Yoga for Beginners

 

In the spirit of getting out and having more interesting experiences this year, Kennedy, Rudy, and I decided to go to an event called "Beer Yoga" at the Flux Brewing Co. in Scotland (Ontario) on Sunday. I assumed that this would be an hour of yoga followed by a glass of beer (all I knew ahead of time was that a beer was included in the ticket price), but actually, we were instructed to get a beer when we arrived and to place it at the front of our mat (Rudy does not drink beer, rarely drinks any alcohol, and grabbed a glass of water instead). And throughout the yoga session, the instructor - who was sassy and jokey, while also competently encouraging proper form - would have us pick up the glasses of beer and hold them in various poses, sipping when instructed throughout. It was kind of challenging (these were glasses of beer on a concrete patio out back of the brewery), and we're no yogis, but it was a lot of fun; the weather was gorgeous, we stayed for amazing tuna poke bowls (and another beer) afterwards, and it was a great day out.

Writing about this reminded me of when Rudy and I did puppy yoga in Toronto last summer before the Cyndi Lauper concert (I can't believe I was too disengaged to write about any of that). Puppy yoga is all about the puppies - a gang of roughhousing miniature schnauzers that peed on everyone's yoga mats - and only loosely about the yoga, but it was kind of a hilarious time that I would recommend to anyone, at least once.

Tunesday : Sweet City Woman

 

Sweet City Woman

(Dodson, R) The Stampeders

Well, I'm on my way

To the city lights

To the pretty face

That shines her light on the city nights

And I gotta catch a noon train

I gotta be there on time

Oh, it feels so good to know she waits at the end of the line

Sweet, sweet city woman

I can see your face, I can hear your voice

I can almost touch you

Sweet, sweet city woman

And the banjo and me, we got a feel for singing, yeah, yeah

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon

So long, ma

So long, pa

So long, neighbors and friends

Like a country morning

All snuggled in dew

Ah, she's got a way to make a man feel shiny and new

And she sing in the evening

Old, familiar tunes

And she feeds me love and tenderness and macaroons

Sweet, sweet city woman

I can see your face, I can hear your voice

I can almost touch you

Sweet, sweet city woman

And the banjo and me, we got a feel for singing

Sweet, sweet city woman

Oh she's my sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet city woman

oh my sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Everybody

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet city woman

I just got back from another trip with my brother, Ken. He had planned to go out to Calgary to hang with our aunts and uncles there, with the added bonus of going down to Lethbridge, where we went to high school, in order to meet up with some of his old friends. I was seriously uninterested in this trip - I just saw the aunts and uncles when they came to Nova Scotia in February; saw half of them last month in PEI; knew I'd feel like a fifth wheel on the Lethbridge detour - but despite telling Ken I simply didn't want to go, when he asked me again at Laura's birthday in June ("So are you coming to Alberta? You're coming to Alberta. You'll come, won't you?"), like the spinster sister of a Victorian poet, I agreed, once more, to be my brother's travelling companion. And I had fun despite myself.

I don't have a whole story that I want to memorialise about our time in Calgary, except to note that I really enjoyed meeting my (deceased) cousin Trevor's fifteen-year-old daughter, Grace, for the first time. As I noted to Ken, Trevor was my favourite of the cousins we knew (not that we spent all that much time with any of them), and I enjoyed taking Grace to the Calgary Stampede with the aunties: That's a picture of me up there at the rodeo, and the only inspiration for this week's song by The Stampeders (about whom I should have written when we went to their concert last year; great show.)

About the Lethbridge trip: Ken was super nervous on the drive down, chewing the cuticles on his thumbs raw. I guess it is pretty risky to contact a couple of old friends after thirty years to say, "I'm dying and I'm going to be in town and wouldn't it be fun to catch up?" We arrived at our Vrbo (cute old house in the downtown core), went out shopping for snacks and drinks for the gathering, drove past our old house (the brown slab siding had been painted white, but otherwise exactly the same), and toured around the city that has doubled in size over the decades; totally the same and completely different.

Nearly forty years ago, Ken shared a house with two brothers - Eric and Jeff - and it was them that Ken had wanted to see. Eric came to the door, same as he ever was, but Jeff (who is recovering from a massive stroke) had to be helped along by his wife. Eventually, Eric's girlfriend arrived (Eric had divorced his first wife and his second, "the soulmate", died of cancer), and the evening was filled with storytelling, remember-whenning, and so many laughs. Jeff had some difficulty communicating - often using the wrong word, trying to write the correct one in the air, and his wife interpreting - but he was also telling his stories and laughing along. (Ken had hoped to see another of their old friends, Pat, but he had also apparently recently had a stroke and his wife was cagey about visitors.)

The most important thing - and when I put it this way to the aunts and uncles later, Ken agreed - was it was a full circle moment for Ken. When he left Alberta, Ken had no career plan, no education, no partner. He had been a bit of a lowlife through high school, and I don't know if even his friends would have expected much from him. But Ken got to reconnect with the people who knew him best back then, and between the two of us, we told them a story of a guy who runs a twelve million dollar department at one of Canada's biggest hospitals, who's about to celebrate his 30th anniversary with an incredible woman, and who has two kids who are on their own paths to happiness and success (not to mention a close enough relationship with his sister that she travels the country with him, even sometimes against her will). In return we got to learn of these friends' successes - noting that their happiness has not been untinged with loss - and ultimately, there was nothing weird or uncomfortable about the visit. Ken got exactly what he hoped for out of it and I ultimately didn't mind being back in a place to where I never expected to return. Yada yada, we went to Waterton the next day, saw a bear, had a barbecue with Eric and his girlfriend, back to Calgary for several more days, but that evening was the point and the full circle moment and maybe an ending, too. With terminal cancer, Ken finished something here. And I was happy to help him get there.

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, c'est bon, bon

Bon, c'est bon, bon, bon, bon, bon

Tunesday : Something in the Way She Moves

Something in the Way She Moves

Written and performed by James Taylor

There's something in the way she moves
Or looks my way, or calls my name
That seems to leave this troubled world behind
If I'm feeling down and blue
Or troubled by some foolish game
She always seems to make me change my mind

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now
She's around me now
Almost all the time
And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now
She's been with me now quite a long, long time
And I feel fine

Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning
And I find myself careening
In places where I should not let me go
She has the power to go where no one else can find me
Yes and silently remind me
The happiness and the good times that I know, but as I had got to know them

It isn't what she's got to say
Or how she thinks and where she's been
To me, the words are nice, the way they sound
I like to hear them best that way
It doesn't much matter what they mean
What she says them mostly just to calm me down

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now
She's around me now
Almost all the time
If I'm well you can tell she's been with me now
She's been with me now quite a long, long time
Yes and I feel fine

In this, the year of us getting out and seeing more concerts, striving to have more experiences in general, Dave and I decided to spend the weekend of our 34th anniversary in Toronto. On Friday night, we went to the Budweiser Stage to see the incomparable James Taylor. After a relatably gourmet dinner downtown at Richmond Station, we decided to walk to the venue - about an hour away, but we had lots of time and the weather was fine and it felt good to stretch our legs after the drive in to the city. From the moment the concert began, James Taylor was everything you would hope he would be: a humble and engaging storyteller, a man who obviously lives and breathes the music he plays, and a legacy performer who still has his chops. Our seats were off the side in the fourth row, but nearly immediately, we joined others at the front of the stage. Dave has a couple of pictures of me singing along on the jumbotron, countless closeups of Taylor losing himself in his guitar playing, and when the show was over, Dave joined others seeking an autograph - and that's Taylor up there signing Dave's concert T-shirt. James Taylor is one of those performers who has featured regularly in the soundtrack of our relationship - my Dad and I danced to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) at my wedding - and he sang every one of our favourite songs at the show; I can't rave enough about how wonderful the experience was.

As we were leaving the venue afterward - us and thousands of other aging fans - there was a young guy with a bicycle rickshaw, knowingly blasting James Taylor music. And when he asked Dave if we wanted a ride, he said, "For sure!" We proceeded to be driven through the city - in and out of traffic, through parks and past people waiting in line at bars - with that music blasting; us singing along, so many people smiling and waving at us from cars, and as Dave said later, it was just slightly less douchey than the time we took a helicopter to a coffee shop. But, boy was it fun!

On Saturday night, we went to see Jeff Golblum & the Mildred Snitzer Orchestra at Massey Hall. We had no idea what to expect with this show, but as we do like Goldblum's quirkiness, and we wanted to fill a weekend, it seemed like a fun option. This venue was closer to our hotel, so after a satisfying meal at Spring Sushi - on a rooftop overlooking Dundas Square, the weather and vibe were perfect - we strolled over to Massey Hall and took our front row balconey seats (we were literally as close as this picture Dave took looks). Goldblum came out alone at first to riff with the crowd (introducing his Canadian inlaws, thanking the PR folks who had lined up press for him earlier in the day, regaling us with insider Hollywood stories), and after playing "The Movie Game" (someone in the audience names a movie and Goldblum names an obscure actor in it and then someone else needs to shout out another movie that person has been in, on and on), Goldblum then said, "Oh oh oh, we can play the anthem game. Someone sings a national anthem - it doesn't have to be The Stars and Stripes - and then, oh oh oh, it could be O Canada..." He started the first line, and then suddenly, everyone started singing, here and there people stood until we all were standing and singing - with Goldblum kneeling on stage with his hat over his heart - and I don't think that went the way he had planned, lol. When it was done, he said, "Usually someone sings something really obscure and then we all learn it, but that was good. Yes, good." (And that was as close as he got to acknowledging the political in these trying times. By contrast, Taylor opened the night before with, "It's good to be here in Canada. And just let me say sorry for...well, you know." We appreciated that.)

I was initially a bit disappointed when the orchestra (jazz ensemble) came out and Goldblum sat at the piano with his back to us, but eventually, I appreciated our perspective. Goldblum plays like a super enthusiastic fan: he is surprisingly capable, but he let the rest of the band do the heavy lifting, with him noodling and plinking away at adding periodic syncopation, spending at least half the time turned towards the audience, gawkily spinning those long and gangly arms and legs, clapping and stomping or snapping his fingers to the beat, and perhaps you had to be seated behind him, as we were, to see how little he was actually playing but completely enjoying himself. It was all classic jazz tunes, and while Goldblum sang a couple of songs himself, the feature singer was Khailah Johnson (who had just finished starring on Broadway in "& Juliet") and she was sublime. We went in not knowing what to expect, and left thoroughly entertained.

Also: It was Pride Weekend in Toronto, and there was a real party atmosphere in the city, with the sidewalks downtown full of couples and groups of friends, some in fun colours, all smiling and vibing. Our hotel was near Nathan Philips Square, and every time we walked past, there were performers on the stage, folks dancing in the crowd, and just a general atmosphere of celebration and goodwill. We had a wonderful weekend, beginning to end.

Now, I could have chosen any number of songs for this Tunesday, but when Taylor starting singing this one, Dave grabbed my hand and said, "It has been a long, long time, and I feel fine." What better sentiment than that for an anniversary weekend?

And I feel fine anytime she's around me now

She's around me now

Almost all the time

If I'm well you can tell she's been with me now

She's been with me now quite a long, long time

Yes and I feel fine