New Year's Eve and time to get reflective. I like the above picture because Dave took it of the house last night and he was so pleased with the results -- "I made it look like a '70s picture! Did you notice the frame?" -- and it probably goes without saying that that was the first time he ever played around with filters on his phone. Over this holiday season, he has been great: buying presents for the girls on his own initiative, doing lots of cleaning and shopping while I was at work, and while I really think he would say he contributes this much every year if I was to point it out, I keep the peace by not pointing it out and just feel grateful that this isn't one of the years when I've had to do everything alone (it's a real bonus that he had the week before Christmas off; some years he even worked Christmas Eve as I struggled to clean and cook for our annual party all by myself; it's also a real bonus that the girls are old enough now to help in a big way). As for the year as a whole, we had plenty of meaningful family time and one amazing trip, but shadowing over everything is the steep decline in my mother-in-law's, Granny's, health. I hesitate to imagine what the new year will bring.
To begin my year in review, my year in books and the Goodreads infograph that summarises it all so nicely:
And so here are my personal top reads:
Top Five Books Released in 2016
I love the story behind the writing of this book (that a group of Native artists decided to get together and commemorate a horrific event in their history "without asking Canada's permission"), and I found it so touching and meaningful that I was pushing it on customers all through Christmas. And then to have this controversy erupt as to whether or not Joseph Boyden -- probably my favourite Native author -- even is Native? I'll need to do some thinking on that (and to be fair, wait for a consensus response from the various Native communities themselves).
The lyricism and surrealism of this story is absolutely my cup of tea -- so glad it won the International Man Booker and thereby came to my attention. A coworker of mine read this based on my enthusiasm, and she said she liked it but thought that the author should have done a better job of explaining the Vietnamese setting for Western readers...but Han wasn't writing for Western readers...why would an American writer explain Starbucks, or a Canadian describe a snowmobile? Loved this exactly as is.
I wouldn't consider myself a particular fan of McEwan's, but I found this book to be clever and funny; a real delight.
And Another Fifteen Favourites Released in Earlier Years
I would have given this book at least the GG for fiction this year: important and so well written.
Loved this: Pillow is the book that made me consider if, in a literary world with only so many storylines, perhaps surrealist crime fiction is my favourite subgenre.
I was so glad this won the Bailey's Prize - more gritty/witty crime fiction, this time with an Irish sensibility. I was so impressed by the way that McInerney used the humour to reveal deeper truths.
This was my favourite from the Man Booker Longlist; mothers and daughters and questions of identity, oh my.
I just love Annie Dillard, and even if I had read many of these essays before, I was delighted to have revisited her.
I'm going to cheat and group all of the Neapolitan Novels here: this first volume wasn't actually my favourite of the quartet (although I did literally jump to my feet and shout, "What??" when I reached the end of this one), but taken as a whole, this was simply a brilliant series. As Elena Ferrante has successfully concealed her true identity throughout her career, I want to note that I am uninterested in the recent "bombshell" revelation that is supposed to force me to reconsider her work. Don't care. Love what's on the page.
Beautifully written book that reminds us that there are more suffering areas of the world than those that make the nightly news.
A moving and interesting love story set in an underexamined locality during WWII, I was surprised this book didn't make an appearance at awards season.
Although I did quite enjoy A Disappearance in Damascus (and appreciate its topicality), this would have been my personal choice for the Hilary Weston Writers' Trust Prize for Nonfiction.
Beautifully written and so important, this is one of my all time favourite reads.
I cried through this whole read; also beautifully written and incredibly important.
I could probably include this under "surrealist crime fiction" -- it totally blew me away even though I saw the movie when it first came out -- and I just wish that I had enjoyed even one later work by Palahniuk.
And even more surrealist crime? Simply loved this.
This is considered a classic for a reason: in a year that saw the reemergence of the kind of racial intolerance that I thought we had moved beyond as a society, Ellison is more important than ever.
These last four are also grouped together because, when considered as a whole, they seem to have something important to say about reality and humanity and the way our brains work.
A look back at 2016:
This was a year that started off weird. Just before Christmas (2015), Mallory had hit her head on a staircase at school, and although it only bled a bit, it eventually turned out that she had suffered a concussion, as well. After resting over the winter break (and thankfully we hadn't planned a warm weather trip over that break as we had done so many times before [which is also due to Mallory because she acted like we were imposing on her time by whisking her away to the Caribbean the year before, sigh]), she went back to school in January...and was immediately sent home for "acting spacey". She went to our family doctor, who sent her to the hospital, who confirmed that a concussion was "likely". Mal was told to take a couple more weeks off school and then see a Physiotherapist who specialises in concussions. Meeting with this Physio wasn't entirely confidence-inspiring for me: all of Mallory's symptoms were self-reported -- checked off on a provided list and graded for severity by her own estimate -- and the doctor simply said, "Yep, you've got a concussion. You need to stay at home for an unspecified amount of time until you know you're better." I was a bit freaked out by this -- Mal had just put in her university applications and I couldn't imagine how her grades would be affected by not completing her final projects or writing the finals for her first semester. Would she need to repeat these classes and have her future pushed back by another year? In the end, I needn't have worried so much about that: the staff at the high school acted like they had all just aced a seminar on concussions and they were totally understanding, and ultimately, when Mal kept saying she wasn't better and couldn't return to school yet, they decided to excuse her from all final projects and exams and give her her midterm marks as her final marks. Sweet deal. Even as the second semester started and Mal said she still couldn't go to school, and the Physio kept saying that Mal would know best when she was better, I felt like I was more worried about her future than she was...but it all worked out. Mallory was accepted by all the schools she had applied to, and her future was definitely still on track (with a much healed brain to work with).
Also in January, Dave and I attended the annual GIFT Gala, this year with an intimate performance by One Republic. Some people were upset that the band was a last minute replacement for Keith Urban (who had cancelled with a claim of "family issues", but we all knew the truth when he was photographed with wife Nicole Kidman on the same evening at the SAG Awards), but in the end, we probably knew more One Republic songs than we would have known songs by Keith Urban. Either way, this wasn't a year where the act was the draw.
In February, my parents celebrated their 50th anniversary and we all went down to Nova Scotia to be with them, reported at length here.
And for some reason that month, I took this picture of my cutie-patooties (who were both going out but not together):
And Dave and I were at a work offsite at Ball's Falls, the story of which was saved for Halloween, here.
I was brought back to work at Chapters -- I really wasn't laid off for that long in the end -- and I was pleased to be able to pay out of my own money for me and Kennedy to go out west for Delight's birthday and a trip to the mountains in April:
Mallory's 18th birthday was in May, and because that's the drinking age in Quebec, we went on a family trip to Montreal to celebrate:
Also in May, I took Ella to see Mama Mia as a birthday present, and she got to bring her friend Madeline and I brought Mallory along. Madeline was such a weasel: she knew that we were going to go out for dinner first, and on the way home from the theatre, she started shuffling money around in her backpack, saying that her Mom had given her some money just in case she was expected to buy her own meal. Since Madeline herself knew I wouldn't expect that, she had spent the money at a school book fair and she had the nerve to explain to me that she was hiding the change so her mother would think it had all gone to dinner. So I get to buy you a meal and look like a cheapskate for it? Weasel. Note: her Mom has come into Chapters alone a couple of times since then, and while I would dearly love to clear my own name, tattling on a kid isn't my thing.
Near the end of the month, Dave and Ken pulled off another amazing Victoria Day fireworks show for the street:
And Mal had her Prom:
And later still, her Grad:
Dave and I celebrated our 25th anniversary in June, and while I did write about it here, the real celebration didn't happen until we took our Peru trip in September. Also in June, Dave and I went to Peterborough to attend his cousin's wedding reception, and this may have been the last time his Mom looked something like herself:
And briefly: Bev/Granny has been progressing steadily with the Alzheimers that we all (and especially she) have always known would be her fate. Little things forgotten and a short temper with Jim/Grandpa when he tries to help her out. Over this year, she's had some relatively minor health problems (her teeth, which she has never taken good care of, started to fall out of her mouth, and many thousands of dollars later, she was eventually fitted for some dentures) and some major problems: In July, she awoke one night with pain in her legs and when Jim went to look in on her, he saw that Bev's legs were all swollen up. He called an ambulance, and after she was admitted for tests, it was obvious from the nurses' manner that these swollen legs were more concerning than we knew. Turns out it was bowel cancer. And something about the stress of being in the hospital made Bev's dementia worse. Cancer had been definitely diagnosed, but as she was being taken for a scope to positively locate the tumours, she said a breezy, "Well, here's hoping they won't find anything". And both before and after her surgery, she asked Rudy confidentially, "Could you tell me why I'm in the hospital again?" She had no idea -- which is in a way a blessing; it's got to be better than actually worrying about your cancer. Even after she was released, her mind didn't bounce back. When Kennedy and I went to visit her at home, I asked if her tummy was giving her any trouble and total confusion passed over her face before she answered, "My tummy? It's fine. Fine." She had no memory of being cut open a few days beforehand. She was given a cancer-free report (which is a further blessing -- no way she could handle chemo or radiation in this condition) and it was decided that with so much going on, she shouldn't proceed with the dentures (which would also involve pulling her last few teeth) just yet. When Thanksgiving came and we were all together for dinner, Bev swallowed a too large piece of turkey and nearly choked on it; we all watched helplessly as Bev tried to move it back up to her mouth: Jim says this has been happening a lot, with just him to deal with it. Even so, they seemed no closer to wanting to sell their house, and as the rest of us sit helplessly far away, we could only offer whatever support they might eventually need. Back to the year...
Kennedy spent three weeks in Stratford, studying with the experts. And while she got to see just about every production at the Stratford Festival, we only went for a day to see Macbeth.
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| Dave recreating our favourite pic of his Dad |
We rented a cottage again at Sauble Beach, and although Granny and Grandpa came up to stay with us as ever, Bev didn't have the strength or energy (or interest?) to even walk down to the beach this year. As it's her favourite place on earth, that's just incredibly sad.
(Don't ask me why these sad-looking photos were my favourite pics from a fun family trip). We got home just in time for Mallory to start university:
And we had fun moving her into residence:
And I was pleased she came back home to go apple picking (and even though I tend to post pictures every year of us apple picking, I think of it as more habit than tradition; I may need to recognise that it means something more to the girls):
Of course, September is when Dave and I went on our big trip to Peru (reported on exhaustively here):
And while we were gone, Kennedy got the call that she was chosen to adopt a rescue dog (we have no idea of her background, and even a few months later, she's still basically terrified of everyone but Kennedy) and she named her Peaches:
We did Oktoberfest in Cambridge this year (kind of lame, but Mal won the tickets for free, gave them to us because she's underage, and then drove us home, too):
And for the second year in a row, Kennedy won an award for having the highest cumulative average in her program (and I didn't get a good picture, but I'm including it for posterity anyway):
Halloween, and only Peaches and I dressed up (Okay, Mal did too, but that was away at school):
And just as we began the year at a Gala, we ended at another, this time with a performance by Barenaked Ladies and Colin James, and bonus, we could bring Kennedy, too:
Why are there so many pictures of drinking, lol? And then it was Christmas, and we're back to talking about Granny. Apparently, as they were driving to our house on Christmas Eve, as they have done every year for at least fifteen years, Bev turned to Jim and said, "We're going to Cambridge? Who do we know there?" When they got here, no matter how many times Jim patiently explained that they took the 401 (the busiest, to us the most famous, highway in Canada), Bev kept saying that she thinks they got lost along the way because Jim took some unfamiliar roads. We had our annual party:
(I always assume someone else will take pictures of the people if I take pics of the food. Nope. Thanks for the cookies, girls!) As the people arrived and everything got noisy, I couldn't help but notice that Bev seemed lost in the middle of it, unable to follow any conversation and only her sister for company. Even Lolo's mother, Barb, said to me, "It's just so sad to see Bev like this", but even though she was a nurse and has had dozens of conversations with Bev over the years, I didn't see Barb make any effort to engage with her. At the end of the night, I was sitting with Pat and Jim, and he started talking about how hard it's been to take care of Bev by himself (he's going to be 80 soon, but at least there is finally talk about them moving closer to us), and when I pointed out how hard it must all be on him, he said, "Well, I just take it one day at a time. When I get down to taking it one minute at a time, I'll start hollering." Of course, Christmas Eve isn't over until Daddy reads The Night Before Christmas:
The next morning was Christmas -- delightful routines with gifts, brunch with Dan and Rudy, and dinner over at the Joneses -- and we all collapsed into our beds deliriously exhausted. All except Bev, who apparently couldn't get to sleep. At one point, Jim opened his eyes and saw Bev coming back into the guestroom, completely naked. He spluttered out, "What are you doing?" And with her default anger when she doesn't understand what's going on, Bev snarked back, "What's it to you?" She then pulled on her sweatshirt from the day before, and after rooting around in their bag, she put Jim's dirty undershirt on over top it. It was only on Jim's insistence that she also pulled on some Depends before getting into bed, and when he went to go fetch her clothes from the bathroom, he discovered that she hadn't quite made it in time and her nightgown was urine-drenched (he has been dealing with pee-soaked beds in the middle of the night for a few months now and also finding Bev wrapped up in unusual clothes. She has apparently hidden the plastic pad that's meant to protect her mattress and which she says is uncomfortable). So after the celebrations, we're back to worrying.
Back in November, Dave went along as his Mom went to a memory doctor, and for the first time, this doctor seemed really concerned. When asked to name as many different animals as she could, Bev could only come up with dog and cat (despite being prompted to think of farms and oceans and jungles, Bev placidly insisted that she had only ever heard of dogs and cats). When the doctor said, "I understand you were sick in the summer. Can you tell me what that was about?", Bev thought hard but couldn't remember. When the doctor said that it was cancer, Bev just smiled and said, "Oh yes. That's right. Cancer." And that's what I find to be so upsetting: Bev is forgetting things (like cancer!) and not acting worried about the forgetting. Her senile grandfather lived with her family when she was a little girl, she brought her own senile mother into her home when Dave was little, she has always known that this awful disease would likely be her fate, and now that it's here, she's not even aware that she has it: the memory is fading without self-awareness. This doctor wants to see Bev get her dentures in (if only to prevent more choking) and she has set them up with more home care (but Bev refuses to do the physio exercises she's been given and she won't let a PSW help her to shower). I don't know what the future will bring: I hope they do move closer so we won't feel so helpless; I would love to see Bev's memory somehow improve; but failing that, I'm just hoping to stretch out what we have now before the final decline. Despite moments of confusion -- apparently Bev doesn't even recognise their own house of thirty years and keeps asking Jim, as they're sitting in their familiar family room, when they'll be going back home -- we still had our Granny here for Christmas; talking with the girls and remarking on how lovely it is to get everyone together. I'm conscious of appreciating the now while trying to avoid the transportation of my mind into the unknowable future.
And that's the kind of year it was: maybe more highs and lows than usual, but still a charmed life with much to be grateful for.
