My Rosemary & Our Mashed Potatoes
Sunday, October 27, 2024
| Rosa 'Bathsheba' 27 October 2024
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While it really is a private matter since this blog is
really a “Dear Diary”-kind of writing, It would be disingenuous of me to not admit
to missing all those things Rosemary and I did in bed. Yes we did watch some
TV, read the papers, pet our cats, discuss finances and plan trips. Yes. But I
also miss all those gentle escapades that as we got older became ever more
gentle.
I was thinking about all that last night in my bed with Niño
and Niña right next to me. This happens every night as I sense that empty spot
on my right on the bed. She was always there for 52 years.
Because of my Bunny Watson type of association the idea of
chopped onion came into my head.
I make fabulous mashed potatoes. I use cream, lots of
butter and I whip up the mixture with an electric beater. I like to add freshly
ground pepper and grated Parmeggiano-Reggiano cheese. There is an additional
ingredient that is most special. When I first met Rosemary she told me that her
mother would chop up raw onion and put it into the mashed potatoes towards the
end so that they would not cook too much. The final recipe for mashed potatoes
involved both our families.
I make fabulous mashed potatoes. Rosemary called them
comfort food. Last night the idea that sex with Rosemary was a frequent comfort
that always had a bit of edge led me to thinking up the scan you see here. Why
do I have Rosa ‘Bathsheba’ in it?
Our sometimes edgy sex did also have a gentleness. This
rose, about to open, somehow reminds me of Rosemary when we closed the lights
or in those mornings when we shared lazy, slow and gentle sex. This is
something we did until a couple of months before she died.
Yes, mashed potatoes.
Baroque for the Soul
Saturday, October 26, 2024
Idle worry over future times,
Idle worry over future times
does not trouble our gentle slumber;
ambitions not triumphed over us
From Handel Aria 8 “In den agehehmen Büschen” HWV 209
My good friend, graphic designer (important in this blog
at the end) Graham Walker and, I attended tonight a baroque concert at St. Augustine
Catholic Church here in Kitsilano not too far from my home on 7th
Avenue.
These concerts are organized by a young violinist with an
impressive curriculum (Julliard, no less!). She is Majka Demcak (in the next concert I will have to
ask her how to pronounce her name). Any baroque concert that includes Nan
Mackie on viola da gamba and Christina Hutten on harpsichord is a must to
witness in my books.
The surprise was the young soprano Chelsea Kutyn. She was
astounding and she had this infectious smile when she sang the Handel arias
that my daily depression was relieved while she sang. I have to now point out that she sat in front of me. At her
pew she had two hard candies and a thermos flask. That was not all that unusual.
But from my vantage point I could see her back, her lovely black dress and
strap and her lovely hair. I obsessively photographed this!
After the concert I went back to show the quartet a
photograph/illustration that Graham Walker and I did of the prolifically
fantastic violinist of the Pacific
Baroque Orchestra. That Majka Demcak is part of that group now is most
commendable. To find out about the next concerts on the series you can sign up to Majka Demcak's email. [email protected]
| Marc Destrubé as Vivaldi - Photo Illustration Graham Walker & Alex Waterhouse-Hayward
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My Dear Diary & Hammarskjöld's Markings
Friday, October 25, 2024
| Senecio Greyii Brachyglottis - Rosa 'Susan Williams-Ellis' 25 October 2024
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I told an Argentine lieutenant commander, “I absolutely
refuse to obey your order.” His answer, “In time of war I could have you shot
or I would send you to the Argentine Antarctic and the only women you would
meet would be penguins. But I will do you two favours. One, I will have you
arrested and you will spend a week in the navy brig next door. Two, I will
advise you that you go now to a bookstore and buy some books. You will have
time to read them.”
I went to Pigmalion on Calle Corrientes. It sold books in
every language except Spanish. My parents bought their books there in English
as well as Jorge Luís Borges.
When I arrived I found two books. One was Markings by Dag
Hammarskjöld. The other was The Phenomenon of Man by Pierre Teilhard de
Chardin. While there there, I spotted an older man with poor vision. Because I
was an ignorant conscript it was only months later that I figured that the man
was Jorge Luís Borges.
Markings were intimate notes that were found inside Hammarskjöld’s
desk after he died.
When I started by Blogger blog in 2006, ancillary to my
web page in 2006, I saw it as a “Dear Diary”.
Joan Didion in an interview with the New York Times said this: “I write
entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and
what it means. What I want and what I fear.”
This means that I write for myself even though I post
links to my blog in several social media sites. It is irrelevant what people
opine or if they limit themselves to emojis.
These last four years, after my wife died on 9 December
2020 many of my blogs have relevance to what I feel by my loss. I have no concern
when people come up to me and say, “Alex why do you keep writing that
depressing stuff?”
As I get older the idea of worrying about my legacy has
become unimportant except for my blog. While I am certainly no Hammarskjöld my
blog is my “Dear Diary” on an internet-cloud desk.
I worry about how to preserve it.
Thoughtful Little Boat - Laid Out on the Bed
Thursday, October 24, 2024
| Hotel Gèneve - 18 December 2012 |
| | Homero Aridjis - UBC Faculty Club - Spring 1993
|
Early
December of 2012 I told Rosemary, “I have to go to Mexico City because our
friend and Hilary’s godfather, Raúl Guerrero Montemayor is dying of prostate
cancer. Can I borrow one of your black bras?”
That
journey that took me to go to Mexico City with a Rosemary’s underwear in my
suitcase began in 1993 at the University of British Columbia’s Faculty Club.
Mexican poet and novelist, Homero Aridjis, was there for a talk courtesy of the Vancouver Writer’s
Festival. I photographed him and wrote about him for Celia Duthie’s The Reader.
From that point I realized I had to read as many of his books as I could. I can
state here that I have read all of his books.
But there
was a poem, Turista de 1934/Tourist in 1934,that I discovered about a Mexican
gent bedding an American gal on a bed at the Zona Rosa’s Gèneve Hotel that
inspired me to photograph Rosemary’s bra at that hotel.
On this
Thursday, 24 October, 2024, there was Writer’s Fest program on Granville Island in
which George McWhirter (Irish poet/novelist and first Vancouver Poet Laureate)
& Chilean poet and writer Carmen Rodríguez discussed the complexities of
translating and in particular translating Homero Arijdjis’s poems into English.
For fun I
printed the picture of Rosemary’s bra and circulated it with the audience. I then asked McWhiter to explain the circumstances. Since I had warned him
about this, he handed me a neatly printed little paper containing Mexican writer
Gabriel Zaid’s poem called Maidenform in
Spanish and with his translation into English!
And so
one photograph to illustrate two poems. The poem Tourist in 1934 is in this blog And here is Said's poem Maidenform Maidenform Barquilla pensativa, recostada en su lecho, amarrada a la orilla del sueño. Sueña que es desatada, que alza velas henchidas, que se desata el viento, que desata las vidas. Maindenform Thoughtful little boat, laid out on the bed, moored to the shore of sleep.
She dreams she's cast off, sails at full stretch, the wind up, that she unhitches lives.
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