PRIDE.....or not

I spent yesterday afternoon on the rooftop of a Toronto apartment building with friends (and strangers) enjoying the celebration that is The Pride Parade. Turns out I actually know people who have an apartment on Yonge Street. Who knew? Michael and I have never been to Pride together since one of us is usually working somewhere, so this was a great opportunity to hang with fun people and get a great view from a 3rd story roof.

In spite of the fact that the parade itself is just a big party, many of us on the rooftop felt that it started off with a powerful and profound message. One of the very first groups to appear carried a banner which read, “We march for those who can’t.” All the marchers in this group had black gags around their mouths and some carried signs detailing the number of known brutalities committed (often by the government) against people who’s lifestyle was deemed unacceptable in many countries of the world. These brutalities ranged anywhere from loss of civil freedoms to public floggings or executions.

As we stood on that sunny rooftop, sharing jokes, dancing, drinking, eating and shouting our joy, someone, somewhere in the world was suffering simply because of who they are.
Isn’t it staggering that we’re still not done with that idea? The idea that if you’re not like me there’s something wrong with you.

And it's not just "those" people in "those" countries that are responsible for that kind of one-dimensional, small-minded thinking. I'll just be that there's someone very close to you right now who is thinking in exactly the same way.

What are YOU gonna do about it?

WHAT AM I UP TO?

I got an email this morning asking what I was up to, AND I was looking for a way to post some photos of our yard since my mother and I have been emailing about gardening. So....here are some happy summer pictures of just what I've been up to.

Here's Michael on the front porch at sunset in the new chairs he got for his birthday.



Back deck at sunset. Michael's basil & tomatoes on the right, wild flowers and greenery on the left.


Back deck in the morning. My favorite place to do coaching calls.


Fleurs.

I live in an area that is desperate to have visitors.....well, ok, tourists. All the marketing is about getting the tourists. Now, I don't always have particularly nice things to say about tourists when they come here, mostly because they tend to say and do really stupid things. On this occasion, however, they don't even need to come here for me to say mean things about them.

One of the things that gets marketed about this place is The War of 1812. I'd like to address all the would-be travelers who are staying home because the media warned them about possible terrorism and terrorist attacks. I think the next marketing campaign for my area should read...."Dear America....Nothing has blown up here since 1812...and at that point in history, it was YOUR bombs !!!"

Yes, I'd like to offer my personal guarantee that your chances of being injured in a terrorist attack in North America are still only slightly higher than your chances of being elected leader of your country.

In the words of Baz Luhrman..."A life lived in fear is a life half lived."

FATHER'S DAY

What does Dad want for Father’s Day? The traditional cheesy tie? Perhaps a fine bottle of scotch? Golf gear? The newspapers are full of suggestions for all kinds of things that you can buy for Dad. Now, my Dad, like many is difficult to buy for. What he wants, he buys for himself, what he doesn’t want or need, he doesn’t have. (A simple idea, really, that I wish more people would take to heart.)

So, instead of a ‘thing’, I’d just like to tell a story. I’d like to tell a story to let the whole world know what kind of a Dad I have.

I got married last September and, since we wrote our own vows, we decided that it was important to thank our parents for helping us to become the people that we’ve become. After the ‘thank-you’ portion of the vows, we presented each of our parents with a single rose as a symbol of out gratitude. There were a few tears as hugs were exchanged and as I embraced my father, he said to me, “You’re my hero.”

Depending on the dad, you might expect a few different things like a bit of wisdom or advice, maybe a gruff, monosyllabic utterance, or perhaps nothing at all. Out of all the things you might expect, “You’re my hero” is not one of them. Amazing words to hear. Words that make a pretty big impact. Words that demand, however, that I ask a couple of questions.

How can I be your hero when you taught me to build a fire, to drink a scotch, to complete a task? How can I be your hero when you laugh at all my jokes, when I get your unquestioning, unwavering support without ever asking for it? How can I be your hero when you’re my biggest fan?

Maybe we’ll just have to settle for being members of our own mutual admiration society.

I love you, Dad.

HAIR

So, we went to see "HAIR" at CanStage last night and were pretty disappointed. Well, actually Michael was really angry. First big problem, sound. It was terrible. Couldn't understand most of the lyrics half of the time and since the majority of the show is sung that means most of what you need to hear is missing. Second, the direction was so over-done that the pure simple message of the show had a hard time finding it's way through all the gak that got piled on top of it. Basically, over produced, over-directed and, because of the direction, over-acted. Lots of really talented people working waaaaay harder than they have to.

In spite of all this, the show, for me at least, still had some truly compelling moment which I think is a testament to the strength of the piece itself. Some of what it's original intent still survives IN SPITE of the director.

Can we just TELL THE STORY please??!?!?!? Shit! When will directors back off?

THERE'S NO CULTURE IN POP-CULTURE

I'm sure Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are very happy. HOWEVER, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that the 'media' (and I use the term loosely and sarcastically) stop plastering every magazine cover on the planet with their pictures. And the magazines that do not feature either Brad or Angie, or both, are the ones that feature Jennifer Anniston because everyone wants to know how SHE feels about things !!!

Jezuz people, get a life of your own.

There must be something, some little thing in your life that is more interesting than rich people talking about themselves. Do you even know how many behind the scenes agents, publicists and press agents are working day and night to position people on those magazine covers? Do you think the magazines just phone up and say, "Hey, we'd like you on the cover." HELL NO. They have to be badgered into it by an army of staff paid for by the feature-ees themselves.

What is this modern disease of having to talk an event to death? We talk and talk and talk and talk and talk about a thing, and then we talk about the opinions that came out of the talking and start all over again. And NOTHING EVER COMES OF IT.....it's just talk.

This is what they call Pop-culture. Which is exactly the same thing as calling that orange paste in a jar "cheese".