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This article first appeared in the Winter 2012 edition of The Newcomer Bulletin.

So much of the history of Canada is the history of the newcomer; because few written records exist of the Indigenous peoples in this country before the Europeans arrived, our impressions of our nation are almost always seen through the eyes of people experiencing each other’s culture for the first time.  No where is that more clear than at the Canadian Canoe Museum, which chronicles the individual struggles and  triumphs of people making their way through the land with little in common besides their mode of transport – the canoe.   Read the rest of this entry »

When I started high school in 1991, I was nervous and excited, like a lot of kids going into Grade 9.  Coming from a very small rural elementary school at the edge of the village of Keene, walking through the doors of this 160-year-old urban high school was like a dream.  One of 50 students accepted into the Integrated Arts Program that year, I knew only two other people at PCVS, and I couldn’t have been happier about it.

Elementary school had been, for me, completely brutal.  Our family moved to the village when I was in kindergarten, and in a place where many families could trace their roots back generations, we were strangers. And from that point, until my graduation in grade 8, I was a social pariah, an easy target for bullying, a weird girl in hand-me-down clothes who loved books and knew nothing about sports.

People often speak about the idylls of childhood as though kids are innocents, and being one is an unrelenting exercise in pleasure, play, and freedom from responsibility.  I can’t identify; childhood for me was an endless round of fears, from what new taunting, theft, or physical violence was going to be inflicted upon me at school, to the ever-present money problems at home that formed the backdrop to everything else.  When I look back, I remember stress, anxiety, and depression; I retreated further into my books and was dragged resisting out of bed in the mornings to go to school.  On the walk, I would often daydream about falling and breaking a leg, the idea of avoiding school for a week so appealing that I longed for injury.   Read the rest of this entry »

It’s become a tradition of sorts for me to write something here on December 31, a sort of summing-up and looking forward I would have scoffed at myself for doing a few years ago. But, as arbitrary as it is to do this on a particular date, it feels useful for me to say to myself ‘this is what I’ve accomplished, and this is what I hope to do now.’

This has easily been one of the busiest years of my life, and I’m thankful to have come through it with relative equanimity. A busy year at the museum meant that I’ve run more discrete events this year than I’ve ever done before, and I’m proud of that: receptions, exhibit openings, memorial events, National Canoe Day all came off well.  Dan teamed up with boxer Manny Paquiao to record and release a new version of ‘Sometimes When We Touch,’ and we re-designed Dan’s website, which made April and May a month where I’d come home from work and immediately start work again.  The festival was beautiful, with a near-sell-out crowd for the Good Lovelies, great weather and music all weekend, and our biggest attendance yet (and our most beautiful graphic design ever!).  When it looked like Artsweek was in danger of folding, I broke my ‘no new volunteer projects’ rule to make sure it went forward, and while I wished for better attendance, it was a great program of really solid local arts producers who got paid decently for their work.  The Ontario Council of Folk Festivals conference was a lot of fun, and getting to host a workshop and present the Contemporary Album of the Year award at the Canadian Folk Music Awards was awesome.

I also bought myself cross-country skis and a bicycle this year, and have quietly become one of those annoying bicycle people who are so fanatic about the sense of freedom you get while riding around the city that you wish they’d shut up already.  I’ve gotten better at playing ukulele, I started going to the Improv drop-in at PAPA, and I auditioned for Pride and Prejudice (and got a call-back, though it’s not for another week).  I went to four weddings and saw beloved friends get hitched in the most beautiful setting imaginable. We got four little chicks from the local co-op in the Spring, and now get four eggs a day and endless entertainment from our pullets.

There’s been heartbreak and stress, too, that I’m not going to re-hash, but I have a pretty good life, and I’m grateful for it.  I have a family that are willing to jump in and lend a hand when I need help, and friends whose successes and triumphs I’m excited to watch.  I’ve got a grouchy, paranoid black cat who sometimes curls up in my lap, purring.  I’ve got jobs I love and enjoy, and now, as I pass on the mantle of festival ED, I’ve got the free time to pursue my own artistic endeavors.  There’s a lot more that I want out of life, but I recognize that what I’ve got now is pretty wonderful.

In 2009, I promised myself a few things for the decade that I hoped would lead to a better life, and better circumstances, than I was in at the time.  When I look back at where I was a mere two years ago, I feel like I’ve progressed leaps and bounds.  So instead of making flat-out resolutions for 2012, here’s some guidance (for myself) for the year ahead: Read the rest of this entry »