tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35213488702061916402024-03-05T04:25:49.774-08:00S.O.L.D: So Omni-Love Diva (formerly Sistah Lois)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-49545472561877545422013-03-22T10:21:00.000-07:002013-03-27T11:12:54.738-07:00New Blog!You all know that life is about change, right? Well, I've transitioned into <i><b>Sistah</b></i> Omni-Love Diva. You can find me at: <b><a href="http://sistahomnilovediva.blogspot.ca/">http://sistahomnilovediva.blogspot.ca/</a> </b>See you there!<span id="goog_456183333"></span><span id="goog_456183334"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-45801781629663028572013-01-15T15:47:00.000-08:002013-02-06T09:52:25.003-08:00Relevance referenced daily...Martin Luther King Jr....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCrpbzz8RXUBhyNzHDWZmJPQ3yyxtUUTIx_AJ1vAPrmo9ERcV2xYu6rB9Sn9E7qY-AC6OxOCdaiIvMdhLYMy-09Ez36qr2AhJZ954HIt10QL-bxDZY63QNc7WHIEkwI6gyDjdyP5pMrGVK/s1600/MLK_dream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCrpbzz8RXUBhyNzHDWZmJPQ3yyxtUUTIx_AJ1vAPrmo9ERcV2xYu6rB9Sn9E7qY-AC6OxOCdaiIvMdhLYMy-09Ez36qr2AhJZ954HIt10QL-bxDZY63QNc7WHIEkwI6gyDjdyP5pMrGVK/s1600/MLK_dream.jpg" /></a></div>
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Well, we've probably all heard tell how Martin had a dream, and ofttimes I imagine he was wide awake. Martin's <i>vizhans</i> were no mere sleepy eyed, subconsious ramblings! He must have sat right up in bed, thoroughly
wide awake, and fully cognizant of the putrid stench of
huwomanities inherently imbalanced formula for eliminating
<i>different</i>. Right there in the dark, Martin must have been feeling and seeing his own reality and our futures with such clarity that he enabled him to document and speechify the depth and breadth of his heart's secret desire.</div>
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<i>I so get him!</i> I wish, too, that I could and would be judged by the "content of
my character", by the positive and up-full actions and thoughts I strive to live out--especially those moments when no one is looking, timing, and estimating
the values of my acts and/or my person.</div>
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Alas, unlike Martin, my nighttime rapid eye
movement dream recollections have always eluded me. Still, Martin's words are always there to guide me whenever I catch myself uttering cultural observations that make ill-conceived judgement of a situation. I do it all the time: make snap
opinions of others based solely on their externals: slump of shoulder,
tightness of face, etc. You feel me, right? Because we are all so guilty of those thoughts, so guilty. But we catch ourselves. We catch it, and we wake up, and hear Martin's words. He comes to all of us, consciously or unconsciously, reminding us that it's time for changes that are long past.</div>
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Brother Martin was a realist, showing alternative
pathways through a reality that is what it is, reminding us all not to trip
out and get tangled up with packaging and external wraps. He continues to illuminate
the fact that the shiny wrapping will often blind us into barricading
our pain-filled experiences, tying our <i>vizhanz</i> down. So, just discard the old time rubbish ways of viewing those not like ourselves with negativity and move forward with positivity--until shown otherwise.</div>
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On this rainy day with my aches and pains, I dream of physical and mental ease...like folks in China dream of easier breaths, or people in Mali's
nation dream of easier movements forward. I know we all dream of easier smiles, as America's first
afrikan-heritaged leader reclaims the title of President in 2013. All nations bear blessed witness to this second inauguration of Barack Obama on Martin Luther King Jr.'s Day. May he continue to initiate monumental
changes in a backwards thinking, working-against-change political
landscape until the downpressive way of thinking is done! That is <i><b>my</b></i>
dream. After all, it is MLK Jr. who also penned these words...<i>"Out of a
mountain of despair it is up to each individual to carve out our own
stone of hope, with action"</i>...</div>
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Peace.<br />
<br />
More about Martin at <a href="http://www.thekingcenter.org/">http://www.thekingcenter.org</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-3463637871256117522013-01-12T11:19:00.000-08:002013-02-02T11:15:04.766-08:00'Tis the Season!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTs_l3PVo0fst4CZt7nKVrL9wqH9xLxF3s1-F9M8K0sUfLtQtCjYXZ3PwNe9affuPF24T4oalaXmC6bVJpn7uZYueZ56GXxZFupXNKXM_Ij4J72OH-OUpdfrOsAf2a1WblA9AG8zF3tXa3/s1600/omni.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTs_l3PVo0fst4CZt7nKVrL9wqH9xLxF3s1-F9M8K0sUfLtQtCjYXZ3PwNe9affuPF24T4oalaXmC6bVJpn7uZYueZ56GXxZFupXNKXM_Ij4J72OH-OUpdfrOsAf2a1WblA9AG8zF3tXa3/s1600/omni.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Performing in "Music for the Heart & Soul" (Toronto General Hospital) December 27, 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-22702132415841055792011-09-24T08:36:00.000-07:002011-09-24T09:22:35.919-07:00Join Me for Culture Days! Sept. 30, Oct. 1 & 2Yes, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">dahlins</span>, I know, I know... I've been back in Toronto for many months and I haven't been in touch. Well, give <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">thanxz</span> I have been working (sometimes paid, sometimes not) and haven't had time to get back to this blog.<br /><br />While I have been away, I re-birthed myself. I am now <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">S.O.L.D</span> (So <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Omni</span>-Love Diva). Will explain this transformation at a later date, but for right now I need you to come out and support the youth I have been collaborating with.<br /><br />Come out and enjoy yourself, and build the esteem of the younger generation.<br />Here is a word from the <a style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;" href="http://culturedays.ca/en/2011-activities/view/4e31a0c2-e570-4273-bebd-64f84c4a89be"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Culture Days</span> </a>website:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"In collaboration with <span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Culture Days</span></span> and the <span>Neighbourhood Arts Network</span>, <span>Toronto Public Library</span> hosts over 80 Toronto-based artists and arts organizations in a celebration of arts and culture at library branches throughout the city of Toronto. Sold&Loft youth programming presents the art of praise at Mount Dennis Library.<br /><br />The <span>Loft Players</span> (that is us, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">dahlins</span>) will share music with spoken words, sung lyrics and rapped chants by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">DJ's</span>, while creating interactive conceptual art utilizing recycled items to explore the similarities of faces in all communities. Participants will have the opportunity to dance to free styling original beats, created in the Loft Studios by hip, young producers and become a live part of the set and stage for the dramatic storytelling and movements of The Loft Players.<br /><br />With power-filled words, music, movement, song and dance,<br />self-blessing art is where we consult ourselves on how things are going, where we give ourselves “big ups.” The art of praise explores the need for creative participation in life cycles as part and parcel of urban survival " doing it for ourselves" and speaks to ultimate life truth.<br /><br /><span>Organizer</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">S.O.L.D</span> & <span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Loft Youth Programming</span><br /><br /><span>Date(s) & Time(s)</span>:<br />Friday, September 30, 2011 — 3:00 PM - 5:30 PM<br /><br /><span>Location</span><br />Mount Denis Library, 1123 Weston Road<br />Toronto, Ontario<br /><a href="http://maps.google.com/?q=the+art+of+praise+%2F+Mount+Denis+Library%2C+1123+Weston+Road%2C+ON%2C+M6N+3S3%2C+Canada@43.686535,-79.488419&hl=en&mrt=loc">View Map of this Activity</a><br /><br /><span>Language</span><br />English<br /><br /><span>Accessibility</span><br />This activity is wheelchair accessible.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-61255550593335875222010-04-17T07:20:00.000-07:002010-04-17T07:22:51.754-07:00ON HIATUSHey, folks. Taking a break right now to do some personal exploration. It's not easy being a adult orphan. Mummy and Daddy gone on to their resting places and I have to find out how to journey without them on this plane. <br />One Love, <br />SistahUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-73680074488128921762010-02-10T07:10:00.000-08:002010-02-10T09:29:29.195-08:00SOLIDARITY! SOLIDARITY! SOLIDARITY!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDmMJXoEtgUJAEQKAhJ9uWOKpJeITt5rEIrlANoelA0JgzfV6EWplXfMy5CRF6Z97iLUYM4hntWQjNoWTwayifAiouOg8H2bZlVg0gi474QUxJ81Ihi35GsKxWtaUoy8osajitvfhpjETp/s1600-h/ApusLogoNew.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 169px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDmMJXoEtgUJAEQKAhJ9uWOKpJeITt5rEIrlANoelA0JgzfV6EWplXfMy5CRF6Z97iLUYM4hntWQjNoWTwayifAiouOg8H2bZlVg0gi474QUxJ81Ihi35GsKxWtaUoy8osajitvfhpjETp/s200/ApusLogoNew.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436076171130672402" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">A protest song in solidarity with <a href="http://www.apus.utoronto.ca/">APUS</a>(Association of Part-Time Undergraduate Students)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Oh mercy, mercy, me things aint what they used to be, <br />Sky- rocketing, tuitions fe-e-es, <br />Straight attack, to access equity,<br />Oh mercy, mercy, me, to add insult to injury, <br />Tyrannical promise: a mere 66% increase, So bold faced, they calling it a Flat Fee,</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4IWaMIEig7ato2TBJq1DAaim0397JOoosohQGwPD-F_B8oBLLP28X8KVdDmr-owIgCjyfEghZAlrL7G034r9XpUAv1RI3vO8_l4lqE0kOpbZKSSm-GeaQ8uDahetzvWDDvWIHjIBJ1zU8/s1600-h/UOTNewLogo.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 147px; height: 147px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4IWaMIEig7ato2TBJq1DAaim0397JOoosohQGwPD-F_B8oBLLP28X8KVdDmr-owIgCjyfEghZAlrL7G034r9XpUAv1RI3vO8_l4lqE0kOpbZKSSm-GeaQ8uDahetzvWDDvWIHjIBJ1zU8/s200/UOTNewLogo.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436076416816020530" /></a><span style="font-style:italic;">Oh mercy, mercy, me dem must be think we stupidy, <br />Plan’s to keep poor peoples out of University…<br />Fee hikes, make education unattainable, U of T’s acting unreasonably,<br />Cutting back vitally crucial equity programs only, <br />Go on now take it, take another little piece of our life line Uni.<br />Like we’re not already struggling to meet the rising cost of food & shelter,<br />Post-Secondary education, indicates a desire to escape poverty, <br />UofT claims it’s too poor to replace retired faculty, <br />Means; substandard educators, contract teaching staff, for all!<br /><br />Another high performance sports centre, they can find money, somehow?<br />We’re all in this economic turndown boat together,<br />But just equity programs seeing stormy weather, <br />Clearly reflects UofT’s inhumane priorities and skewed views, shows a lack of people value, <br />For the have not’s you make it more of a strain, undergraduate education to attain: <br />It’s no surprise part-time Undergraduates status= major financial difficulty<br />Marcus Mosiah Garvey said, Education of the masses in the key: <br />To a more empowered less angry huwomanity? <br />That would mean we could count on our administration and police force to support a silent sit in.<br />Years of sit in protest, finally heard and acknowledged: emancipated colonized afrikans, <br />Gave women the vote, and yes integrated the schools.<br />Without the right to protest where would be?<br /><br />Protest means we’re airing out alternative points of view.<br />University Student’s protest on campuses is nothing new.<br />Protest indicates dissatisfaction, No negative ideologies nor cruel methods, like<br />Criminalization of student protesters is loudly denounced. <br />What’s up with that? Now we arrest folks whose desires differ?<br />Profiteers like David Naylor we’ve got to bounce. Any wonder,<br />this institution’s heinous intentions are painfully clear,<br />When the only cutback affected programs are;<br />Diverse Studies, Women& Gender, Disability, and Transitional Year.hmm…Reads like<br />Pure- Sexism, Ageism, Class-ism, Size-ism, Rac-ism, any old kind of bullshit slap in the face -ism<br />Feigned economical & financial facts-ism is what we’re fed, <br />Perhaps UofT’s administrators haven’t noticed but we’re all in an economic upside turn down bed.<br />And, it’s the part-time student, having the restless night.<br />When advanced education’s for the privileged, and not a basic human right.<br /><br />U of T is quite conveniently located, placed in the centre of Toronto, town.<br />Naylor’s administrators must think it’s a circus, why they running it like real clowns,<br />Part-time undergraduate students, they plan to displace<br />With no offer being made of alternate locale or space, <br />Perhaps APUS should claim squatter’s rights in Naylor’s office<br />What ever would we do with all that “room”?<br /><br />Oh, mercy, mercy me, Academic equality, Oh!<br />We could run this campus based on student democracy, <br />Then the haves and have notes line we’d quickly erase, <br />Diversity boundaries we’d no longer see, <br />Education for All; even folks who can ill afford to pay taxes, <br />Could move on up if we’d just face fact-es, we’d solve all our worries: Mercy, mercy me; change is what we want to see…..make education Free.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">SOLIDARITY!</span><br />Want to know more about APUS?<br />Visit: <a href="http://www.apus.utoronto.ca/">http://www.apus.utoronto.ca/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-4350738883534670062010-02-09T00:41:00.000-08:002010-02-09T00:41:00.099-08:00THOUGHTS: Conquering Fears<div align="justify">Today marks the second in-house sessions of sistahlois’ creative capers. At home, last week was a busy time, as I’ve been blessed with three lovely young girls, ages 13, 11, & 7, vocals and piano for two and voice only for the 13 yr. old. For me the most taxing was the taking of monies and receipt giving and I realize that I really hate money in my hand--not sure where this undeserving feeling comes from. I have no challenge accepting gifts, but anything that seems like pay seems to also carry this kind of servitude that harkens back to the financial intimidation the allowed me to stay at CNR, and with several other arrangements that have led to a lot of personal damage to my trust quotient. It’s kind of confusing this feeling of not deserving--cause there are things I am brilliant at and deserve to be paid an even more excellent rate for.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3gosvh96GW6-2vs1SCApXOLcUxJfFcDZDdIvmtbszDCBIqXYP9K4GEVKifQgCqhpNaZOcP3-E1yg910Pvj1rZ_Rw1p8XukVZiDfa04fwqTRPj5XYRFFOTeaDC3TQU6dLiaj-r4unVzJp/s1600-h/Marian+Anderson.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3gosvh96GW6-2vs1SCApXOLcUxJfFcDZDdIvmtbszDCBIqXYP9K4GEVKifQgCqhpNaZOcP3-E1yg910Pvj1rZ_Rw1p8XukVZiDfa04fwqTRPj5XYRFFOTeaDC3TQU6dLiaj-r4unVzJp/s200/Marian+Anderson.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436110481971702242" /></a>According to the mother of my 11 yr. old student, her daughter thinks she hates opera and has refused to get involved with an “opera teacher.” So, I didn’t try to sell it to the daughter. I just let her do her thing. I was thrilled that after her first half hour when I figured she’d been challenged enough she said, “You know, I thought I would hate this but you’re really cool” I replied, “I’m not cool: you are. Look at the things you sang today that you thought you’d hate or that you couldn’t do.”<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqjcITvNifvzraN5kbRpxrUp1b94rWQ8DgDpR0feOv8-e3gwLOBWmqWHHNZpW7uiQkSeq6aiMb57K84SLffb0cSZPSY5ZDwUTSntUYV0Yp_msmnroLFkZSwT7sVqejw9LsFV3OCwKl_-A/s1600-h/leontyne-price4.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqjcITvNifvzraN5kbRpxrUp1b94rWQ8DgDpR0feOv8-e3gwLOBWmqWHHNZpW7uiQkSeq6aiMb57K84SLffb0cSZPSY5ZDwUTSntUYV0Yp_msmnroLFkZSwT7sVqejw9LsFV3OCwKl_-A/s200/leontyne-price4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436110958286764802" /></a>Flashback to my own mother trying to sell me on <span style="font-weight:bold;">Marian Anderson</span>, <span style="font-weight:bold;">Leontyne Price</span>, and <span style="font-weight:bold;">Jessye Norman</span>. I bought what she was selling: that the voice could be a magnificent tool or weapon. My mother had faith in my talents, even though at age 13 a vocal adjudicator told me that though I would make a great performer /entertainer, I lacked operatic qualities. Well, my vocal coach was not impressed by that verdict. When she heard that, she made a face and spit to her left with a quick look of disdain. “You open your mouth girl, and sing. You’ve got quality coming out your wazoo!” I think of her again as this Saturday begins. I need to listen to the messages of my old vocal teacher and stand on the knowledge I have gained and the talents that I have.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufr2wU2HUTOUU2NyXNJzqlNe_Xs_vs4Y-kLDbWNznIOURa1p3yCFj1d_4lXM-wSjbX8JBbGvNl3k0mh_wv-POp9PAGhrZ_p1cWPQPPQkeuarmCYOfWajRKeDMP6DvyExpAwGCnCMYRMoL/s1600-h/Jessye+Norman.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 151px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufr2wU2HUTOUU2NyXNJzqlNe_Xs_vs4Y-kLDbWNznIOURa1p3yCFj1d_4lXM-wSjbX8JBbGvNl3k0mh_wv-POp9PAGhrZ_p1cWPQPPQkeuarmCYOfWajRKeDMP6DvyExpAwGCnCMYRMoL/s200/Jessye+Norman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436111462233833106" /></a>I really was afraid about this week’s public airing of my own personal dirty laundry (see previous post) and it went fine. Everything was cool, especially me. My notes fell to the floor right at the start, and there they stayed. I surprised myself with how well the story flowed section by section. It came out with honesty and no tears; just calmly expressed. I didn’t win the story slam, but I conquered that fear and I received great audience response. <br /><br />I know I’m inspired to continue to create these honest yet painful pieces. I know that I am blessed with the things I can do, and I know I have to continue taking the money and writing those receipts. To deal with this fear of people paying for my gift, I have to think of the many, many years I have studied and look upon the money exchange as a bonus that pays the rent and the bills so that I can continue sharing my musical gifts. The Divas of my past and present (yes, Jessye is very much A-LIVE!) have had to overcome racial discrimination and harassment in order to sing. I refuse to let a little bit of paper hold me down.<br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The DIVAS!</span><br />Marian Anderson:<a href="http://www.mariananderson.org/">http://www.mariananderson.org/</a><br />Leontyne Price: <a href="http://www.mswritersandmusicians.com/musicians/leontyne-price.html">http://www.mswritersandmusicians.com/musicians/leontyne-price.html</a><br />Jessye Norman: <a href="http://www.myspace.com/jessyenormanfanpage">http://www.myspace.com/jessyenormanfanpage</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-20396441483416596912010-02-08T19:28:00.000-08:002010-02-09T06:19:48.807-08:00I SURVIVED!<div align="justify">It's FEBRUARY already! Afrikan Liberation Month? Well, I and I not too, too much into having just one month to celebrate ALL the contributions of Afrikans and the diaspora (not enough time!), but if it shines some light on the suppressed and oppressed?--one love.<br /><br />Speaking of suppressed and oppressed: I liberated myself at The Spotlight Project last month. Remember, I was taking part in their <a href="http://www.thespotlightproject.ca/event/2010/all-days-work-story-slam-fundraiser-yes">All in a Day's Work</a> fundraisier on support of <a href="http://www.yes.on.ca/">YES Toronto</a>? Well, I did it! I stood in front of a room full of people and shared a very personal story that has been lurking in the shadows of my being for years! Well, the tale finally broke through into the light, and guess what? I let it SHINE:-)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">My Intro:</span><br />Let me preamble, my tales with a reminder; that 1988 marked the Federal Governments fourth mandated directive that Canadian National Railways must hire more wombmyn trades persons, this time the order is sweetened by financial seduction. I was one of those pioneer wombmyn. Since leaving CNR; I have never been taken off the employee roster, in 2000 CNR made me a buy out offer, if I were to sign a gag order. I’m here telling a portion of my story so you can guess my response.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">My Story:</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLFvOwnYceDrVO74nsF4yOW3oMeJu4dETGh9501uxGiQQRmke5n96_myrVGoXILFuCNmy08lNjlcG2NVXT7A_O4wQUNAfTY3Da_-xvGNLgOL3Av8WUOKt5S2e9QvuSYA873wwVvCXmsJ1/s1600-h/SISTAH+AT+APUS.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLFvOwnYceDrVO74nsF4yOW3oMeJu4dETGh9501uxGiQQRmke5n96_myrVGoXILFuCNmy08lNjlcG2NVXT7A_O4wQUNAfTY3Da_-xvGNLgOL3Av8WUOKt5S2e9QvuSYA873wwVvCXmsJ1/s200/SISTAH+AT+APUS.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436095799195527138" /></a><span style="font-style:italic;">Woke up this morning and I’m so glad about it. I’m so glad to be alive! I love to sing. My first response to any query will be the lyrics of some song. Anytime I’m singing, I feel connected to the natural world. In Manitoba, where I grew, folks sang for everything, any task or journey is lightened by a voice raised in song.<br /><br />“Back in the day”, it was normal to see girls and wombmyn, doing repairs on their own tractors, bikes or ski-doo; we mechanical chicks were celebrated. The general machinist trade caught my fancy. At, Red River Community College I was the valedictorian while being the 1 wombmyn of the 21 in my graduating class. I quickly advance in my term positions with the Department of Defense, and the Winnipeg Health Sciences Centre. I also did piecework for General Motors, Dofasco, and Toyota. CNR meant a sideways move, one whole province over. I’d cut and machined numerous mechanical parts, indexed a lifetime of flywheels, up-keeping the ancient engines of Canada’s tanks. How hard could it be? Doing parts installation for maintaining old train engines. <br /><br />Having wombmyn at CNR meant a redefined: “safety first” rule, that forced the purging of pornographic photos and drawings from most common area walls, I’m blamed for this action which fosters a greater hatred of me. The only wombmyn on back shifts, I’m treated to an insidious onslaught of insulting behaviors night after night; the purging had only increased the environments toxicity I move covertly where possible, my head down, singing myself calm, song is my refuge. I sing to pace my movements. With song I masks my disappointment to find I’m a machinist in job title only; not one familiar task. Song gives flow as I walk the gauntlet of inane comments, traverse vast distances of insults, climb heights of anxiety, and I plumb the depths of reproach, while on contrived searches to locate and retrieve elusive engine parts, any machinist could well fashion themselves, but here, I’m back in school, earning a second ticket as a heavy-duty diesel mechanic. {Such a sacrilege the only lathe that CNR has on site is rusting on a back lotL a beautiful Dean Smith &Grace 17, Made in Manitoba}<br /><br />I stay vigilant, ever on guard against the illicit, raucous group laughter, used to camouflage the intentional falling-down “oops!” accidental groping of my body parts. I shrug off the most painful of things with song. Cloaked by song, I remain blissfully engaged in my labour, keenly aware that my singing only feigns peace of mind in a place where I truly feel unsafe. Still, I sing my worries, concerns, and rebuttals; my spoken words don’t match the language of this land, they seem incomprehensible and go unheard. Then, I am called for a private health and safety meeting in managements offices, not being in a common area; pages of scantily clad Sunshine-girls & pin-ups are proudly displayed. Seems like my groping falling-down-with-laughter workmates who’d constantly jeered: “don’t quit your day job!” had slowed in their production. While I sang to lighten my load, they dropped their loads to listen. My voice is a “liability”, my songs; a” breach of health and safety”. For the record, I state that I use song as a way of overriding habitual-on-the-job harassment; of course, they are so adamantly focused on my not singing they can’t hear my spoken words. Safety first!!” is shouted, “Radios aren’t allowed on the machine shop floor, Singing while you work is an infraction”!! CNR’s “Safety first” slogan, apparently counted for machinery and virtual rapists, not for the bodies & souls of wombmyn workers. A promissory agreement is signed; “I will not sing while I work.” <br /><br />Song; my only freedom, and combat weapon the perfect non-violent tool against constant verbal aggression, a prairie Afrikan on a rocky northern plantation singing coded songs in the presence of the ignorant, oppressive overseer. Now what?<br /><br />Enraged I return to my isolated engine room incarceration, careful to not let any sound escape my lips. Song is silenced but the music continues. Small trickles of sound seem to get by my safety ear plugs, until those rumbling rhythms of engine sounds penetrate my mind with clarity. I’ve begun to hear music in the lift of every lever, in every tappet that descends; each cam and crankshafts rotation hold song with complex syncopations. Inspired I become a writer of songs and rhythmic poetry in a noisy engine room. Brake times find me pen in hand, as I express the torture of this life, my determination to get through each day in a place where song is forbidden. It was this toxic environment with heinous conditions, which I endured for seven more yearsL.<br /><br />On my last day, as I’m passing an emergency (only) loudspeaker phone that cover both VIA and GO yards. “forbidden” still, I pick it up even as my tears of rage flow, I proudly lend voice to song…”I’ll give my hand to those who cannot see the sunrise or the falling rain, I’ll sing my song to cheer the weary along, for I may never pass this way again.” I never did.<br /><br />I avoid driving through Mimico. I accept that my ear will always differentiate between a 710 and 645 engine sounds, occasionally upon hearing of some Go train mishap, I’ve railed against the federal government’s possibly still paying CNR cash incentives; for me, I’m a “twofer” you see! {All in one federal family I guess?} I’m physically irked to think of my being cheated, harassed and intimidated out of two skilled trades; Gratefully, I got out before they could suppress all my creativity. My voice I freely raise.<br /><br />My current labour of love is creative healing in my community; there are folks all over the GTA singing those rhythmic poems and engine room songs. Song is still my soul’s rebellion. . Do you hear that passing 645 engine? Hey! That’s Gloria Gaynor? Yes…at first I was disgusted, soiled, felt petrified, not knowing how to cleanse the nasty wounds from my inside. Yes, I wasted loads of time, wondering what had I done wrong? Found, I was strong! I stayed alive! I got along! I survived!<br /></span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Spotlight Charity is showing Haiti some love on February 14th. <a href="http://thespotlightproject.ca/event/2010/show-haiti-love">Please click</a> here for more information.<br /><br />Here is a link to an article about the event posted by the <span style="font-weight:bold;">torontoist</span>: <a href="http://torontoist.com/2010/02/working_class_heroes.php">http://torontoist.com/2010/02/working_class_heroes.php</a><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-84420135758009169692010-01-22T18:00:00.000-08:002010-01-22T18:57:08.437-08:00YES!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsiURCmt0nuuP0wIuvNYcvL7pb9jSqfdPvPYV2iaNhw4P_94jrqv-TmVfuo-rtZ5ZHftdCARVqv-3fW7Jbd9gEOl2_RzQrV_EHx3R3zXBsXaiIRNDC7ktq53YuanyzsqcK_q8JizxluhE/s1600-h/SISTAH+AT+RH.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsiURCmt0nuuP0wIuvNYcvL7pb9jSqfdPvPYV2iaNhw4P_94jrqv-TmVfuo-rtZ5ZHftdCARVqv-3fW7Jbd9gEOl2_RzQrV_EHx3R3zXBsXaiIRNDC7ktq53YuanyzsqcK_q8JizxluhE/s200/SISTAH+AT+RH.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429763664641566914" /></a>Happy 2010, Everybody!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Yes, it's been a while since I've tapped these fingers on the computer keyboard</span>, but I'm back because I want to share something with you that will benefit a wonderful charity called <a href="http://www.yes.on.ca/">YES</a> (Youth Employment Services). When I was a youth of fourteen, YES was instrumental in my acquirement of a nice interim placement on my way to this so magnificent career I'm now engaged in.<br /><br />YES continues to help youngsters in many ways, and, on January 28th the organization will be the featured charity of <a href="http://thespotlightproject.ca/contact-us">The Spotlight Project</a>. As one of the night's participants in the "All in a Day's Work" story slam, I will be sharing tales of life on the Canadian National Railways, and, you know me, I have to do it with words as well as song. It won't be easy revisiting that time, but it's been cathartic writing it down and I know sharing it publicly will be an act of emancipation.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Please say "YES!"</span> to this invitation to a wonderful fundraiser with a relateable twist. As The Spotlight Project says, <span style="font-style:italic;">"Whether you make six dollars an hour or six figures a year – every job comes with a compelling story."</span> Bring some friends, but it's up to you whether or not you bring your boss;-)<br /><br />Here are the details:<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">All in a Day’s Work: A StorySlam fundraiser for YES!<br />January 28, 2010 - 8:00pm<br />Doors open at 7:00pm<br />57 Adelaide St. East<br />Regular Admission: $35<br />VIP Ticket: $75<br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What is a StorySlam?</span><br />A storyslam is an exciting storytelling competition where participants have five to seven minutes to tell their greatest story in front of a live audience. Stories can be funny, inspiring, tragic or even just plain silly. No matter what, the story has to be true and good enough to win over the audience’s vote! (<span style="font-style:italic;">source:</span> <a href="http://thespotlightproject.ca/node/1">www.thespotlightproject.ca</a>)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">About YES</span> (Youth Employment Services)<br />YES believes that employment is empowerment and the cornerstone of safe and healthy communities. YES leads the Canadian youth sector with innovative programs that empower disadvantaged and vulnerable youth to become self-sufficient contributing members of society. (<span style="font-style:italic;">source:</span> <a href="http://www.yes.on.ca/">www.yes.on.ca</a>)<br /><br />1lv.sistahUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-1653251248482806822009-12-08T07:00:00.000-08:002009-12-08T07:23:49.821-08:00December Mourning: RIP Isaiah McIntyre Jacob<span style="font-weight:bold;">Well folks, I've been down on the couch for more than a week trying to get my head around my parents' death.</span> You know I've recently been dealing with the anniversary of my mother's death, and now, I have to deal with the recent death of my father. <br /><br />I know he was 88, but I know he wasn't done with life yet. I was already curious as to why he was in the hospital in the first place, and even more so when he told me "Girl, I work real hard all mi life, but not so my leg should just give out under me so! Must be the drugs dem"... Well, I feel that he was right and that connection I had with him, is why in the middle of church, I felt him pass on into the next life. Sunday, November 29th at 11:00 am is the time he died and that is the exact time I was overwhelmed in church. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">RIP Isaiah McIntyre Jacob</span><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Born on September 10, 1921 in Maruga, T&T <br />Baby boy #3, of a thirteen children family<br />He was preceeded by his wife Rosana (nee Samm) in 1999<br />Affectionally known as 'Uncle Owen" he leaves behind:<br />his children Ancil, Lois, grandson Troy, Great-grands, Caleb and Olivia. <br />Numberless neices and nephews, and his consort, Linda. <br /></span><br />Give thanxz to all who sent her thier kind words of comfort...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-47315630972895843432009-11-11T13:04:00.000-08:002009-11-11T13:57:25.773-08:00THOUGHTS: Long Time...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSNjS5mrrVTyWMpIAGMZS8NAR4PNcNLtZHm4DAMcHAMVf9eDzvJjb_5gbvbRnmUh3sZ3BFZirxUOEzQsiY7za3sl728n3hfuZIy9c-hmVWrGyTlmkV4n6pqoDvOMILgPoQ00PUVFUC2dR/s1600-h/SISTAH+AT+APUS.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSNjS5mrrVTyWMpIAGMZS8NAR4PNcNLtZHm4DAMcHAMVf9eDzvJjb_5gbvbRnmUh3sZ3BFZirxUOEzQsiY7za3sl728n3hfuZIy9c-hmVWrGyTlmkV4n6pqoDvOMILgPoQ00PUVFUC2dR/s200/SISTAH+AT+APUS.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402955572234530754" /></a> <span style="font-weight:bold;">You can't tell from this photo, but I am playing the piano in my bare feet.</span> I find this method of playing the most comfortable for me: I can feel the pedals better and it allows me to <span style="font-style:italic;">"swang"</span> as someone said in the APUS crowd. <br /><br />I know it's been a while since I updated, but look at my last post and you will see mention of SistahNuVizhan's (that's us) concert for APUS (Association for Part-time Undergraduates) at U of T. Playing with <span style="font-weight:bold;">Zoe, Rachel</span> and <span style="font-weight:bold;">Kit</span> was a blast. It was also a very nurturing experience the way we all came together musically.<br /><br /><h2><span style="font-weight:bold;">So, what have I been up to since that concert?</span></h2>Many, many, many things, but you know what the most draining and inspiring thing is that I have done? Writing. Yes, writing. Some of you know me from my storytelling in and around town (your little ones certainly remember me when I am out in public), and I've been writing for years, but very little has actually been published; I've been too busy performing these pieces. Well, I revisited some of the pieces that I wrote way, way, back, did some editing and started scribbling some bits and pieces of newness.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">...And other things:</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6tvkpmBXUquG5sO9PsJ_tEKchcnGqY3EKSFrvEahYbQq3Im60A4FNijprH27w0Xe2bsTMU0lrmSAN5uj1CsLv6NCNObPoP6I_WU03_MSNiQRZH1DFxLs8FEewKuFrLYWi8SMBnKmGxi9/s1600-h/Lois+and+Virlia.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6tvkpmBXUquG5sO9PsJ_tEKchcnGqY3EKSFrvEahYbQq3Im60A4FNijprH27w0Xe2bsTMU0lrmSAN5uj1CsLv6NCNObPoP6I_WU03_MSNiQRZH1DFxLs8FEewKuFrLYWi8SMBnKmGxi9/s200/Lois+and+Virlia.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402955268136212018" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5tfNFw4BygKhXCsGSgKXzB4flfzyAxfjyxkGuSZW5Niglm7PNnHKAAEmcIiFICjmVrLXoPJSEn_Y9ljJ_4Pp3H_xM9FWZHxjxDLd8xkYCBgOmwU45DdmKWWo-8ddOWXXs00RNHvLAotf/s1600-h/Kirk+and+Lois.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5tfNFw4BygKhXCsGSgKXzB4flfzyAxfjyxkGuSZW5Niglm7PNnHKAAEmcIiFICjmVrLXoPJSEn_Y9ljJ_4Pp3H_xM9FWZHxjxDLd8xkYCBgOmwU45DdmKWWo-8ddOWXXs00RNHvLAotf/s200/Kirk+and+Lois.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402955263053101170" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Reunited with</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Kirk Cooper</span> for donna g's fundraising show (<a href="http://tmtmshow.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-style:italic;">The More the Merrier</span></a>) at CIUT 89.5 FM. Kirk and I have been giving out those fundraising numbers, sometime sung ("ring them phones..."you better ring them phones", sometimes divided between the two of us (me: 416-946 him: 7800). I also ran into <span style="font-weight:bold;">Verlia Stephens</span> from CKLN and chatted with her for a bit during <span style="font-style:italic;">The African Woman and Family</span>. Verlia was helping them out, but it's community radio, so all the shows are in it together.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcqNNO7fq7bIpkBZQ4LygBCyTGB9KvkTyrec5NK1tcuB4tPqK_Duzbyoz8tLnUBiaSvZ6ooXg2Zi_M5_LQLjdj7YHYhC2GCdSs_Uvkd3aKhberiLC8z3JwaMtOwHIDYhHAuZzWoKS1T8k/s1600-h/shanghaiexpress_Large.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcqNNO7fq7bIpkBZQ4LygBCyTGB9KvkTyrec5NK1tcuB4tPqK_Duzbyoz8tLnUBiaSvZ6ooXg2Zi_M5_LQLjdj7YHYhC2GCdSs_Uvkd3aKhberiLC8z3JwaMtOwHIDYhHAuZzWoKS1T8k/s200/shanghaiexpress_Large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402961957412991890" /></a><h2>Surprised?</h2>Who doesn't like a good Marlene Dietrich movie, especially seeing in on a big screen at Jackman Hall? I felt like I was watching <a href="http://cinemathequeontario.ca/filmdetail.aspx?filmId=1728&GrpId=0">Shanghai Express</a> with my mother. She loved those old black and white films...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">As usual I continue with the</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Art of Praise Chorale Collective</span> every Tuesday evening. Come join us. No audition/voice training necessary. We're just looking for people with good hears. Hope to see YOU soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-17526652357125644452009-10-21T06:58:00.000-07:002009-10-21T07:12:20.638-07:00SistahNuVizhan @UofT TODAY 5:30@100Devonshire<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfISqwH10Xmfv4m_9HffenmfQxJ-y01DSj0NLmAa1_gMsy-jWDsNmHlooeH86xBDkTiyXuzOhWYYobaCqFxJutDPj9q-rgL5ll1LYuWROIRGyu020Jynvwvt3cA1Y2vG9gSdo2vEHPPqR/s1600-h/SISTAH+AT+RISE+UP.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfISqwH10Xmfv4m_9HffenmfQxJ-y01DSj0NLmAa1_gMsy-jWDsNmHlooeH86xBDkTiyXuzOhWYYobaCqFxJutDPj9q-rgL5ll1LYuWROIRGyu020Jynvwvt3cA1Y2vG9gSdo2vEHPPqR/s200/SISTAH+AT+RISE+UP.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395054891785280562" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Yes, folks, it's our last outdoor concert of the autumn.</span> Come and enjoy yourself. I'll be there with my voice and music on and would love for you to join myself and <span style="font-weight:bold;">Zoe </span>with <span style="font-weight:bold;">Kit</span> and her brood and <span style="font-weight:bold;">Rachel</span>'s vibration and who knows who else will arrive... So, stop by <span style="font-weight:bold;">100 Devonshire</span> at the APUS: Association for Part-time Undergraduates (across from Varsity Stadium). <span style="font-weight:bold;">FREE</span> burgers, good conversation and, of course, you get to encourage and support I&I&I&I...1lv.sistah<br /><br />By the way, <span style="font-weight:bold;">this is a first</span> in all these years that these two Jewish/Canadian princesses have ever played together, and now it's afrikan princess bringing them to a unit it's worth the trip to APUS.<br /><br />JOIN US! <span style="font-weight:bold;">SistahNuVizhan @UofT TODAY 5:30@ 100 Devonshire</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-27374832013038014832009-09-30T10:02:00.000-07:002009-10-09T11:52:17.617-07:00Thoughts: September Mourning #3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubcEr7aMHfLntsdfIK6rK_tsYNIcl9m1sRscSu7h6lHNxi-n9EcTe0hTredc95oFiy4bZAmARfVav472Q1ivwXEygEVpRNlbG2rL36zrRbGfK4wQj1dCChmbD0Qy_OaqpG1DuToAk7iQN/s1600-h/Raindrops.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubcEr7aMHfLntsdfIK6rK_tsYNIcl9m1sRscSu7h6lHNxi-n9EcTe0hTredc95oFiy4bZAmARfVav472Q1ivwXEygEVpRNlbG2rL36zrRbGfK4wQj1dCChmbD0Qy_OaqpG1DuToAk7iQN/s200/Raindrops.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390670852281294754" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">7AM Phone Call: One of my Sistafriends mom had just been rushed to St. Joe's with a stroke.</span> She was already at work out of the city and she couldn't get ahold of her actual sisters so she called me: could I please find my way to the hospital with the necessary toiletries for her mother? I said "sure", though it would take some time as I had no vehicle and would be riding my bike. (Remember I'd mentioned that for a couple of years now I don't drive during my mourning week? Well, this is the time the car goes in for it's repairs/check up etc. What better season than this, right?)<br /><br />Now this is a really good sister that was there for me when my mom was ill and in hospital. She is the kind of friend that will got down on the floor with me to scrape the scum from behind my mothers stove--not that my mom was a slob, but at a certain age, regardless of how clean you may like things to be, you physically can't get to all the places you wished were cleaner. Knowing how my mom loved clean, my friend and I were preparing for her return home by doing the things she couldn't do for herself anymore. (Sadly, the day of my mom's funeral the folks slated to pick her up for the trek to Brampton forgot all about her in their own grief and my friend has never forgiven them for that. She ofttimes mentions how I <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">must</span></span> be there when her mom passes as she missed my mom's.) <br /><br />So, I go shopping for my sistafriend's mom's toiletries (packed in a lovely little transparent plastic carrier case). Don't forget this was to be my stay-put kinda day, so I won't say I jumped to the task, but I arrived at the hospital as they were sending her mother back home. I'm not ashamed to say I saw her and I hid. I didn't even want her to suggest my coming over to her home with her. Perhaps I could have my day of mourning back. The nurses saw me and I put my index finger to my lips indicating, that not a word of my presence was to be revealed to my friend's Mom. <br /><br />Anyhow, the shocker to my friend was hearing that the same hour that her mom was going back home, her father, who had been battling lung cancer for the past 3 or 4 years and seemed to be in remission, had taken a turn for the worse. My friend called me to say she had received the follow-up messages I had left about her mother and to say that she was now heading over to her fathers place. Her father passed peacefully in her arms the next morning about 8:40 am: the same date, day and hour as my mother and at the same age (72). (Guess, they are not getting anymore than a smidgen above the three score and ten the Bible speaks.) I couldn't help feeling that even though my friend's parents have lived the last twenty plus years apart that her mother's stroke was related to her father's fading life and that their spiritual connection remained unsevered despite time and distance. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqorDRVDhuezgsscEGWMc3NSmTPpG4SvL0D8u5VDNBHe3nZ4ma-ae-IT_ZruowKI08VGgZxpEhBpOzXHriglXYlpgNKT1MucJneJ_0S-eXwq93ohNWUpquplYYuxlY50J7ZyWN-n_0dHGI/s1600-h/-Multi-coloured-Bicycle_web.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqorDRVDhuezgsscEGWMc3NSmTPpG4SvL0D8u5VDNBHe3nZ4ma-ae-IT_ZruowKI08VGgZxpEhBpOzXHriglXYlpgNKT1MucJneJ_0S-eXwq93ohNWUpquplYYuxlY50J7ZyWN-n_0dHGI/s200/-Multi-coloured-Bicycle_web.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390674860801141842" /></a>As I was coming out of my mourning week and back to reality, my friend was more than a little distraught. I recall being on my bike passing by her place at about midnight on the day her father had died. I had very little extra energy and I couldn't stop over to offer my condolences about her father, but I had promised to squeeze my bike horn as I rode by her place. I kept this promise and honked as I passed by. Out over the air came a <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">"Thank you. I love you too.” </span></span> <br /><br />On the Friday of that week, I had planned a visit to my mother's gravesite. Since my friend had never seen my mother buried, I decided to ask her to come along. I would get her out of the city and we could do a little retail therapy in Brampton at the same time. It wasn't until we were at my mother's grave that my friend realized that it was my mourning anniversary. She freaked! Why hadn't I reminded her when she called me asking for help? I said because my stuff was old pain and hers was immediate. That's when she thanked me for honking my horn and said how sorry she was to have missed seeing me. She had been crying and by the time she got to her balcony, I was gone. <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">So who had I heard calling out that they loved me?</span></span>. Strange, eh? All I know is that the words came on time and made me feel loved.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuk1WwuC8lxJC5u_UhcZ_kUJk9FeVXIwqPzEKk96KQCHacTR1gZEKnVS9v0ChPLjyTN1MY1RIBe8tJi4Bz4KvePxv1GI7AJggqaZr6Ku6xtegyuJ9FPGUagLR4TwpT7a2modJ337dyHyAl/s1600-h/sistah+over+shoulder+look.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuk1WwuC8lxJC5u_UhcZ_kUJk9FeVXIwqPzEKk96KQCHacTR1gZEKnVS9v0ChPLjyTN1MY1RIBe8tJi4Bz4KvePxv1GI7AJggqaZr6Ku6xtegyuJ9FPGUagLR4TwpT7a2modJ337dyHyAl/s200/sistah+over+shoulder+look.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390668497307977794" /></a>We stood at mom's graveside arm in arm and sang <span style="font-style:italic;">"Till We Meet at Jesus Feet"</span> as is etched on my mother's gravestone. Taking note that the flowers I'd planted there had since died, I will replace them soon, and after that I think, it's time for me to move forward. Mommy would have wanted me to. She was a woman that let nothing stand in her way. She would say God excused ignorance, but once you knew, once you got the lesson, just do better. One day we would all be held to account for what we knew and didn't live up to. So my pledge these days is to do more than say. To live and walk my own talk, and to be friend to those who show me love. It's no sacrifice; it is the reciprocity of real love.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-79741108072611185272009-09-29T11:49:00.000-07:002009-09-30T13:30:41.734-07:00THOUGHTS: September Mourning #2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmhAtNsKWpIf5gYjlla6he7yyDVG92qMVtGGSUgEXB3ws-39eLz5rZl99WNkz8vPrescTY6E3209Rl6Wb20QT2hvsAn98pbc79OfY_-PIyXFQHjBvozkAgrPHitaT7iQ0kZuXMISVFP07/s1600-h/RAIN.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmhAtNsKWpIf5gYjlla6he7yyDVG92qMVtGGSUgEXB3ws-39eLz5rZl99WNkz8vPrescTY6E3209Rl6Wb20QT2hvsAn98pbc79OfY_-PIyXFQHjBvozkAgrPHitaT7iQ0kZuXMISVFP07/s320/RAIN.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387360168273927554" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">There are so many things that unconsciously affect me and are affected by mother's passing.</span> I have, in the past years, given up driving completely during her passing over week. I used to find myself driving west on the highway and snapping back to reality wondering, <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">"What am I doing? My mom is dead."</span></span> Now I take every precaution not to schedule anything too heavy or mentally taxing during that time... <br /><br />As fates would allow it, during my grieving week, I also had a long desired artist’s professional development session at <a href="http://www.rcmusic.ca/ContentPage.aspx?name=home"><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Royal Conservatory Of Music</span></a> (recently renovated by my partner Stephen, who attended the opening concert that I couldn't share with him as I was working, “pout!”). When one is earning ones bread and butter as a freelance artist and instructor, ones personal development is all about doing and learning everything possible to do a job well done. I had my fingers crossed with <span style="font-weight:bold;">Learning Through The Arts (LTTA)</span> an organization that assists artists in the marrying of their art to the Ontario educational curriculum. This is a naturally necessary component to the variety of work that I do. <br /><br />So don’t you know I missed the session! I was a day late, having got my wires crossed in technology as this LTTA group has their own e-mail system, and information came over indicating that our sessions had been moved a day! Finding out it had been my mistake I walked back to my studio dejected, and a little angry at myself for messing up this possible good thing; I had been trying so hard to stay on top of things, taking every precaution possible not to let the grief overrun my week.... Anyway, I wrote an honest letter to the folks at LTTA, while trying not to make excuses for anything, and after offering their condolence over my loss, they let me know that there was another session that I was welcomed to attend. <span style="font-style:italic;">Great, eh! </span><br /><br />In mourning the anniversary of my mother's passing, I have come to the realization that even in the midst of grief I am capable of learning something. My mother was a great teacher of life lessons, so it seemed appropriate that I should learn to speak up for myself with the honesty and dignity that she taught me. Things with LTTA could have gone differently. I could have missed the scheduled workshops completely, and I would have been disappointed, but still I would have learned a lesson in taking chances and speaking up for myself. You would think that as an artist this is something I would be able to do with ease, since I perform and instruct for audiences, but like many artists, I have been made vulnerable by the constancy of occupational rejection. My mother knew that lessons could be learned at any time. Maybe her spirit was reminding me...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-41955426900935879362009-09-28T16:07:00.000-07:002009-09-29T15:08:31.462-07:00THOUGHTS: September Mourning #1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Sj2iG-He561QIFVHeGA8WkGQsm_ucLLb7eVfvmNL_TLsKmmZziPv14wvN8nYc57Pt5LjRlkUOx5vgTLvfjvrFOZBcA7IcN8NLB17MFo42JW5BMQeQh6e_Pm1RJLFu_X8i3fS3Uw-Sp54/s1600-h/SISTAH+singing.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 86px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Sj2iG-He561QIFVHeGA8WkGQsm_ucLLb7eVfvmNL_TLsKmmZziPv14wvN8nYc57Pt5LjRlkUOx5vgTLvfjvrFOZBcA7IcN8NLB17MFo42JW5BMQeQh6e_Pm1RJLFu_X8i3fS3Uw-Sp54/s320/SISTAH+singing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387013492523524354" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Wow, what a month!</span> So many things going on…My mother passed on this time of year and everything I do is coloured by her loss. If you work in an office you can get away with closing your door, burying your nose in your computer, and cry in the bathroom if you have to, right? Well, as an artist, my work demands that I am "on" when I work. I can't cry while I am performing, especially when I do work for the little ones, or for members of the human community that have strayed, by choice or by life, to the margins. Still, I'm no different from anyone else when it comes to family.<br /><br />In the midst of my grieving week, my brother came into town from <span style="font-style:italic;">The 'Peg</span>, bringing his partner, whom I did not have a good initial meeting as we met on the occasion of my mother passing, and let us just say that she and I had different viewpoints on social etiquette. Well, my brother walks into my studio and the hugs and kisses ensued. Feeling a little captured into this forced affection circle I accepted and even returned the hugs. Not a word was spoken of the past. Some of you can relate to my non-Brady Bunch family, can't you? Oh, yeah, I can see you nodding as you read this.<br /><br />Anyway, I go out to the breakfast with them and I share some fun, jovial communication with my brother, asking him, "how is yuh fadda?" Any one familiar with our clan wouldn’t find that it strange for me to ask him how <span style="font-style:italic;">his</span> father is doing. To my brother and I this was indeed an inside joke that had nothing to do with the current fact of our recent familial estrangement. No, our privately shared humour had to do with our life as children. Our Daddy was always away, being one of the many merchant marine-ing Dad's all over the Caribbean. When he did come home my brother would hide under my Granny's bed complaining," Why does that man always come here? Every time he does, he sleeps in mommy bed!" I recall having to tell him, "Boy, dat is yuh fadda" Hence, our inside joke.<br /><br />As my brother's earthstrong (birthday) was days away, I decided to be my authentic self, maintaining the sense of honour and dignity my mother taught me, and welcomed his choice of partner. I chose to share gifts and a card with he and his wife. The note said simply <FONT style="font-style:italic;">"Thank-you. This is heartfelt, as I still do not know you, but I do know my brother, and as long as you continue to share loving goodness with him you will always have my heart."</FONT> They returned to Winnipeg the next day. I spoke to my sibling on his birthday morning. He told me of how much my gift of time for them was appreciated but made no mention of the card...<br /><br />Only the fates know what good possibilities life has to offer. My policy these days is: leave a loving open door. I have no wish to have old stuff with the folks I claim to love cluttering up my horizons. I know I don't walk this path alone. Those of you who nodded in familiarity when you began reading this post also journey with me. And those of you who understand the complexity of family relationships are on that voyage too. I may be an artist and you a stay-at-home mom, business person, or health care specialist etc. Whatever the case may be, <FONT style="font-style:italic;">darlin' we is all human together:-)<FONT style="font-style:italic;"></FONT></FONT>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-2686683407261064042009-09-27T14:36:00.000-07:002009-09-28T14:47:22.657-07:00ART of PRAISE...Come Join Us Tuesday Nights<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTG8N95duC0eNnTy6qKakWrVzZGv2geWAoMeJv9a4eyKvoDs57eyhONwUFTQCNI-X1TpYZvtE08kefle_5Dey1DHyUpB-StRohx1Hu5MhkbQC_Deta0VSaYo5iGCFPbe2mw3GkBD1AWka/s1600-h/AOPsinging2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 179px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTG8N95duC0eNnTy6qKakWrVzZGv2geWAoMeJv9a4eyKvoDs57eyhONwUFTQCNI-X1TpYZvtE08kefle_5Dey1DHyUpB-StRohx1Hu5MhkbQC_Deta0VSaYo5iGCFPbe2mw3GkBD1AWka/s320/AOPsinging2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386638000909038738" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Art of Praise Choral Collective (AOP)</span> is undergoing a real upsurge in energy this season due mainly to one of our eldest members bringing her craft to the shared table. AOP now has a physical component that makes singing so much easier. <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Ena’s Dance Away</span></span> is a <span style="font-weight:bold;">FREE</span> (bring your own broom stick) movement to music fun time with concentration on breath control. Ena introduced our bodies to the workout with a smooth warm up into an intense dance (with guided instructions) leading to an easy cool down. We were so pumped with endorphins that our singing just soared!<br /><br />Join us at <span style="font-weight:bold;">706 College every Tuesday evening from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm</span> for a dancing-into-singing session. All music sung by AOP this season is original <span style="font-style:italic;">sistahnuvizhan</span> material. There is a one time join-up donation of $5 and weekly dues of a “Loonie & A Twoonie”. AOP is very affordable and each Tuesday probably will be the best 3 hours of your week. Drop by or send me an email if you have any questions. <br /><br />Need more Ena? If you need that “feel-good” kinda event mid-week and can’t wait for the weekend dance beats, Ena’s Dance Away is available for a small fee of $10 weekly. It is so worth it! Where else can such value be found?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-48233979116300334192009-09-13T18:55:00.000-07:002009-09-14T19:03:25.887-07:00Event: Junction Sing-Along<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPqbUszsgQ4xxU8K85bDBrMzdZVBv931_-jlo760utv04_dHeLe9tHLVoe8dcHbPQ0OC5Lb7RunfUaPnN0y4mdNQtb69xFv52-KM67lHd-ZDkjvCUg51Yc1FiX0fuWnAbLajNI8oImO3M/s1600-h/AOPpeople3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 179px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPqbUszsgQ4xxU8K85bDBrMzdZVBv931_-jlo760utv04_dHeLe9tHLVoe8dcHbPQ0OC5Lb7RunfUaPnN0y4mdNQtb69xFv52-KM67lHd-ZDkjvCUg51Yc1FiX0fuWnAbLajNI8oImO3M/s320/AOPpeople3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381508674513045570" /></a>Well, yesterday morning had me, clearing mental space for the gathering of many faithful musical souls willing to share in the Junction Arts Festival Gospel Sing-Along. First to arrive was our gifted accompanist, Fred Crossley, who immediately sat down and started to play. Fred has been spending a lot of time in Caribbean of late, so it was great to renew our musical liaison. Secret revealed, Fred is an original Art of Praise-r. He and I began the journey together in 2001, as a direct response to the "art of war" coverage we were being bombarded with on every media back then. The obvious twist on the words came out of reasoning over what we needed to hear more about. Substitute the word “war” with “praise”, and we had a title for our concept of a community choral collective: <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">The Art of Praise Choral Collective</span></span>. AOP, for short.<br /><br />The next person to arrive at the Junction Arts Festival site was sweet little sixteen-year-old lyric Soprano from down the junction alley. Following on her heels was a sixty years (plus) Alto from Scarborough. Two tenors, another Soprano, three more Altos, and when all was said and done, we ranged in age from four to seventy four: ten adults, two youth, and three kids...now that's a community of voices! Performing as <span style="font-weight:bold;">Moyo Family Peace Chorus</span>, we caused quite a stir as we walked west from Indian Grove to the Pacific street main-stage. We moved at a relaxed pace, as we are Mom's with wagons to move our children, elders with bicycles, and everything in between.<br /><br />We arrived at the main stage to find out that the first act had canceled, leaving nothing prepared for us, but we soon made quick work of getting the sound personnel on-side. We thanked them for their speedy service, as in no time at all, Fred's instruments were amplified. Soloist Amai Kuda's libation solemnly blessed the stage and invited our ancestors to join us in song, and then one by one we joined her at the microphones moving smoothly from Yoruba land to the southern US. We then traveled to the Caribbean, and on to original gospel songs penned right here in the Junction. <br /><br />As mentioned the group before us were a no-show so we figured we would have to work hard to get folks off the streets and into the sequestered stage area. No worries…as the first few notes filled the air the people flowed right in. Not a full house, mind, but a greatly vivacious gathering of folks who revel in making a joyful noise. And a joyful noise is exactly what we accomplished in the Junction as we lifted many others to free their voices, hands, legs and "tushies" in happiness for having awoken up that Saturday morning. <br /><br />We closed our shared experience with an old favourite, "<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">This Little Light Of Mine</span></span>" as our eight-year-old soloist, Haven, sang "<span style="font-style:italic;">even in my schoo-ool</span>", his pledge to let his creative light shine. That pledge is mine. It’s also the pledge of everyone else that refused to keep silent that Saturday morning.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-87556716922719785282009-09-11T08:58:00.000-07:002009-09-11T09:44:30.054-07:00Event: Join Me at the Junction Arts Festival on Sept. 12 & 13th<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix58eEH8LfeCZMxQseOHCJ-EiV952yiAGSJzkw9PmYp8Lq3TQRaD_vBxpLhZ_gPrGa1ehhyphenhyphen99ZUtUqGNyd2YI62Zt5vDsWanJhwSq4Gx8wN1JIsPyHnQ-MInvDOBPDIIKI1Nx7LiV2-wKH/s1600-h/Junction+Arts+Festival+09.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix58eEH8LfeCZMxQseOHCJ-EiV952yiAGSJzkw9PmYp8Lq3TQRaD_vBxpLhZ_gPrGa1ehhyphenhyphen99ZUtUqGNyd2YI62Zt5vDsWanJhwSq4Gx8wN1JIsPyHnQ-MInvDOBPDIIKI1Nx7LiV2-wKH/s200/Junction+Arts+Festival+09.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380246354079353906" /></a>Family Singing for the Good Feeling! This Saturday morning at 11:30 am there will be free gospel sing-a-long at the main Stage of the Junction Arts Festival. If you or your child are spontaneous in performance, please feel free to join us this coming Sat. 11 am for the Junction Arts Festival. We will meet at the main stage for a huge sing-a-long. I love every voice, so bring as many friends as you like.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBgSMcx3pFQ07DK8CwTDldpnIJrF7yIkmScp1o2eXUdc293H_HmddryUXBYGp3JRzzu6i-phqTz6X1gu46Fkkeyy8qRWcSBHZ5c_A8MOXeFA4wnpAARZOocy2JFLAyOhkoBZnR-PAfREM/s1600-h/AOPsinging.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 119px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBgSMcx3pFQ07DK8CwTDldpnIJrF7yIkmScp1o2eXUdc293H_HmddryUXBYGp3JRzzu6i-phqTz6X1gu46Fkkeyy8qRWcSBHZ5c_A8MOXeFA4wnpAARZOocy2JFLAyOhkoBZnR-PAfREM/s200/AOPsinging.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380251255241753506" /></a>My friendly bunch of singers, the <strong>Art of Praise Choral Collective</strong> (AOP), and I will be be accompanied by professional musician Fred Crossley. AOP is a <strong>non-audition</strong> choir, so join us on Saturday, and maybe you will love it so much you'll want to keep singing with us once a week. <em>No stress, no judgment, just the joy of making sounds together and feeling good.</em><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Where to Find Sistah at the Junction:</span> <a href="http://www.junctionartsfest.com/new2009test/sites/livestages/#community">Click Here</a> and scroll to the bottom of the page or check out the <a href="http://www.junctionartsfest.com/new2009test/sites/Readers%20and%20Writers/">Readers and Writers</a> section for my bio.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Festival Info:</span> <a href="http://www.junctionartsfest.com/">www.junctionartsfest.com</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-64103643860867463672009-08-30T07:37:00.000-07:002009-08-31T16:51:04.080-07:00Event...I'm Performing at the Junction Arts Festival (Sept. 9th - 13th)Hey, All! I'm back at the <a href="http://www.junctionartsfest.com/"><span style="font-weight:bold;">Junction Arts Festival</span></a> this year. Poetry, dramatic stories and songs. You know me, I can't just do one thing:) Hope you can join me. I will be performing on Saturday and Sunday*. Bring the little ones with you; they always inspire me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="color:#000000;">JUNCTION ARTS FESTIVAL SCHEDULE</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_OvbyuEEdiZpk4qoNc6vpAdhd7kOOkZzlXbVQtoNBXP8lA2lcIR-mYOF-yzkeri_wCiHn4Z14nx3Uy0h78PCj-weI0pnWt2lD4vWMieo9hOqo8JhgU0dRSsTE6Zigrh4f4Qg2MTY5aMZX/s1600-h/SISTAH+AND+COUPLE.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_OvbyuEEdiZpk4qoNc6vpAdhd7kOOkZzlXbVQtoNBXP8lA2lcIR-mYOF-yzkeri_wCiHn4Z14nx3Uy0h78PCj-weI0pnWt2lD4vWMieo9hOqo8JhgU0dRSsTE6Zigrh4f4Qg2MTY5aMZX/s200/SISTAH+AND+COUPLE.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375502337773804674" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><strong><span style="color:#000000;">SATURDAY</span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">12:30</span> Amanda Earl<br /> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Sistah Lois*</span><br /> Rob Read<br /> Jenny Sampirisi<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3:30</span> Gregory Betts/Gary Barwin<br /> Angela Carr<br /> Steven Zultanski<br /> Shannon Bramer<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">5:00</span> Marianne Apostolides<br /> Melissa Major<br /> Jay MillAr<br /> Stephen Cain<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="color:#000000;">SUNDAY</span></span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">12:00</span> Jenny Sampirisi<br /> Stephen Cain<br /> Shannon Bramer<br /> Angela Carr<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">3:00</span> Margaret Christakos<br /> Mark Truscott<br /> Jay MillAr<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">4:30</span> Adam Seelig<br /> Daniel f Bradley<br /> Rob Read<br /> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Sistah Lois*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Info:</span> <a href="http://www.junctionartsfest.com/siteindex.html">www.junctionartsfest.com</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-43200499132496824842009-08-29T07:20:00.000-07:002009-08-29T14:45:35.370-07:00Thoughts...AIDS<object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/F4lrBvAFYuY&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/F4lrBvAFYuY&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="364"></embed></object><br /><br />This video trailer highlights various issues on the topic of AIDS in Trinidad and Tobago, but I want to comment on a point of view that is shared by some in the film. My personal response is this:<br /><br />What's is still really so sad about the Caribbean is that colonization is so deeply ingrained, that the intuitive, naturally confident, spiritual response to the heat rhythm collide with taught religiosity. Some are unable to perceive the downpres...sion of the creative, via their Anglicized fear of their humanity. Sex=Taboo, so music and art, the steel drum and 'wining' must be abolished to save youth from AIDS. Are they for real?<br /><br />The complacent silence of a sexually repressed societal intellect versus nature, is the reason AIDS is on a worldwide rampage. No honest human "talkie" (dialogue). If something is still taboo, it doesn't ever get brought out in the open; therefore, trying to attack the disease of AIDS is a battle that cannot be won without open discussion and understanding of our very present human sensuality and the frailty that sometimes comes with that need for connection. So, everybody that's undervalued and affection-deprived enough to chose to sex any on offer in anyway just for the human body contact to another non-nurtured part of their own humanity as oft exist within the sensuality of contact dancing, is human..not exclusive to Caribbean folks. Do these folks indeed know themselves or the European designed version of what is a good African/West Indian?<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sources:</span></span> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZk2pzEt12g">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZk2pzEt12g</a> and <a href="http://inbluewatersfilms.com/">http://inbluewatersfilms.com/</a><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">Opinion:</span></span> My own:)<br /><blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-13264328768559233402009-08-27T17:06:00.000-07:002009-08-29T14:41:48.769-07:00Thoughts...Good-bye My Friend: R.I.P Terry Leroy LevisYesterday evening was a grand celebration for <span style="font-weight:bold;">Terry Leroy Levis</span>, a great stalwart in the anti-oppression struggle, a musician of great renown, a wonderful husband to <span style="font-weight:bold;">Bea</span>, and father to <span style="font-weight:bold;">Collen</span>, <span style="font-weight:bold;">Donna</span>, and <span style="font-weight:bold;">Kim</span>.<br /><br />Terry volunteered for many years at <span style="font-weight:bold;">CIUT 89.5 FM</span>. He hosted a program for elders (part of the <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">Caffeine Free</span></span> line up), but spoke of every conceivable issue on his show. His love of invention and mechanics were topics he and I spoke of often. I know my partner Stephen will miss their quantum mechanic jokes that often seemed private until Terry broke it down for others to be included--that was part and parcel of Terry's life mandate that we are all connected.<br /><br />Our love of classical music was something else Terry and I shared and I'm glad I got to share Handel's <span style="font-style:italic;">"Where e'er you walk"</span> (the aria from Semele) with him. Terry encouraged me to create and write my own stories, and supported me very often by attending my performances. I recall many shows and community concerts (sometimes in the weirdest, far out places), where I would look up and there would be Terry holding a up a corner. Our shared love of stories and music had brought him out. <br /><br />Terry, you will be sorely missed.<br /><blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-4551765747235616642009-08-25T16:47:00.000-07:002009-08-29T14:42:24.194-07:00Event...Flying Solo at Pedestrian Sunday in Baldwin VillageAfter last year's performance with a five piece band, back-up singers and flautist, this year I stood and nakedly faced my fears yesterday during Pedestrian Sunday in Baldwin Village. Well, not quite that naked, I had my clothing and two drumsticks! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CKVpwk_IRpN4QJhteKZcsj09pa3WlQ9hQvHLkDrf7IEGUCs6SEOgyOdQiOhREFbgEibmtIWdafmU1ig4Ru7NzLqhzRDXq1n6Vp5o4BxEJXZeEKHRX6Ysfy0UC9-t9SK99v0Weg6JaHK5/s1600-h/SISTAH+AT+RH2.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CKVpwk_IRpN4QJhteKZcsj09pa3WlQ9hQvHLkDrf7IEGUCs6SEOgyOdQiOhREFbgEibmtIWdafmU1ig4Ru7NzLqhzRDXq1n6Vp5o4BxEJXZeEKHRX6Ysfy0UC9-t9SK99v0Weg6JaHK5/s200/SISTAH+AT+RH2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374825909251694802" /></a>Why was I so worried? I had enthusiastic audience participation. The folks in the crowd clapped and sang along with me and everybody had a great time. After my performance, a woman with two youngsters in tow stopped me to say she had been about to step into the shower when her children called out <span style="font-style:italic;">"Mom, there's a woman singing at the fair. It sounds like the kinda of music you would love."</span> <br /><br />If you were in the crowd, thank you so much for participating and for sharing in the expressions of love that flowed between us all during that gathering.<br /><blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-89637940976250738322009-08-21T11:53:00.000-07:002009-08-29T14:42:50.742-07:00Event...Pedestrian Sundays Baldwin Village 2009About Pedestrian Sundays Baldwin Village 2009<br /><p>Pedestrian Sundays were imagined as a community building event centered on values of culture and ecology to celebrate diversity in Baldwin Village. Our moto is ‘streets are for people’ and we promote car free days. Our inaugural year in 2007 was a great success and involved the participation of many folks from or visiting our community. In 2008, we celebrated again and this year, look to build on past successes. <br /></p><p>The merchants and residents of Baldwin Village invite visitors to join them this summer as they once again introduce Toronto's best-kept secret to the city. Why settle for just a taste of one culture when here you can taste the world! Cuisines of Japan, China, Thailand, Korea, Mexico, France, India and cosmopolitan Toronto all located on one quaint street.<br /></p><p>We look forward to having you, your family and friends join us to celebrate the community through dance, art, performance art, music and let's not forget food!<br /></p>Location: Baldwin St. Toronto, ON<br /><br />Here is the tentative schedule as it is at this point.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Henry Stage</span><br />11:45 – 12:30 <a href="http://www.moyowaafrica.com/">Moyo wa Africa</a> (to open event up with drumming)<br /><br />1:00 – 1:45 H2Orchestra<br /><a href="http://funtain.ca/">http://funtain.ca/</a><br /><br />2:00 – 2:30 Tai Chi (University Settlement)<br /><br />2:30 – 3:15 <a href="http://www.annietung.com/">Annie Si-Wing Tung</a><br /><br />4:00 – 4:45 <a href="http://www.myspace.com/hotcha7">Hotcha!</a><br /> <br />5:30 – 6:15 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XupaCno0V0&feature=related">Janet Panic</a><br /> <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">McCaul Stage</span><br />1:45 – 2:30 <a href="http://www.myspace.com/tanyaphilipovich">Tanya Philipovich</a><br /><br />3:15 – 4:00 <a href="http://www.facebook.com/Michael.Louis.Johnson">Michael Louis Johnson</a><br /><br />4:45 – 5:30 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoj38qxCLiI">Gary Bluestone</a><br /><br />6:15 – 7:00 <span style="font-weight:bold;">Sistah Lois</span><br /><br />8:30 - 10:00 Little Video Shop Movie<br /><blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3521348870206191640.post-44069464445515636822009-07-30T12:37:00.000-07:002009-08-29T14:43:24.050-07:00Joys...Give Thanks and Praise for Being Selected by the Writers' Union of Canada<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtKDpomD3CwU0H5NCsn0A5P935m6jPkdTRXx4j-kCZj5tMDeoFrFzA8ozZXdWb0T6zp6T85-HndgT-QhQ041v-c4YxO-nDkng6o-uyw9kllDWtEhU0EkqzaplZ4ByeXxQg7G7IXDJ3ZDK/s1600-h/SISTAH+AT+HFC+2.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtKDpomD3CwU0H5NCsn0A5P935m6jPkdTRXx4j-kCZj5tMDeoFrFzA8ozZXdWb0T6zp6T85-HndgT-QhQ041v-c4YxO-nDkng6o-uyw9kllDWtEhU0EkqzaplZ4ByeXxQg7G7IXDJ3ZDK/s200/SISTAH+AT+HFC+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374822456596144898" /></a>I was very excited an honoured to be selected as a finalist by the Writers' Union of Canada for my piece <span style="font-style:italic;">Troy’s Autumn into Winter Windsong</span>. The piece is based on a conversation I had with my son Troy when he was seven years old, and one that I have shared with his children. Congratulations to the winner, <span style="font-weight:bold;">Alison Hughes</span> and to my fellow finalists. Writing is HARD WORK!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Press Release</span><br />"THE LATE SHOW" WINS WRITERS' UNION OF CANADA'S THIRTEENTH ANNUAL WRITING FOR CHILDREN COMPETITION<br />The Writers' Union of Canada is pleased to announce that Alison Hughes has won the thirteenth annual Writing for Children Competition, for the best story under 1,500 words, with her piece "The Late Show." The author will receive a $1,500 cash prize. In addition, the Union will submit the winning story and the other eleven finalists’ stories to four Canadian publishers of children’s literature for their consideration. <br /><br />The Union initiated the Writing for Children competition to discover, encourage, and promote new writers of children’s literature. This year, twenty-four Union members donated their time and expertise to read over 800 outstanding submissions and distill them into a longlist of 115 stories. These stories went on to a second round of eighteen readers who selected the finalists to pass on to the 2009 jury: Norma Charles, Kathy-Diane Leveille, and Eric Walters.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">WINNER:</span><br />"The Late Show” by Alison Hughes<br />The jury praised the story for having “an authentic narrative, capturing a vivid sense of time and place in a teenager's life,” and commended the “wonderful use of language and unusual images, perfect for this age level.” They also noted that it “authentically and visually portrays a brief scene – a still life played out before us as we sit in the shadows and watch.”<br /><br />Alison Hughes lives in Edmonton after spending many years away in Ontario, Quebec, England, and Australia. She was awarded the gold medal in Arts for her degree in English literature, and various scholarships for her graduate degrees in law. Hughes began creative writing while staying at home with her three children. She now writes full-time, and has published magazine and newspaper articles, humour, and poetry. Her current project is a young adult novel.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">FINALISTS</span><br />All the Comforts of Home, Nancy Miller<br />A Bicycle Story, Gabriel Shpilt<br />Blowing Bubbles, Kathleen Cherry<br />A Can of Beans, Allan Royal<br />Dear Terry, Ron Fromstein<br />Glycol Disappears, Joyce Kline<br />Mountain Song, Katherine Fawcett<br />Press Four for Francis, Catherine MacIntosh<br />Spaghetti Boo, Elizabeth Laswick<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Troy’s Autumn into Winter Windsong, Sistahlois Jacob</span><br />Whiz Kid, Chad Lucas<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">READERS FOR THE COMPETITION</span><br />Meredith Andrew, Cheryl Antao-Xavier, Ray Argyle, Ann Birch, Lanny Boutin, Jill Bryant, Sean Cassidy, Jane Chartrand, Ray Conlogue, Olga M. Dey-Bergmoser, Marion Douglas, Ramabai Espinet, P.M. Foss, Kevin Marc Fournier, Lian Goodall, Crystal Hope Hurdle, Hazel J. Hutchins, John Jansen in de Wal, Monica Kulling, Anne Logan, Catherine Macleod, Anna Jean Mallinson, Mar'ce Merrell, Rich Meyrick, Stephen Miller, Susin Nielsen, Gail Nyoka, Caroline B. Parry, Sheila Pennington, Raquel Rivera, Gina Roitman, J.L. Scharf, Rene Schmidt, Ellen Schwartz, Gisela Sherman, Margie Taylor, Chieri Uegaki, Nancy Warren, Bryna Wasserman, Joyce LaVerne White, Marg Wilson, Linda Zeman-Spaleny.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">FINAL JURY</span><br />Norma Charles, Kathy-Diane Leveille, and Eric Walters.<br />The Writers' Union of Canada is our country's national organization representing professional authors of books. Founded in 1973, the Union is dedicated to fostering writing in Canada, and promoting the rights, freedoms, and economic well being of all writers. For more information, please visit <a href="http://www.writersunion.ca/index.asp">www.writersunion.ca</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Source:</span> Nancy MacLeod, Competitions Coordinator, The Writers’ Union of Canada<br /><blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0