Name and Missing Papers

by barbstruestories, posted in Life's observations

The Theory

It’s a marvel.  How events in one portion of life seem to repeat in another form at another time and place.  But the premise is the same.  This true story is about how things work to the surface.  (I know mostly and I hope particularly)

Splinters

Our mother loved us dearly.   She also wanted to make sure we grew up independent and not coddled.  We learned a great deal from her sayings.  We heard the sayings over and over again.  One of those sayings was “it’ll get better before you get married”.   An example would be a sliver or splinter in your finger that wouldn’t emerge immediately.  She’d say that if we left it for a while your body would naturally start to work in the area and expel that nasty splinter.  And it worked.  Wonderful mechanics inside our bodies.  Left alone, it worked to the surface.

An Odd Name

I once wanted to re-connect with a man I had heard speak several years before.  I thought he could assist greatly with a project at work.  Couldn’t remember his name.  I asked others who had been at the same presentation where he spoke.  They remembered him and the presentation but couldn’t recall his name.  I googled this and that and emailed here and there-nada.  I knew it was an unusual name but that’s as far as it went.  The nagging question was embedded somewhere in my brain-I picture some very disorganized files up there in that grey matter.  There’s little file structure, hyperlinks sometimes work, sometimes not, in my brain.  File formats are a combination of handwritten, typed, .doc and .docx, jpeg’s and magazine articles.  I am approaching an age where some youth might think the original files are chiselled on slate.  

One day many months after giving up on that mysterious odd name I was meeting a friend for lunch.  Arriving early, I opened the menu to browse and upon seeing a special for filet of sole, out of my poorly organized brain popped the man’s name!  Eli Sopow!  Now where was that and how did it get up to the surface when looking at a restaurant menu?   Left alone, it worked to the surface.

Missing Papers

Yesterday I looked for 5  papers that I have been going to process for some time.  Yesterday was the day I was getting around to it,  finally. They are each single pieces of paper-they have surfaced in a number of times recently.  They were never far away.  They were held together by a paper clip.  Or maybe I moved them to an envelope.  Whatever occurred, I cannot find them.  How does that happen?  Then you wonder, did I mindlessly throw them out or shred them?  Are they hiding with the wooden toothpicks (now missing for several weeks).  Left alone, I trust they will work to the surface.  Please tell me they will.  

Any and all advice on becoming organized will be most welcome.

Opposite Directions

by barbstruestories, posted in Observations

One Sunday morning, not so very long ago, I went to church.  Going to church is something I have done with decreasing frequency over the past several years.  

In the afternoon of that day I finished Christopher Hitchens‘ book “God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything”.  

When I told someone about the day, they said paradoxicality is the ability of adults to hold seemingly contradictory notions in mind at the same time.  

You’re not kidding…at least on that Sunday.

Have you read the book and if so, what did you think? 

Warning Light: Anti-Freeze

by barbstruestories, posted in Barb's "best"..at this moment, Happiness, Observations

I have a theory about a human “anti-freeze” phenomenon .  It is based on my experience with winter and living my entire life in the northern hemisphere.  Those of us who live where the snow falls and temperatures can drop into -30C to -40C range (and colder if you factor in windchill), well, we learn about dressing warmly.  We have anti-freeze in our car’s windshield washer fluid.  We buy fleece lined vests and woollen socks and down-filled gear.

The Theory

When winter first takes its place out our front door we shiver and shudder.  We find it very cold and we begrudge putting on the layers and the winter boots and the scarves and hats and on and on.  Then gradually, we become used to it and it doesn’t feel so cold.  My theory is we have some human anti-freeze that builds as winter progresses.  It makes the cold tolerable.  

The Bad News

Due to a design error, our human antifreeze does not have a very long shelf life.  It starts to dissipate somewhere around the end of January.  Slowly it ebbs away.  If our bodies came with fluid level lights (like our vehicles do) the low-level anti-freeze light would start to flash.  And then it feels cold no matter whether the temperature is moderating or not.  I recently read an article that put forward a hypothesis about why it feels colder as winter starts to exit.  It wasn’t an “ah ha!” moment for me.  I prefer my anti-freeze theory. Those of you have lived or do live in colder climates-do you think you run out of tolerance for cold as winter ebbs?  Tell me it’s so.

What can you do?

Think of something else: here’s a few pictures of some things that took my mind off thinking I was cold this past week.

A sunny day, mid-week snowshoe with a friend and a tremendously tasty dinner cooked by my husband.  Oven roasted potatoes and brussel sprouts along with a braised beef tenderloin topped with a blue cheese/thyme/breadcrumb dressing in a red wine reduction sauce.

 t

What can I say? It was outstanding. Who cares about the temperature outside. It’s likely all in my head anyway.