A Bond in Our Marriage
Saturday, July 20, 2024
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHyCvxhIkUfn8pHxQETM9bbkIkTvWNjZ8eC8-HHe_1huI0v4RiGEIpQxNxiobbc4btiF0JNpUXjHrQAkOjO14BUmGKS4Ro4_vU2lHzFaZ499uqgi4xPsI32Q6L2ZiXAQgptxTeB13dByH0qXUVO9xXoKu3VoAEUscrokktEOgUA97VMnsQ92c2/w309-h485/Rosemary%20and%20Alex%20in%20Arboledas,%20Rosa%20Louise%20Odier%20and%20Hosta%20Whirlwind%2020%20July%202024.jpg) | Rosa 'Louise Odier' & Hosta 'Whirlwind' 20 July 2024
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It seems that since I cannot lay to rest my memories of
Rosemary that I am then compelled to write about them.
I believe that one of the reasons our marriage went well had
all to do with Rosemary’s concept that husband and wife had to have a common
interest that went beyond jobs and children. In 1986 I was informed that we
were going to buy a large house in a corner garden in Kerrisdale. She said she
wanted a house with a garden. My interest in gardening was negligible.
When we moved, we were faced with a shady garden that had
many trees. I did some research and I kept reading about hostas.
Houses were being torn down in our neighbourhood to make way
for big houses with four-car garages. Rosemary was keen in salvaging(she liked
to use the word liberate) plants from the gardens when the houses were going to
be torn down. One day we went to a nearby house with our wheelbarrow and
spades. She pointed at a large dark green plant and said, “Alex, that’s a hosta”.
She knew that in those years hostas were entry level for
male engineers and doctors. Perhaps she thought for male photographers? She was
right. She turned me into an avid gardener and years later I even had a monthly
garden column for Western Living.
It was our garden that gave us that extra interest in
life. Around 1991 she told me that we were going to a meeting of the
Vancouver Rose Society. Until the day she died while she understood my liking
of hostas and tolerated them, she became happy when I, too went crazy over
roses.
Today, Saturday,
July 20 I keep thinking of two words as I drive around Vancouver (today
I had ice-cream and lunch with Hilary, my youngest daughter in a place I
frequented with Rosemary when we went to buy plants at a nursery called
Mandeville). Those words are with/without. I think I did this with Rosemary. I
am now doing this with Hilary but without Rosemary.
I wanted to somehow, in one scan, to bring the idea of our
love for roses (and her tolerance for my hostas). I found this photograph in my
files, a self-portrait of us in Arboledas, Mexico taken around 1973. I must
note that Rosemary seems to have some severely plucked eyebrows and I have long
hair.
When I took that photograph I had no idea of thinking ahead
(who does?) that someday I would be writing this without Rosemary.
Una Historia de Amor Continuada y Calurosa
Friday, July 19, 2024
Una Historia de Amor
Cuando llevé a mi Rosemary a Veracruz para la navidad de1967para que
conociera a mi mamá, hacía un calor típico húmedo tipico del puert. Rosemary no
estaba acostumbrada y se tomabaa varios baños de regadera al día.
Porque aún no estábamos casados, mi mamá nos
puso en cuartos separados. Pero eso no impidió nuestras aventuras nocturnas.
Fue entonces cuando comenzamos una tradición que disfrutamos hasta el último
verano del 2020.
Consistía en dormir sobre las sábanas sin ropa. Cualquiera que llegue hasta aquí se imaginará que dormíamos
poco.
Hoy cuando apagué las luces, en las sábana sin
cobija, con mis gatos a un lado, y yo sin ropa, me volví triste. Pensé en esos
calores húmedos de Veracruz donde
seguramente engendramos a nuestra primera hija Alejandra Isabel.
Tengo un amigo que cuando le digo en invierno, o
en cualquiera otra estación del año, que no quiero hacer nada me explica que la razón
es esa estación del año.
Ahora hago poco. Pero sé, que con mi Rosemary
conmigo, haría mucho y especialmente en estas pocas noches calurosas de Vancouver.
Una Historia de Amor
Thursday, July 18, 2024
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEvUQN7bET46EtEJBeNGavQCD1EU-EHk5l0t8YeLWvmOdrCfG8pO0STrZcDlBzZcdLDxc1u7iFQWu0oWayuBTXB_8AxA2FJ3_pdKtFHcvTrdjDeQdAo3gv4_acel2kisXznGojfCiGiZrS0dm9-7qTGk6Zz-DAUnBUgh8rqe-S-PGguIQIgyL/w439-h298/Mocambo%20-%20Rosemary%20and%20Alex.jpg) | Mocambo,Veracruz - 23 de diciembre, 1967
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Una
Historia de Amor
El 15 de
diciembre de 1967 vi a una mujer en CDMX salir de la escuela en donde yo
enseñaba inglés a ejecutivos de compañías estadounidenses. La vi de espaldas.
Tenía pelo lacio, largo y rubio. Lucía una minifalda y tenía unas piernas de
locura. A casi fines de diciembre la llevé a que conociera a mi mamá en
Veracruz. En Mocambo nos tomamos un autorretrato.
El 8 de
febrero del 68 nos casó un juez en una oficina en el zócalo de Coyoacán. Rosemary
tenía 23 años y yo 25. Ella había nacido en New Dublin, Ontario.
Estuvimos
casados 52 años. Rosemary falleció el 9 de diciembre del 2020.
Por más que
yo creía que la conocía a fondo, fueron muchos años después, que vi su nombre en
unos de sus libros. Pagó 150 pesos por
México: Pintura de Hoy –Luís Cardoza y Aragón – Fondo de Cultura Económica -1964. Lo había comprado antes que nos conociéramos. ¿Cómo iba yo a
saber de su interés en el arte, y en especial, el de México? Un año antes que muriese, fuimos a Nueva
York. Entramos al Museo Metropolitan a las 10 de la mañana y salimos a las
5:30.
Para
esas alturas creo que la conocía bastante bien.
A Portrait Photographer's Unique Melancholy
Tuesday, July 16, 2024
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpdb3172iJA1F-7UwUJOgkQHe_m7CYqPCJuUxGrigMj4ZV9qbULLLqapykMtxDAAa_G8tcJAGb0Iy5tJ0VS3FYxmkAvI6MvKjUAun88CTIIgdNYwFZkgbGEEmy7IcHq8xOOhRZm9Ovjjhf3Q7MKQvxvGPOontI9kYiPzlpR-vWPmnJ64knvqz/w345-h433/Ale%20screened%20in%20Burnaby.jpg) | Alexandra Elizabeth - Circa 1979
| ![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgep0Vk5aZuWVonyTBU1yvWADX_7E2Zc09UPZem4771E_H8YC40hwNbdDaSJZKSa2F7F-Fb2q2ckRG-shMR-ZRMVxf29OdESJPBPwFJY5z5eLFF7U8LFSed2JPeAWLTsRQvnvQVRRtcXoECoVx_zGGVK1t6HUI1-4-Qoh8aF-H0lIj_5LkM-iV_/w343-h436/Hilary%20Screened%20scan%2016%20July%202024.jpg) | Hilary Anne - Circa 1979
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I gave a successful PowerPoint presentation tonight at the Vancouver
Rose Society monthly meeting. The subject was about scanning and taking
photographs of roses. When I finished one of the members came up to me and
said, “You really miss your wife.” That began my melancholy as I drove home.
When I got home, considering by over-a-week of preparation,
I felt a sad.
I fed Niño and Niña and got into bed. Suddenly I felt
melancholic, isolated and depressed. I looked around the room. I realized
what was happening.
My bedroom has family portraits. All are unsmiling,
staring-at-the-camera. I got up and went down the stairs. On the stairways,
except for a couple, all the photographs are family portraits, all unsmiling and
staring at the camera.
My realization is that only portrait photographers with a
family might suffer from what hit me tonight.
As soon as photography was invented, by the end of the 1820s,
photographers made the attempt of taking pictures of people (mostly children)
when they were about to die. They thought they might get an image of the soul
leaving the body. They, of course, failed.
In the bulk of my portraits, both my commercial and my
family ones, I always place my camera at my subject’s eye level. Much has
been said how taking photographs of a person, close in proximity to the camera
and photographer, gives you a glimpse into a person’s soul or whatever makes
that person be that person and not you.
That is further increased in intensity if your subject is a
daughter, granddaughter or a wife (my case). You love them.
Looking at those portraits tonight made me think that I had
looked into Alexandra and Hilary’s innermost being with my camera. There is a
sadness in their non-smile and a sadness is added for me when I realize that I
captured a moment in time that will not return.
I wonder if anybody else thinks about this as I did tonight.
Wendy Under The Stars
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9M5DcOSj1jhMX-qYPqR7lUSNZ1gagnLMJ3ZpR6KnOvmhIxxtpK0haul-fYJ4tXjw_zRiqauoDWp_mbJRKAt3KbcXH7yHG4xOsWY-hUmMMoQbB7FAB_ON5tFfgwmx4kHftk9lSdvKHES9rHPrWrxTOCXfqdofVd_sICaXqop0XNLImQcJSw5IO/w262-h392/The%20Evens%2004.jpg) | Stephen Drake - 11 July 2024
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Because of family obligations and a busy schedule preparing
my PowerPoint presentation for
tonight’s Vancouver Rose Society meeting at Van Dusen’s Floral Hall I have had
time to digest the concert I attended this past Thursday at the Lido on East
Broadway.
Since The
Evens (a trio with the original founder of The Odds, Stephen Drake) were not going to be on
until later in the evening I wanted to avoid the backup band. I arrived at 9:30,
and to my delight, the backup band was The Furniture and the trio was a fast and
furious punk band. Appropriately the drummer Johnny Wildkat was wearing a
Ramones T-shirt.
When
guitarist Stephen Drake stepped up with his trio, Bradley Ferguson on bass, and
Ian Browne on drums, I was suddenly hit by the fact that I had first
photographed Drake in 1978 when he was in the band Gary Cramer and the Works
with his drummer brother Adam.
I know the
story that before the Drakes and parents came to Vancouver in the mid-70s they
had lived in Los Angeles and they visited a friend on a farm who happened to be
Neil Young. It might have been then that Stephen decided he wanted to be
guitarist.
I am no
music critic but I can state that Gary Cramer and the Works was a folk/rock
band during the very live punk scene in Vancouver. Is a good guitarist able to
play fast and furious and at the same time play with incredible skill? Yes if
it Stephen Drake. On the 26th of this month at the Rickshaw both
drakes will be playing with Art Bergmann. That confirms my suspicion that
Stephen Drake can do anything he wants to.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vCFjtyv3-0JW3T4adVlKVd7msdrWWhnhhwV1VWozmY91Uoo4BICYM_BBT60h7YrXkC2WC1BLuo6Sq5kf_rddBGEXYPSsg2pFRqU6BjIQ-vRVVa_D74TzFFIMnl3KtizijUoWx4vvJ0O-tJ30D15_Io22CqWykcoZ-Zt63eKtebJaG4JlpMuq/w407-h261/The%20Evens%2021.jpg) | Adam & Stephen Drake 11 July 2024
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When I saw
the song list (I squirrelled it away after the concert) I knew two astounding
facts that few in the audience might have known. The tune Eat My Brain was
originally a Gary Cramer and the Works tune. The lyrics were written by the now
Parliamentary Poet Laureate George Bowering. George Bowering
The second
song of note was listed as Wendy Under the Stars. The original title could not
get radio play when The Odds came out with it. Why? The original title (and in
the lyrics on Thursday night) was I was Fucking Wendy Under the Stars the Night
Elvis Presley Died.
I left the
concert not reeking of tobacco and since I had nothing to drink I was cold
sober. As I drove home I came to understand that this 81-year-old man has been
blessed in knowing Adam and Stephen Drake.
A couple of
years ago Stephen came to my house with a surprise. He brought me a CD he
recorded in Gary Cramer’s living room on Galiano before Cramer died. It is a
lovely CD (Stephen is an exceptional sound engineer) that has Neil Young
moments.
I know why. The Furniture
The Evens
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