Mom

Well, it's been a while...September 3rd. That seems a lifetime ago now. In the past few posts I mentioned my mother and her neighbourhood of Champlain Park. That's because I was spending so much time with her. We all were - her kids and grandkids, as we could see her declining. Dad died in March of 2018. My five siblings and I started staying overnight about a month before he died because Mom was also very ill at that time. After he died we kept up our night-time presence, simply because we didn't want her to be alone. It seemed that 90 was not a good age to learn to live by yourself. As time went on and Mom's health gradually deteriorated, we kept up the vigil because we didn't want her to fall or have some kind of accident while on her own. So we kept up a dinner and sleepover schedule until she died, on September 29th.

It was a special time. Yes, it was a big commitment but it felt right to care for her, as she cared for us, all our lives. I am grateful to my supportive husband, who was very understanding, as Mom's needs increased. As you may have read, in my Corona music post of July 16th,  there were some very special moments. I loved putting on the Herb Alpert albums for her, as we ate our breakfast. I enjoyed playing the old music and hymns on my childhood piano, as she lay in her hospital bed. Sitting on her front verandah with her, enjoying the warm days and having a visit with a friend was a real treat. Listening to stories of her youth was precious time spent together. 

Of course this pandemic complicates everything. It certainly complicated our decisions about how to care for mom, how many people to have in the house, eating inside or outside etc. Mom's back porch and front verandah were well used this spring and summer for visits through the windows. Sometimes we shared meals, with Mom and one of us eating at an inside table while others kept their distance, eating at an outside table on the verandah. She was very grateful for the visits and for the gift of being able to live out her days in her own home. We were blessed to have a lovely family doctor (Farrah Issa) who made house calls! 

In the end there were visiting nurses and it all got complicated with frequent medication changes and the rental of necessary medical equipment. Throughout it all we were the recipients of many acts of kindness. In Mom's obituary we mentioned her pharmacy, an unusual credit in an obit. That was because we were so appreciative of their understanding and kindness. Many times when I went to pick up Mom's medication the pharmacist (Badr), before handing me the prescription, would take the time to stop and say, "First, tell me, how is your mother doing?" Another pharmacist there, on a day when we were switching to a more powerful pain relief medication bothered to say, "She must be in a lot of pain. I'm so sorry." These were not big acts. They did not take much effort, but it's the first time I have ever had someone in a pharmacy express sympathy like that. It is just so touching when someone reaches out, with understanding and compassion. 

I am especially grateful for my children and their families who called and visited mom regularly and supported me as best they could, both before and after mom died. It makes her loss more bearable, to have their love. 

And that leads me to my excuse for not posting anything here before this. Since Mom's death we have all been overwhelmed with kindness. In the first 6 weeks after her death I received something every day - food, flowers, cards, texts, emails - all expressing care and concern. It took me a long while to even start to acknowledge those kind people. It didn't feel right to post anything in this space when I hadn't properly thanked the people who had bothered to reach out to me. Even now, there are still some kind emails that I would like to answer. 

In both the reception of these kind messages and in my attempts to answer them, I feel Mom's presence. She was the kind of person who reached out to others, who dropped off a ham or other food to the grieving family, who sent a card. She was the person who taught us to thank people. It helps me, in my grieving, to write the cards, to call the people she cared about. 

When Dad died, I remember that horrible Humbolt hockey team bus crash, happened on the day of his funeral. It made me think that our loss paled in comparison to what those families were going through. Although I miss Mom terribly, I feel a similar sensation now. There so many families with such great losses this year., There are families who certainly didn't get to have a mother as long as we did, who didn't get the chance to say goodbye, to be with her as she left us.

And so I am grateful, that we had such a wonderful mother for so long. I will write more about her later. There are so many things that could be said about her. Her obituary can be found here.

This was Mom, in the summer of 1981, holding our first child, Aaron.

Among the many items at her home is this lovely ode to mothers. She said it was always at her childhood home. To me, it sums her up perfectly.

Infill Housing #24

Ah...Kenora Street in the summer. I wish I could say it's been relaxing and quiet. Here's a photo recap of our street this summer.

The construction at # 77 is progressing quickly, which is about the only good thing you can say about  it. After having the unfortunate experience of witnessing so many infills being constructed, we're getting  familiar with all the steps involved.

This truck is carrying the forms for the basement (cement) walls at #77.

With work still ongoing at #79, there are always multiple trucks and deliveries.

At #79 they decide to work on  landscaping and driveways.

At #77 there's another delivery.

The city plays it's part in their never-ending game of Catch Up. They will never win this game of replacing our demolished sidewalks.

At #77 the walls are in place, so we now know where the doubles will be.

The road is frequently blocked.

You never know who or what will park in front of your house.

If only they would have stopped here, with just the two stories.

But no, they went for a third story. What a shame for their next door neighbour.

Meanwhile at #79, the landscape effort grinds to a halt.

So, our tax dollars go towards the repair of these sidewalks.

Of course the sidewalks need replacement, after all these heavy trucks demolish them.

Why am I paying for this work?

Meanwhile, on "lower" Kenora, another original house awaits its demise.

Another delivery

So here's the thing. Not only were these roofers walking around, up on that third story, with no harnesses or hard hats. They ate their lunch on the sidewalk, in the shade of our front lawn. As we drove out of the laneway , all we could smell was dope! They were high in more ways than one!

This safety sign on the construction fence is very useful.

Last but not least. One morning I opened the front door and a terrible stench greeted me. This truck had just emptied the port a potty.

When work started at #77, the lovely family who live next door asked if the port a potty could be moved to the other side. They were told that it would be moved. If there was any justice in this situation, that smelly outhouse should be right next to #79, the other infill builder, not next to a family with two young children, who like to play on their front lawn. The outhouse was never moved. Infill stinks!

Always a challenge

Nothing is simple anymore. Some days it seems that everything is a challenge. You can't just pick up the phone and call a company to ask a question. You have to listen to instructions, hope that you select the right number, wait for fifteen minutes and then hopefully, you might be connected with another human. Often you are told to call back because of high call volumes. Or you are advised to go online to solve your problem. Every store, every company wants you to set up an online account. You can't just pay them. Recently my elderly mother was advised to go online to pay for mass intentions at her church. No more visiting with the church secretary and handing over some cash. That is so old school. Okay, so I am sounding elderly myself now. It's just that after a long absence here, I decided to update my blog and find that there is a new format (interface) to learn. I am severely challenged in technical matters already. Having to navigate a new format is a hurdle I don't need. So, please bear with me as I struggle to adjust. Whenever I feel frustrated with technology I wonder how the rest of the population is managing. I'm no genius but I have a reasonable education and work experience. What about the portion of our population without those advantages? Those who, through no fault of their own, have been left in the dust as society has done this enormous pivot? How can they keep up? (Right now I can't figure out how to space out these paragraphs!)

Infill Housing # 23

It's just a short walk from Kenora St. to my childhood neighbourhood of Champlain Park. Infill housing is very much evident there, especially on Cowley Avenue this summer. The street is only three blocks long. Here are the stages of infill:

1. Here in the middle block, at # 210, sits one of the original houses, now empty, with an uncut lawn. It is probably next on the chopping bock.

2. At the corner of Cowley and Clearview sits a house that has been there since my childhood. The construction fence has been erected and the trees cut down, so its days are surely numbered.

3. At the top of the street a little house was demolished yesterday.

4. Back near Clearview,  a single house is being replaced by these doubles.

That is just the current situation. These four projects are in addition to the many already completed infill projects on Cowley.

I took Carleton Avenue home. It's the next street over. Carleton is probably one of the most re-built streets in the city. There may be more new, than original homes there now.

This hole for a new place, probably doubles, was recently dug.

Meanwhile, at the corner of Carleton and Amanda (formerly Premier),  crews were busy taking down a sizeable tree. The doubles there were built a while ago. Sometimes the trees survive the building of new homes but are irreparably damaged during construction. After a year or two, they deteriorate and have to be removed. Of course if Ottawa insisted on proper tree protection zones during construction, we wouldn't be losing our urban canopy.

It feels like this re-building will never end. How many of our original homes will survive and for how long? Does the city and province's policy of intensification totally trump preservation of traditional neighbourhoods? Will the whole city look like the suburbs? Actually, there are suburbs that look a whole lot better than some of these re-built streets. Some suburbs show evidence of thoughtful planning. There is no vision here. It's the wild west, as far as these developers go.

City hall is pleased to be generating increased taxes and developers are ecstatic that the city has given them free reign to re-shape our neighbourhoods. They're laughing all the way to the bank. For us longtime residents, in established neighbourhoods, this is just depressing.

Corona Music

Like every other aspect of our lives, this pandemic is affecting us all musically. We've still got our tickets for the James Taylor concert we were supposed to attend in April.  While I certainly miss going to concerts, I'm very grateful for all the events we  attended in the past. How fortunate we were to see Simon and Garfunkel, the Mc Garrigle Sisters, the famous Pauls - Simon and McCartney. Our favourite Bluesfest concert featured James Taylor. It was an absolutely perfect summer evening with all us old fogies, happily seated in our lawn chairs.   At Ottawa's NAC last fall we enjoyed a memorable evening with my mother, soaking up the music and wit of Ireland's Chieftains. Depending on how long this situation lasts, we may never see some of these older performers again. Oh, for the good old days of gathering in large crowds  - thousands of us singing along together - all our airborne germs mingling happily!

At the beginning of these strange times we tuned in to virtual concerts and singalongs. Lately I've been re-discovering some music from my past. When I'm at my mother's home I sometimes open up her old stereo. In the early sixties, when Dad bought it, a family friend told him he was crazy. He was convinced that us six kids would wreck it. However, here we are, all these years later, with the stereo still in fine working condition.

While going through the old albums I've found some gems. Most of them are Mom and Dad's but a few of them are from our teenage years. Here's one of my favourites. It's a K Tel record, with hits from the 60's. Who doesn't want to listen to Summer in the City or  Silence is Golden ?

I love the big band records as much as mom. And then there are all the Irish ones. However, the records that we keep playing are Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass. Most of their music is fast, energetic, and joyful. Playing it brings back pleasant memories from days long gone - a simpler, optimistic era.

And then there is the piano - the same one I practiced on as a child. After years of ignoring our piano at home, I have started playing at mom's. It's good for my fingers and good for my tiny brain to try to remember chords and key signatures again. Most of all it makes me feel good. I play songs from Mom's era and also  enjoy playing many of the old hymns. It's been a real pleasure to remind myself of these classic melodies. Music...my silver lining.

Happiness in Corona Times

This piece was written a while ago. 


Happiness in Corona Times

My priorities are shifting. Before Covid 19 re-shaped our world, I may have wished for a European vacation, a river cruise,  or maybe an island holiday with a gigantic  beach house, where our children and grandchildren could enjoy weeks of leisure together. What happiness that would bring, I imagined!

And now? Now I just wish that our daughter Norah and her family, who live in Toronto, could come and visit us at home in Ottawa. What I really want is an early morning snuggle in bed, with our grandchildren. When their family sleeps here, they often jump into our bed, first thing in the morning. Even if they stay here, later in the summer, should we be that physically close?

Of course we have been having plenty of virtual visits. If nothing else, this pandemic has forced old geezers like ourselves to become more familiar with computer software. Most Sundays we have a Facetime dinner together with them and our sons who live here, in town. We also have regular Zoom visits with the kids, where we try to augment their parents’ teaching sessions with songs, stories, some math, reading and a lot of jokes. Lately the Oompa Loompa song from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a big hit. In between our regular sessions, we sometimes play games like Checkers and Snakes and Ladders on Together, another great piece of software.

On a sunny Saturday in May, we had a welcome reprieve. Norah’s family drove from Toronto to Peterborough and we drove there from Ottawa. We chose St. Anne’s Church, my husband’s childhood parish, as our meeting place.

It had been nine and a half weeks since we had last seen the kids - the longest stretch since our grandchildren started arriving. It was strange to see them and not touch – no welcoming, off-their-feet hugs for the kids, no heartfelt hugs for Norah and Sean, who are exhausted from the ongoing demands of work, child care and home schooling.

And yet, just seeing them was wonderful. Although we enjoy our regular virtual visits, nothing can compare with the real thing. Nine and a half weeks is not a long time but I’m sure Avery has grown a couple of inches since we last saw him. We sat in our lawn chairs, on the church grass and enjoyed our individual picnic lunches, under the shade of the maple trees. In that space, in these unusual circumstances, for that short time, life stood still and we simply enjoyed being together. The empty church parking lot was the perfect place for Avery and his five year old sister Eliza, to scooter around. Eliza showed off her new roller-blading skills. After a while, Pat and the kids all got out their ukeleles and played a few songs together. Looking across the street to his childhood elementary school brought back many happy memories for Pat.

There was no ocean, no beach house, no water slide, no swim-up bar, no spa. It was just a two hour, family picnic on a church lawn, but it was perfect.

To end our visit, we went over to Fairhaven, the long term care facility where Pat’s mother, Rita resides. People often ask us if we are worried about Rita, living in long term care right now. We’re feeling very lucky with Rita’s situation. There have been no Covid cases at Fairhaven and right from the start, we have been very impressed with the stringent measures put in place there, to safeguard staff and residents. We receive regular updates about Fairhaven  from Lionel Towns, the executive director, and personal updates on Rita’s condition from the very caring staff on her unit, Westview 2. Those updates from her caregivers are much appreciated because Rita herself is incapable of communicating with us. Over the past ten years we have gradually lost our vivacious, sociable Rita, to Alzheimers.

Some family members have had window visits with Rita over the past couple of months. Her ground floor room makes this very easy.

We called Fairhaven and asked if a staff member could make sure her chair was facing the window, so we could see each other. Instead, they told us that she would be sitting outside, in the fenced off garden behind the building. When we arrived, there she was, sitting in a chair, under an umbrella, well behind the fence. When she saw us, she became excited; smiling, waving and calling “you hoo.” Although she has not called us by name for some time, she still recognizes us. She still knows her people. She especially enjoys seeing children, so it was a treat for her to see Avery and Eliza.

Norah and family stayed for a short visit, then set off for Toronto. Pat’s brother Jay and wife Rosie joined us and for a half hour or so we serenaded Rita and the other residents gathered under the main sun shelter. As Pat played the ukelele and we accompanied him in song, Rita smiled, tapped her feet and sometimes waved her hands around. She thoroughly enjoyed herself. No, the tap dancing queen of earlier years is gone but there is still a love of music and people inside her. Standing in the hot sun, sharing music with her felt so good.

Jay and Pat serenade Rita

It’s hard to put into words how I felt that afternoon, as we drove back to Ottawa. I had prepared myself that it would be a long, tiring day. What I had not anticipated was the tremendous sense of contentment that I felt, as we journeyed home. For that time, I was perfectly happy, all because of sharing precious family time together after a long absence. That long day was a gift, our best day in a long time.

In the week after that visit we had a heat wave. Time at last to take the flannelette sheets off the guest beds that have not been slept in for so long. I put on the lighter, summer sheets, in anticipation of a visit that cannot come too soon.

Infill Housing # 22

As you will see, this was actually written a long time ago. Since that time the construction projects have all progressed, accompanied by an ever-changing variety of noises, all annoying in their own way.

Noise!

I can't believe it's June the 11th  already. In spite of these strange, at home-times, the weeks are going fast for us. Here on Kenora, we are surrounded by six active construction sites. It's the noise that we mind the most. It wakes us up every day at 7 am sharp. (Some days earlier!) My first question of the day is usually, "Which site is that noise coming from? Who is first off the mark today? " Is it the huge project at Elmdale School or some of the residential re-builds? It could be the rumble of heavy machinery, the buzz of a saw, hammering, the rat-a-tat-tat of an air hammer, the hiss of a truck's air brakes,  workers yelling to each other, the hum of a generator or the high-pitched beep beep of a truck backing up. The variety of sounds is endless. So, once you are awakened, you lie there and they all gradually start and there you are, right in the middle of a symphony of construction noise. It goes on all day long.

Cement being poured in the footings at 77 Kenora

More cement being poured at 65 Kenora

While it's hard to say which noise is the worst, this particular monster is at the top of my list. The steel pole here, bangs the cement relentlessly, breaking it up into pieces. This photo was taken the day after the house demolition, as they worked to take out the basement and foundation walls.

77 Kenora

Even louder that the pounding on the concrete were the enormous thuds, as the concrete chunks were deposited into dump trucks.

You might think that a holiday like Canada Day might guarantee you some peace and quiet but no. A huge load of gravel was dumped in front of 77 that day and a bobcat was busy all day long, bringing the gravel to the back of the site. Nothing says Happy Canada Day like the beep beep of that machine, all day long. We called the city but were informed that construction sites are allowed to work on statuary holidays starting at 7 am, which they did!

A Gift Year at School ?

Ah, summer holidays…Although we are now officially into summer, parents are extremely concerned about their children's upcoming school year.  In spite of these unusual times, teachers had to come up with end-of-year report cards. Was the option of repeating a grade suggested for any of Ontario’s students? Probably not.

In May, Monika Ferenczy has a piece in the Ottawa Citizen, questioning Ontario's policy of relentlessly pushing students along, year after year. To read Should some students repeat this school year,  click here. 

I wholeheartedly agree with Ms. Ferenczy, who questions Ontario’s education policy of social promotion  - that is,  “ placing children in grades according to their birth year”. I have long thought that parents should have a greater say about their child’s grade level.

 As Ferency stated, various provinces have differing cut-off dates for grade placement. If you live in Quebec and your 6th birthday is in October, you will be placed in Kindergarten. If you live in Ontario and your 6th birthday is even later, on December 31st, you are in grade 1. 

I am not advocating that we “fail” students. What I suggest is that some students would benefit from an extra year in the primary division (Kindergarten to Grade Three). As Malcolm Gladwell  pointed out in The Outliers, kids born in the latter part of the year. “through no fault of their own - have been dealt a big disadvantage by the educational system.”

 As a parent and grandparent, I am grateful that two of my family members were given the opportunity for an extra year in the primary division.  I do not look upon this as a failure. Rather, it is the gift of time. These children were given an extra year, a gift year. 

As a special education teacher, (now retired) I often had students with late fall birthdays, who were struggling to keep up with their peers. When they turn 7, at the end of December, they are in a class with other students who will turn 8 in January. It’s hard to keep up with classmates who are almost an entire year older than you. 

 When you choose to have your child repeat a year, you take the student from being the youngest in the class to being the oldest. You give them the tremendous advantages of time, maturity and increased confidence.

 One in ten students has a learning disability. They learn differently, they need more individual instruction and they require extra time to master skills. A learning disability, coupled with a late fall birthday, presents a tremendous challenge. Giving LD students an extra year in the primary division will not take away their learning disability, but it will take some pressure off and give them more confidence as they work alongside peers closer to their age. 

 I'm reminded of a tiny, timid grade 7 student of mine, who was struggling with all aspects of the curriculum. His parents had begged his elementary school to allow him to repeat grade one but were refused. What a shame he was not allowed the gift of that extra year.

 ESL (English as a Second Language) students are another group who could benefit from an extra year. Canadian schools are so driven by this age appropriate placement policy, when a little common sense suggests that ESL students could really use an extra year to learn English.

  This fall, if some parents feel that their primary grade children could use an extra year, their recommendations should be given serious consideration. A caring, involved parent knows their child better than any teacher or principal ever will, especially this year. If ever there was a time to listen to parents, this is it.  

Corona Times

Why have I not written here in the past two months? I have no exciting excuses, just the mundane.  In spite of these unusual circumstances we have been busy, with family commitments, whether that is helping to care for my mother, having ongoing zoom meetings with our out-of- town grandchildren and now, as our bubble has expanded, spending more time with our in-town granddaughter, Lauren. How lucky we are, to have the wonderful distraction of grandchildren.

Like everyone else, I am weary of this pandemic. It casts a cloud over everything and creates stress and complications. And yet we are getting used to it. We have now been un-invited to the four weddings we had planned on attending this summer and fall. In all cases the happy couples are going ahead with more intimate celebrations and we wish them well....what a memorable way to start off a marriage!

And of course there is the construction. We are literally living in the midst of a construction zone, with six active sites around us. That of course, casts another layer of gloom. Thank goodness we finally got AC last year. On a hot week like this one, we can block out not only the heat, but the dust and some of the noise.

Currently I'm reading Remembering the Bones by Frances Itani. In it she wrote that..."even after horrible events....we are sometimes blessed with a moment of unexpected joy. We learn to grasp, to hold tightly to these moments for the short time they exist."

She's right. In spite of everything, we too have experienced moments of joy and we are very grateful for them. Here's one of them...a four generation visit with my mother, Aaron and Lauren.

And now a challenge to myself  - to post something here, every day for the next week!

Infill Housing #21

Of course # 77 Kenora has departed from its life on Kenora St. The bricks, wood, stairs, plaster, stone, windows...all of it was carted away to landfill, after it was demolished on May 4th. As I stood there, taking photos of it's destruction, I asked myself why. Why was I torturing myself by watching this dreaded act? A very old-fashioned phrase popped into my head. I simply felt I was bearing witness to the loss of yet another of Ottawa's heritage homes.

So here, for the record, is how you demolish a house.

7:38 AM

This pumper truck was a welcome addition to the usual house destruction process. It prevented the clouds of dust  that usually result. 

When I saw the staircase I thought of the kids who grew up here and all the times they must have run up and down those stairs.

Note the way the front door arch is echoed in the archway between the living room and dining room.

9:44 AM

By 11:35 it was pretty well gone. 

And so, at the end of the day, with it's mission accomplished, the monster bowed it's head.