parenting – As Far As The Eye Can See

Methods

While in Toronto a few weeks ago I had a chance for some writing time and I was inspired by learning that the International Women’s Day theme for this year was “Empower, Inspire and Elevate.” That got me thinking about my Dad. I wrote a lot. I forgot about it once life at home got rolling until last night when we were with friends, the conversation reminded me I had this almost finished blog waiting for some attention. Here goes……

When I was about 7 my family had the chance to buy some untouched lakefront property. It was140 miles from our house and available for $500. That land changed our families life. We worked together and with friends to clear, shape and build that acre and make for ourself a summer haven. Roads and power became available over time. 99% of my summer memories happened there. When we were teenagers my Dad started something. I don’t know where he got the idea. He was an educator so maybe he just thought like this. However, it seems to me he assessed that he had two issues in front of him. The first is that at the end of the day our waterfront needed to be secure for whatever a night on a big lake might bring. He also had his youngest three daughters around all the time and he had hopes for us. So he created a “position” with a title, and the three of us took turns assuming the role. My memory is that for some days at a time one of us was designated, “water front supervisor.” It was our duty to ensure that as night fell all was well at the lake front, that the canoe was far enough removed from the waters edge, that the boat was up on the trailer. The waterfront supervisor made sure the skis and lifejackets were properly put away, that there were no towels or clothing waiting to be caught by a wind or wave. The supervisor position did not mean that we had to do it all, but we had to enlist help if things needed to be done and ensure that all was ship shape for the night. This role encouraged responsibility and skills in assessment, delegating and leadership. There was a subtle pride in being entrusted with a role that held an important title. We all lived up to it. As an adult I look back at this and think, “my Dad was empowering me.”

I often have thought about a strategy my Dad had when I was much younger. He taught us that if someone was bugging us and wouldn’t stop we should tell them “my Daddy says, if I say quit it, I mean QUIT IT.” As an adult looking back on this line that my Dad taught me I feel mixed. Ideally, as a girl child I would not have had to pull my Dad’s presence into the exchange to get a little respect. However, my Dad knew things about the world that we did not. I often think that maybe our Dad was trying to protect us when he couldn’t be near every second. We could invoke his name but in a way that gave authority to “when I say….I mean….” I think it worked. He taught me that my voice mattered.

Recently I was helping one of my people get cardiac testing done. At the hospital I met a nurse who knew my Dad back in his educator days. She told me that Dad played a role in her life when in her high school years she found herself pregnant. The mores of the time meant she was encouraged to drop out and have her baby. There was a meeting about this. My Dad was present. She gave me a sense that at this meeting it was my Dad’s words that helped turned the tide towards her being able to stay in school, go on to win scholar awards and become a specialized nurse. She remembers Dad saying this, “I have daughters her age and I believe she can do this.” My Dad, a white man, standing a handsome 6ft 6inches tall, with a title that included the word “superintendent”, held a lot of authority at that meeting. He used it to add power to that young woman.

That reminds me of another “I believe” moment with him. When I was in grade six I carried extra weight that was of concern to our doctor. He advised that my sister and I go see a dietician. We were a bit chubby but really mostly healthy. I remember I weighed 127 pounds. One terrible day, after a weigh in at the dietician I was found to have gained more than 4 pounds. My Dad found me in the garage crying when he got home from work. I remember the shame I I was drowning in as I pondered the peanut butter and butter in soda cracker sandwiches I had been over indulging in. That night at supper I am not sure how it came up but Dad proclaimed at the table, “I believe that Kathy is going to get this under control.” Maybe my red tear stained face was being acknowledged. I don’t know. I often wonder how Dad’s words have played into my ability to keep things within a certain range. Its been tricky. For whatever role Dad’s “I believe……” statement of confidence played I am very grateful.

I am noticing through all these anecdotes the role to be played by those who have power. The willingness to share power shows itself in different ways. Helping others to see what they are capable of is one thing. Picture an evening at the cabin and Dad saying, “who is water front supervisor tonight?” Thirteen year old Kathy replies, “I am Dad.”

Putting powerful words into each others vocabulary is another, such as “when I say quit it, I mean quit it!”

Taking public stances advocating for people to be given a chance, to prove themselves, is another way of lending our power (I notice now that when Dad gave that teenage girl his vote of confidence, the way he did it, he gave us girls a compliment too. He essentially said, “I have seen what girls this age are capable of.” )

People with power have opportunity to address shame, such a debilitating force that can be put in its place. I received that gift when my Dad didn’t say the following words but essentially said this, “Kathy loves peanut butter on crackers and don’t we all go crazy for stuff at times, pffft, that’s just one part of her story, she is so much more than that.”

My Dad was far far far from perfect. He was really a jerk at times, so am I. However he had some core wisdom that he lived from. He saw people where they were at and he used his power to build power in others (not perfectly or always consistently but it was his instinct to empower. He was better for it. It did not cost him. The world was better for it. And the world continues to be. I am thinking especially of my three sisters when I say this. They are using the power they have been vested with, from our childhood, their work and study. They are empowering children and adults in so many important ways. They each shine very bright and my Dad would be so delighted to watch it unfold.

I wonder if my Mom took this picture, if so, it subtly includes four generations of women gathered at our family table. I am in the suspenders. My great grandma, sitting in Mom’s usual chair, was born in 1893, there is alot of herstory in this picture.

My Dad at his spot at the table, here is where he sat when he delivered his message to me.

Dad with gloves on, likely working to tame the waterfront. We kept our boat trailer in the water and cranked the boat up every night after finding our boat a long ways from home one morning after a major overnight storm. Dad had naturally curly hair but not this curly. He had a perm here, something he did for his role in Summer Players musical “Oliver.”

Dad and I at my graduation from Queen’s Theological College in 1996. A proud moment. Dad had been diagnosed with frontal lobe brain disease, a form of dementia a few months before this.

With the lake behind us an impromptu family picture in about 1984. Everyday moments made for an empowering childhood. There is so much to be thankful about.

Waskesui

I am sitting in the dining room at Hawood Inn in Waskesui.

I came here with Russ. He has been in meetings for two days at Elkridge Resort, they are discussing climate solutions for ranching and farming. I am working on the book we are creating about ranching. I am done the bulk of the writing and now need to work to select and place the best pictures. I came to the Waskesui townsite because we are now checked out of our room and I wanted to come back here to reminisce. Almost 15 years ago I traveled here with three little kids to meet my extended family for a reunion. I hold so much love for those people in my heart. It is comforting and a bit sad to be back here without them, our elders are passing and much has changed. Waskesui remains beautiful and on this sunny but cold winter day it is quiet and rather soul stirring.

Perhaps that is the reason that as I perused our most recent photo shoot from Liz, looking for the pictures that fit best with what I am saying, the picture below stopped me in my tracks.

I am pondering a point I made in my writing. I have a section in the book to explore whats it like to be me, a ranch wife. One of the realities is that this ranch life has created quite a distance between me and the people and spaces of my original hometown, Saskatoon. In the book I readily point out that Russ has acted to lessen the hardness of that. How has he done it? This picture stopped me. The tall guy wearing the slicker, looking like a pretty seasoned cowboy is in fact a grade 8 teacher in Saskatoon. He is my cousins husband. After almost 30 years of knowing Jimmy I just think of him as my cousin. Russ has always been so welcoming of my family and has weathered the challenges of having rookies on the trail, to give them an experience and help them feel welcome at our place. I sometimes take that for granted because it has always been the case, but its really awesome to feel that any of our people can come, and they do.

The other thing about this picture that just about takes my breath away is the two layers of action in it that Gina and Morgan are responsible for. Gina, our oldest daughter, visiting from Toronto at the time of this picture, is helping Jimmy to get tacked up for the ride ahead. The smile you can glimpse tells me how comfortable she is, happy to have Jimmy there and so willing to prep horses for others. Morgan several feet behind her is almost ear to ear with his horse Padre and so very capably bridling him. The last time I was in Waskesui I was attempting to parent two year old Morgan, five year old Jill, and 7 year old Gina. They were terribly cute and endearing, but I had to leave Russ at home haying and I am terrible about asking for help. So I remember the juggling of being here in Waskesui and doing what it took to keep us all on track while soaking up the reunion time as much as possible. Now here I sit, sipping coffee, Morgan is holding down our work at home, and his own, Gina is living a big life, on her own merit, in Toronto and Jill just sent me the goofiest video from her responsibilities at Starbucks in Regina. She is deep into rehearsals for the current musical she is in. I feel like I am bragging to put all this into print, but maybe its okay to say what a friggin relief it is to see your kids get to this point. Maybe its okay to say that raising kids is so incredibly frazzling but in the most rewarding and endearing way I have known. Maybe its okay to confess that seeing your kids being capable and helping others is a source of deep pride. Maybe a stew of all that is what was swirling when I stopped on that candid picture. It was a second in time, it looked like just another cowboy moment but I guess for me, sitting on the shores of Waskesui lake, it marks a milestone in parenting.

There are a couple more pictures that help round out the points.

This picture is one of my favorites because right in the center of it is one of my favorite dogs ever, looking directly at Liz’s camera. For the purposes of the blog this image illustrates something, my niece Brodie and her friend Clare are in this picture. They are darn good help. Brodie started riding many years ago as a visitor at the ranch and we have enjoyed having Clare for two seasons of cow chasing now. Russ is really good at giving people a chance to learn.

Here is Jimmy, now safely seated in his saddle, he is with our new friend Steve. The slicker he is wearing was bought in June, embroidered with our brand by Lynn, it is Russell’s but Jimmy did it justice for its first appearance on the Bar MW trail. He looks so natural. I like imagining what the students in his city classroom would think to see their teacher as a working cowboy.

The day captured by Liz in these pictures was a very good day. My kids were all home and all on a horse and some of my Saskatoon people were near. With the help of my local friend Sandy I was able to get this large crew fed. The picture was pretty complete.

Anecdotes

Last week Russell and I went to Regina to accomplish a few different things. A main hope was to find a possible piece of equipment for our haying work. As it turned out we are looking for a very rare thing and of the four dealerships we visited only two even took our contact information down. It was a little bit of a downer.

A little something happened enroute that I find myself mulling over and not sure of the significance of. We stopped on the side of the highway before we got to Regina. This is common for us, we often switch drivers at this point as I am the city driver of our duo, Russ does most of the highway miles. As we went around the back of the car to switch sides I initiated a hug with Russell. From an outside perspective I find this a bit weird of me. I grew up in a family with a warm environment but still we mostly only hugged at the airport or other places where significant hellos or good-byes were said. However, I find alot of comfort in Russell’s embrace, so as we physically drew near to each other rounding the back end of the car it seemed a quite natural thing to do. As we hugged, me facing the highway and he facing the ditch, my chin on his shoulder and his chin on mine, we both spoke at the same time. He said, “I can see a fire way over there.” while I was saying, “huh, someone is land-rolling over there.” We got back in the car, feeling amused that even as we were engaged in a hug, we were both scanning the landscape. Russ had this theory about our words, that people of the land are always surveying their surroundings. There are surely several reasons for this but I know one big why. I am thinking about the many stories where the alertness of neighbors has meant that we, our land, our buildings, our animals and our machinery have received what was needed when we have needed it. Sometimes its our eyes that help our neighbors. Just yesterday Russ and Morgan were joined by a neighbor coming down the road and together they put another neighbor’s wandering cows back in their pasture. Scanning your surroundings is part of being a good neighbor, an acknowledgement that we don’t have enough eyes to monitor all that we are responsible for, our neighbors eyes are important in the mix. We have so many good neighbor stories, it is a big part of what makes being a steward of land and creatures possible.

Another amusing thing of that day happened when we dropped into the mall to make a return for a friend. We were in a woman’s clothing store that had some sales on. Russell said, “Kathy, why don’t you try something on.” I have not been feeling myself for quite a while and at times like that I think maybe its not much fun to try on clothes or even to know what to look for. I am in a bit of an identity shift perhaps, in times like that, what clothes do you need? I find I still want to dress like I did in the late 90s. I had a good collection of vests. Anyways….I found myself responding to Russell’s invitation to shop longer and try things on by saying this, “nah, no need for new clothes, lets go tractor shopping.” It was not lost on me that I was speaking words that I never expected myself to utter and I do feel that I let the sisterhood of farm wives down. I really was not that thrilled about implement shopping (we are looking for a self propelled haybine not a tractor, but it was the word tractor that fell out of my mouth in that moment.) I think I just had no space in my brain for clothes shopping. Its fun to take note of the times that words fall out of us that we never expected to be the source of.

Part of our time in Regina included a trip to Starbucks to see Jill at work. As we came up to the till Russ told the clerk that he wanted a black coffee and a hug from that girl over there. The cashier looked taken aback, which was partly Russell’s goal I am certain. I piped in, “thats our daughter!” You could see relief come over the clerk’s face. We proceeded to enjoy moments of back and forth with the cashier and Jill. When we sat down to enjoy our drinks a woman sitting near us said, “is that your daughter?” When we affirmed that yes it sure was, she said, “she’s good.” It meant alot to us to hear that. Jill later told us that she is a regular, I guess that means she knows what she is talking about. A parent’s heart is bolstered at times like that.

Last Thursday we did something really interesting, a little bit challenging and quite rewarding when we exchanged favors with ranch family friends of ours. Our part of the exchange was to bring lunch to their branding. There were 35 mouths to feed. Russell was my catering assistant. Morgan was on the roping team for the branding. I have never attended a branding before, we do things differently at our ranch. It was interesting to see how the large scale action unfolds. It was rewarding to feed a very polite and thankful crew and see in the eyes of our friends deep gratitude for what we were able to do for them. The fun part that we keep talking about was that I made a slapdash broccoli salad in the last minutes of my preparations. I threw together the ingredients and with no sense that I had created anything special we headed out the door. It was a hit. Sitting around afterwards people were talking about it. Zany things were said, perhaps not just right for this blog post, but we are still smiling about them.

One last anecdote to round out this post. Morgan has been burning the candle at both ends lately. He has been schooling, ranching and getting a few fun nights with friends in as well as being a cowboy every chance he gets. He has become quite exhausted and I feel bad about it. Recently I found him flaked out on our bed, sleeping so soundly that I could not rouse him. So I did what any woman would do who misses their little kids. I washed his face and read him two children’s books. By the end of the second book he did respond to the ridiculous duck on a bike with a pretty teenager-y expression, but otherwise, I read uninterrupted. It felt good.

Thats all. Just a few little nuggets from the days we have known.

Russ surveying the one self propelled mower we saw in Regina, it was already sold.

Jill hard at work, her startled co-worker in the background (by this point not startled anymore!)

Two of my favorite children’s books, kept on a shelf upstairs for the moment they are needed.

Hello Wednesday

I am continuing on my weeklong writing experiment. The title of the blog has little to do with the contents, its just a way of organizing this week’s posts.

I made a supper last night that turned out really well. Its best by request right now. We are preparing to have Gina leave for Toronto later this week and I am cooking up some of her favorites. At the end of the meal, out of the blue, Russell brought me a glass of red wine. I am not sure what to say to explain the timing of that delivery, not sure what was in his head, however I received it and thought, “hmmm, I guess this will be my dessert.” The thing is that I usually eat things I love in pairs. Toast and coffee. Cookies and coffee. Chips and beer or Cheezies and Bubly water. Wine…..what pairs with it for dessert? Cheese maybe, but there was a loaf of bread on the table and I decided to have a piece of buttered bread with my glass of wine.

After presiding at the sacrament of communion so many times in my life I was not able to experience this combo of bread and wine without doing exactly what the communion story invites us to do. When Jesus communed with his disciples with bread and wine in hand he told them that as often as they break bread and drink wine together they should remember him. With that in mind I posed a question at the table. “What do you remember about Jesus?” Russell was the first and only to answer because his answer took us in a new direction. He said, “I remember him in a nightclub.” This was such a meaningful answer. I had seen a post that my friend made earlier in the day, I had a heartfelt reaction to it, I immediately shared it with Jill. Gina saw the same poem shared elsewhere and put it in our family Whatsapp chat. It was a poem posted in response to the mass shooting in an LGBTQ nightclub in Colorado Springs on the weekend. Russell was offering his experience of that poem as the answer to my question.

Here is the poem.

In the spring of ’21 Jill had something to share with us. It was that she is bisexual. She gave me permission to name that here. She also gave me permission to share a few pictures.

Jill created this cake for dessert that night in April of 21. We discovered the very inside was a bit hollowed out and was filled with home-made sprinkles and a note.

We were photographing this moment because something was up. Despite the colors in the cake I had no clue what was coming. In fact, this is a momentous time we captured.

This was the note, with a bi-sexual character from one of our favorite shows (Brooklyn ’99) as illustration.

I think these images illumine the incredible vulnerability of a person coming out. It helps to illumine why we value poems like the one shared here and in our family chat. That poem speaks of things I want my children to know. It creates an image I want my kids to have in their head. It’s an image I need to have in my head as I consider my child encountering a world where she will at times be rejected and at times risk violence against herself just for being who she is.

“Remember me” he said at the table. I will, with gratitude. It turns out that a glass of red wine was a fine dessert and it was good for my heart.

A 20 YEAR STORY

There are some landmark days going on in our lives. Among them is that Gina is turning 20 soon. The echo of that fact in terms of my own story is that I am coming up on the 20th anniversary of being a hands on Mom. This anniversary and all that the last month has held means my heart is full and my brain is churning.

20 years is a big marker. I am thinking quite a bit about what was happening 20 years ago at this time. I was more than 8 months pregnant. I was a different person. When I say that I am just trying to put into words that I had no idea what was about to unfold. I couldn’t imagine what labor would be like, we didn’t know the sex of our child, I didn’t know how to use diapers, soothe gas pains or get stains out of laundry. I had no idea if I would become a good mother and how Russell and I would do together. It was a place of great unknowns and looking back I think it took alot of courage.

This is us the morning we left the manse in Gainborough to head to Estevan hospital. I was 13 days overdue, labor was induced later this day. Gina was born at 2:19 the next morning.

In March Russell and I were in Victoria to attend a show at Gina’s school. We saw a walking tour of Victoria advertised that included photos at iconic spots. We signed up and asked Gina to join us. We got some very excellent pictures out of it. The similiarity between the 2002 picture above and the 2022 picture is striking. Russ, Gina and I all in the same places, Gina squashed in both, clothing colors almost the same.

This more dignified pose is a good one too. Notice the boots Gina is wearing. They will make an appearance again in this post.

For sheer cuteness I am popping this picture in. We could play a game like Uno or Crazy 8s at this point. What color, or number or suit connects the pictures? White shirts and jean/hat choices match this picture to the last ones. We don’t always wear white shirts it just seems like it for the moment.

I have been thinking alot about something, even right in the middle of recent performances of Shrek, I found myself thinking, “what led this girl to this place with these abilities?” I am really excited and happy to think about the place that Gina has found herself in. I want to write about it on the blog because quite simply its a big part of our story right now and I process things by “talking”, and sometimes I repeat myself, sorry if you are done with this topic before I am. The thing is maybe there is a universal question at play here. Looking at who we are, or who our kids are, or the dynamics of life that we find ourselves in we can ask the question “how did this come to be?” In our families case, what is it that brings a girl from a small town of 1100 people to a very real comfort level with city life and the confidence to step out on a stage and share what she’s got?

I can tell you what it wasn’t. It wasn’t Russell or I pushing her down this path. Just the opposite. Gina often asks me, “Mom how did you not catch on that I was going to love this stuff?” I just didn’t. It didn’t cross my mind that I had a musical theatre loving kid in the making. Ideally pictures like the one below might have tweaked my head in that direction, but that didn’t happen.

It also wasn’t a result of rich arts opportunities. We were mostly always on a tight budget and our life unfolded 8 miles from the small town in this picture.

So what happened to bring her to this point?

Maybe very partly this……

One of the things I observed sitting in the audience at Shrek was that Gina had the ability to use her speaking voice to communicate a wide range of feelings and meanings. She went from the feisty red head we know well, to a tone of tenderness and caring very quickly and very effectively. She had mastery of her voice and its impact. So here is what I was thinking about sitting there…….besides the training at CCPA, is this partly about reading books together for years and years? My method was a bit unusual. I got bored reading the same children’s books over and over again. There was variety in our library of course, but you know how kids like certain books and ask for them repeatedly? The kissing Elmo goodnight book just about did me in. So….to keep myself interested I just started experimenting with my voice, it was like I was asking myself “how can I phrase these words or sentences, how can I change volumes, how can I change tones so that different meanings or feelings come across?” It was actually kind’ve fascinating for me, good research for the public speaking that I do. Gina was exposed to all these shenanigans from a very young age. So I found myself sitting in the theatre wondering…..is this a reflection of book time? Maybe. Likely in some way.

And maybe this……

Gina started piano lessons in grade 2. She was not a natural but through the “Music for Young Children” program and the attention of her teachers Kari and Sharlene, she achieved a solid base of music theory and the beginning of performance skills. As dance took on a bigger role in Gina’s life piano receded however Gina recently told me how mindful she is of the theory she learned in those early days.

Then there is this…..Gina says she was in grade four when she started watching “Glee” the TV show. She credits this show (which I have to say was a little edgy for her to be watching, parental misstep there…) as the thing that really woke up her desire to take music and performance farther in her life.

And then there was this……

Gina joined the cadet program when she was in grade 7. This called her to stretch herself. Her first weekend camp was terribly uncomfortable for her, only because she liked home. The teamwork, discipline and endurance which are now part of her reputation were deeply nurtured at cadets. The part she talks about though is her “cadet voice”. She had a little bit of experience being parade leader at the point she decided to quit cadets (she was discerning that she just wanted to get dancing). Those parade experiences made their mark.

Here she is center stage in “Shrek”, at one point she gets all these dancing rats in order by calling out “ten-hut”, she asked me after, “Mom! did you hear my cadet voice?” Yes Gina, it was definitely there!

A breakthrough happened when Melita (a Manitoba town 80km from us) started a youth drama day camp. Gina attended for three summers. In this picture she had the role of Miss Hannigan in “Annie.”

Gina has always had fans. Family and friends have been great. Support and encouragement must play some part in the recipe for growth and success. Gina’s biggest fan was her Nana. Russ and I strive to live up to her example.

The obvious deciding factor in Gina’s journey was the opening of a dance school, 16 minutes from our driveway, when Gina was almost finished grade 9. Stephanie her teacher gave her a foundation in all forms of dance, a complete and total opportunity! This is proof positive of the difference one person can make in the life of another, simply by sharing our gifts. Gina was later asked to join the teaching team. I am certain this helped Gina root her own skills.

After grade 10 Gina did something she had never done with any joy before. She went to a residential camp. She studied dance at the International Music Camp. She loved it.

Gina also had the benefit of singing lessons for one year in grade 11 and performed in our local music festival. Her passions and skill were getting kindled. The screenshot below is from Facebook. I included it because the captions for both pictures highlight the fans and are a bit funny.

When Gina was in grade 7 or so our local school started offering an annual one week intensive drama experience facilitated by Missoula Children’s Theater. She was in grade 11 and was Captain Hook in this picture. Looks like some “stage combat” could break out at any time!

The two pictures below were taken by Liz Griffin. Here are Gina’s boots in their natural habitat. We believe the close-up work with our herd, with the courage and conviction it requires, something that was a part of Gina’s life for so many years, is connected to Gina’s presence on stage.

A helpful part off Gina’s unfolding story is that it finally dawned on me how important all this was to Gina. It happened at the Carol Burnett show at the start of grade 11.

The picture above is Gina standing up in the Centre of the Arts in Regina. In this picture she was talking to Carol Burnett. She had sat through 30+ minutes of the show with her hand up waiting for Carol to see her and take her question (it was the format of much of the show, akin to her TV show). When an usher pointed Gina out, (the shadows meant she was not easy for Carol to see) Carol received her question. They had both played Miss Hannigan in Annie and they sang a chorus of “Little Girls” together. After witnessing that hand up for that long I finally caught on…..my girl means business about this business.

Yes she meant business! After two years of hard work and persistence, through milking the opportunity for all it was worth, Gina graduated from the Canadian College of Performing Arts on May 15th. There she is on the left, graduating in her cowboy boots. Russell and I feel so moved by these moments.

There are 3 very significant parts of this picture. Most obviously, Gina had just been presented with “The Founders Award for Musical Theatre” it recognized outstanding achievement in musical theatre. Gina says that after two years of questioning whether she belonged at CCPA, based on her limited experiences, the award has helped her know she did and does belong in the arts community. That’s major. The presenter is the founder of the college and happens to be Gina’s mentor, Jacques Lemay. He is the instructor who brought to life Gina’s love for stage combat. That is another big piece of this picture. And finally, Jacques is known in our family, through Gina’s stories, as a wise and kind gentleman. We all value that very much.

I am closing this blog with this picture on purpose. All these students are from Saskatchewan, except for one from rural Alberta. This group comprises most of the lead role actors from Shrek. (Shrek and his understudy (who did 3 of the shows as Shrek), Fiona, Donkey, and Dragon are all here. Saskatchewan sent students to CCPA they can be very proud of. This makes me think, while we perceive that not much happens in smaller places, in truth, looking at the big picture, anything is possible. When the schools, community organizations, music teachers, dance instructors, families and fans each do what they can, soil is made rich for dreams to sprout and grow. The lesson I am taking away from creating this blog is that all the pieces, even pieces that may seem small, they all add up. So it’s important to do the bits we are called and gifted to do, to nurture the soil of our shared lives, to keep possibilities possible for others.

Gina, thanks for listening to what was stirring within. Thanks for these first 20 years.

The Color Orange

Yesterday was a big day for many reasons. Our family observed Truth and Reconciliation Day in a way that was pretty special for us. It was also month end which meant farm business, music festival board business for me and a time to tally the stats for the Broken Bread Bakery. I have a series of captioned pictures to tell the tale.

Jill found this butterfly on the highway during the walk we took part in yesterday. It seems a good way to start this blog off. To me butterflies can symbolize transformation and they are so beautiful.

The last report from the Broken Bread Bakery was at the end of July since then I have pretty much met my goal of baking and sharing one batch of buns per week, on average.

This was a terrific day of baking, two batches in one afternoon happened when my neighbor Sheila came over. Baking bees like this will continue until I have seen to the baking of one bun for every child who died at residential school, some treated as entirely forgettable. This is a long term project. In August and September I was able to bake and share 362 buns. I had a couple of huge orders, 12 dozen for a trailride and six dozen to one individual. The flurry of baking for those allowed some weeks off from baking at other times.

The joy of working together at the counter was literally enriched by the generosity of folks who received the buns. The donations given for the healing fund in July and August totaled $375. This figure is lower than it might be because I donated 4.5 dozen buns to a bake sale. I counted those towards the remembering of children because honestly, with thousands of buns to make I need to stay focused on this unfolding memorial instead of for example baking cookies for the bake sale. I was mindful of those children as I baked. I tagged the buns as being from the Broken Bread Bakery and I said a little bit about the project. The entire project total so far is 644 buns baked and $1,020 raised for the Healing Fund of the United Church of Canada.

While in St. John’s we took in an afternoon at an amazing museum. There was a good display about residential schools within the museum. The thing that has struck me lately is how this school system impacted the parents and the grandparents. Children removed from ones life and all the everyday joys gone, in moments. It got me thinking about how much I loved bedtime routine with our kids with the book reading we shared. It was routine, the books well worn, one might say it was boring really and it was time consuming. But it was special and warm and good and essential. How would we have coped if all our routines had been taken from us?

It bothered me to read that a ship that shares my last name was used to transport children away to school.

I have this picture of a notebook Jill was creating in the summer, preparing for back to school. I looked at it and I said, “Jilly, even nature proclaims that every child matters.” I found the Liz Griffin pictures that she used, and a couple different ones, they are here with my interpretation of the parent child dynamic at play. The brown surroundings reflect the time of year, it was just before the spring burst of color. The cows look rough. They had just weathered winter and been thru the birthing time and they definitely needed a bit of time to reemerge in their beauty.

“I am your Mama and I need to wash your face.”

“We are together and so the world is at peace.”

“I WILL protect you. I will not let them near you.”

“Your aunties and I, we got you, stay near.” (This was a pen with three Moms who had birthed twins and were each successfully raising both calves.)

“My sense of smell is going to keep you well, just don’t you worry.”

All of the things percolating in us that you read above made it important for us to be a part of the walk that was hosted by Alameda United Church yesterday. A walk for truth and reconciliation. It was about a 4 mile journey up and down highway 9. Maybe people say, “why is that important, why are you slowing down traffic?” Maybe because nothing changes until it is seen for what it is. Maybe its okay to have to slow down and think, for us walkers and for the drivers too. Maybe that creates openings for the Spirit to be at work. Having said that I am tired and a bit overwhelmed by everything in the world. I was thinking about it later….the repetition of shaping buns and putting one step in front of the other is what I am capable of right now. I don’t have space in my head for deep learning. I will trust that God will take my steps and my buns and work with them.

It was awesome to have support from some folks driving by, like this flag bearing truck. The best were the semi truck drivers that blew their airhorns. We walked with friends on a beautiful fall day and perhaps made more concrete for ourselves who we want to be as individuals and as a family.

My friend ordered this flag and Russ and I took a turn walking with it for a while. That created a good chance for a picture but carrying my friends survivor sign for a while to give her a break, and bearing this flag both felt like sacred responsibilities.

The color orange is being transformed in our culture. In my world it was once the color I associated with halloween. Then as I got to know some bikers it became the color of Harley Davidson, then as we built our house it became a color of energy and we chose it for our kitchen. Now it is a color that speaks of honoring. Honoring and not silencing. Honoring and not shaming. Honoring through listening. Honoring difference and uniqueness. Honoring another even if it costs me a bit. It means living out what we say when we say that every child matters. It was the color of halloween, and I see maybe like a butterfly, the color orange is being transformed, can it become a color that when seen quickens the heart, sending out a signal that ingredients for hope and healing are not far away. May it be so.

Not a Dance Mom

On this Mother’s Day weekend things are unusual. Gina is away at school, Jill is in quarantine and its my first Mother’s Day without my Mom. I don’t have my girls. At this point, I am doing okay. In the space this opens up I have a chance to ponder and share some stuff about Gina. She is the human who made me into a mother. She is currently spending hours and hours every day dancing, learning the craft of acting and developing her singing talents. She is having a great experience at the Canadian College of Performing Arts.

What you may or may not know about Gina, is that she never had a single dance lesson until she was in grade 9. The summer before grade 9 she started talking about wanting to study dance. We wanted to support her interest but wondered how you start such a disciplined area of learning at that late age. She would never fit in with her peers. We found our way to a half hour weekly class in Estevan at Drewitz School of Dance, there she studied Musical Theatre. I can pretty vividly remember the day we went to registration, I felt completely and totally disoriented and maybe a little foolish, who did we think we were coming there green to all things dance?!? We were very kindly received by the owner of the school and Gina was encouraged, it felt good. I also remember holding my breath that day as our payment card was processed for the purchase of shoes Gina needed. We were never very flush with cash, but back to school time was the worst. This really was a big deal to commit to. The card went through. And we were off…….

Gina loved it. By the end of the year she had earned an award for most improved dancer in her class of 30, she was part of the grandest recital I had ever seen, it took my breath away and she wanted more. That is almost exactly when Oxbow Dance opened its doors, a school much closer to home, this was a blessing that likely changed the course of Gina’s life. In a fledgling school she had access to much one on one teaching, she thrived, she grew, and she fell more and more in love with dance as she spent hours in training every week. Fast forward to post secondary education decisions………there was no decision to be made, she knew what she wanted. She took charge of every single aspect of researching and applying to various schools where she could study musical theatre. She was accepted at the school which was her first choice and made the move this past September. She is now half way through the two year program and is loving it. It is unbelievably hard work, she is always tired, she is learning such interesting and valuable things.

More than once over the last year Gina has asked me, “Mom, how could you have missed it?” She is not accusing me of anything, it is more of a curious question. As her Mom, how could I have not seen that performer inside of her? It’s a good question. I am not sure of the whole answer but I know these two things. I was limited by my ideas of what is normal. This part of my answer is kind of sad. I am a big woman, I know nothing about doing hair and make up, and I don’t really care about it. “People like me don’t belong in the world of dance” is part of what rolled around in my head. It never crossed my mind to encourage any of my kids to pursue dance. Yet, now Jill too is finding her most joy in dance. My own sense of limits shaped the options I considered for my kids. The other part of my answer is what I am proud of. We have always listened to our kids, we have tried to honor how it felt to be them, we have tried to stretch them but also create safety for them, an interesting tension. I think the best thing is that as we listened to them we taught them to listen to themselves. Gina was doing lots of sifting and sorting in grade 8. She was doing well in cadets at that time, but it seemed that she just got honest with herself and said something like this, “I need to be more free to be expressive.” How would a grade 8 student put that? Definitely not those words but that same idea. This is the point where for no apparent reason she choreographed and performed for us a number based on music from the musical “CHICAGO”. Then she asked for those first dance lessons.

So here I sit, my first born is a long way away, she is finishing up classes and practicing for the year end musical offered in a few weeks. In hours this week when I was weary and nostalgic I spent time looking at photos and videos. There were some where indeed, you might say, “Kathy, how could you have missed that?” I and we just did. But Gina didn’t, and that is what makes all the difference. So as her proud and nostalgic Mama I invite you to share in the moments that might have added up to me getting it, but they didn’t!!

To my untrained eye this looks like pretty good form.

Gina was six and a very big fan of the musical “Hairspray.” Just how many times did we watch it?

The desk was a desk but it was also a stage, was that a clue?

She had some good dance instincts at age 8.

Age 8, why talk when you can sing?

Age 7, the hay bales make a great stage too.

Age 11, posing for pictures in a very graceful way.

Almost 15, Gina’s official photo for Drewitz Dance School, the Musical Theatre class performed “Singing in the Rain,”

Four years later at her first show at CCPA, Gina opened the show coming on stage dancing to “Singing in the Rain”, that feels like a full circle!

The song was part of a medley, here she meets a chimney sweep and the number merged into Mary Poppins.

The medley continues and now its become a song from Hamilton the Musical. It was a number probing how tap dance might be more fully utilized in modern musical theatre. It was choreographed by a fellow student, Josie Schmalz and it was called “I’d Tap That.”

I wish this photo wasn’t blurry, but you get the passion and life in those eyes peeking above her mask!

A funny moment lately…..I was talking to Gina on the phone, she said, “I gotta study for my sword fighting final”…..I was thinking, “Gina those are words that I never ever imagined would come from my kids’ mouth!!!” Gina sent me this picture, its travelled too many internet highways to be clear but it gives a sense of this.

Gina was selected to be one of two students in a stage combat mentorship. She was surprised by how much she loved the work of merging combat and dance. It left her wanting more.

Looking to the future Gina feels stage combat will be part of the picture.

Back to 2003…….my first Mothers Day, Gina and I have had a lot of fun over the years!

Some further credits: The pictures of the show from Gina’s school were taken by Andrew Barrett, a designated photographer. Gina is on stage with Mackenzie Langdon, Dustyn Forbes, and Jaren Guerreiro at the Canadian College of Performing Arts. The event was called “The TD Festival of New Works”.