English As She Is Spoke...

“Good English I speak; no excuse for bad grammar, there is.” ... Yoda

Last night I was watching the 6:00 news, and I thought perhaps I was hearing things. The announcer said, "Would have went..." Did I hear him correctly? This morning I received an e-mail from someone at work, and the writer -- an intelligent person -- wrote, "Should of..." It makes my brain hurt when I read things like that. The English language is fluid and it's always changing, but there are certain grammatical rules that should apply, especially to folks in the professional broadcast business.

I'm not a writer, and sometimes I am guilty of using split infinitives, but it seems I am in good company.

"I don't care if he is made to go quickly, or to quickly go--but go he must!" ... George Bernard Shaw

"To boldly go where no man has gone before..." ... Gene Roddenberry

There are so many writing rules that I don't understand, because they don't make any sense. But the spoken word should flow, and it should follow the rules of grammar.  The way we speak says a lot about us.  I remember when I was a little girl my grandfather told me that we can go anywhere in society if our nails are clean, our buttons are polished and we speak properly.  Well, no one polishes buttons anymore, but speaking well is so important.

The other day there was a burglary in Vancouver, in a nice neighborhood with upscale houses.  The next-door neighbor was interviewed, and he said, "I seen the guy walking up the sidewalk, and then a few minutes later I seen him come out of the house..."

It hurt my brain.

Another tendency folks have is the misuse of "I" and "me".  "He gave the book to John and I."  Argh.  Weren't they listening in grade six English class?

When I read through the blogs, I am amazed at how many wonderful writers there are out there, and it's a joy to read something that is well-written.

You would never say, "Would have went..." ... would you?

Lady Gaga -- Art Or Porn...?

A friend and I went on a shopping trip to West Vancouver the other day, and as we were driving over the Lions Gate Bridge I heard a song by Lady Gaga on my friend's car radio. "Who is that?" I asked her, "She has a great voice." My friend said that was Lady Gaga and asked me if I had ever heard of her. Well, of course I had, but I had never heard her sing. So, last night I thought I would check out some of her videos on YouTube. Marigold has a birthday coming up, and I was thinking I would be "cool" and perhaps get her a CD.

Um ... no.

I must be turning into a prude *gasp*, but when did popular music -- you know, the music kids listen to and watch -- become XXX-rated? These folks are putting exotic dancers like Candy, Bambi and Foxy out of business. I guess I have been living under a rock for the past decade or so, because I had no idea. I tried listening to the lyrics, but I turned it off when she started singing about her muffin. And no, I don't think she was referring to her grandmother's special recipe for raisin bran. Oh, goodness... It's too bad; she really does have a nice voice.

Kathy Bates

I have a new favorite actress -- Kathy Bates. She's everywoman. She has had a role in each of the last few movies I have seen, and in each one of them she has stolen every scene. She played Michael Oher's tutor in The Blind Side, and brought his grades -- and the movie -- up from a C- to an A. She was wonderful. And who else could steal a movie from Michelle Feiffer or Kate Winslet? Only Kathy Bates. And for some reason, Kathy Bates never seems to age. She has had the same face for 20 years.

Kathy Bates was blessed with an expressive, mobile face and she can either look attractive or she can look dreadful, and she can switch from one face to the other in an instant. As Annie Wilkes in Misery, the role for which she won an Oscar, she was truly frightening.

"I'm your number one fan. There's nothing to worry about. You're gonna be just fine. I'll take good care of you. I'm your number one fan. You better show me a little more appreciation, Mr. Man."

I think that's the scariest line ever spoken in a movie. It still makes my hair stand on end. During an interview she once said, "I read the book and had to do the movie," she says. "My response to any material is through my stomach. If it grabs me there, I have to do it, and Misery did."

Kathy Bates appears to be having the time of her life in every role she plays. It's as if she knows she's the best thing in the movie, and she plays it to the hilt, but in a subtle way, as if her fans are part of a private club, and only we are in on the secret. Her hot tub scene with Jack Nicholson in About Schmidt was a hoot. Lately Kathy Bates has had a recurring role on The Office, as the CEO of a company taking over Dunder Mifflin, and she has completely re-energized the show.

Kathy, I'm your number one fan.

The Invisible People...

The other night I finally got around to seeing The Blind Side, and of course I enjoyed it. Part way through the movie it occurred to me how similar the story was to Precious. I didn't care for Precious the first time I watched it, but on the wise advice of Phinnaeus, I watched it again, and I'm glad I did. I was able to get past the bleakness of the movie, and the awful language, and see the souls of the young woman and the people who were trying to help her. And the more I watched, the more I could again see the similarity to The Blind Side. In both movies, the teenagers were at the very bottom of society, with no hope of any future. They were each sent to alternative-type schools, but again with no great expectations for their ability to achieve an education. And they were each helped by one person who saw a glimmer -- a spark -- that they were indeed something special. The Blind Side is a true story, and Precious is fiction, but they both resonate with the same message -- don't give up on people who appear to be invisible.

How many times have we walked past invisible people -- perhaps in the hallways at school, or on the street, or with a group of people we know? And, in the alternative, how many times have we felt invisible ourselves? I think everyone has at one time or another, and it's frustrating and demoralizing. Imagine what it must be like for someone on the fringes of society. How many Einsteins or Van Goghs or Beethovens are we overlooking?

There was once a homeless man here in Vancouver by the name of Frank Paul. He was a Mi'kmaq from New Brunswick, and a police officer "accidentally" left Mr. Paul in a back alley in the middle of winter, and he died of hypothermia. I used to see Mr. Paul occasionally, and every time I saw him, I could see a spark of something in his eyes. There was something in there -- a great artist or musician -- and I could see he knew it too. I could also see the look of sadness and shame in his eyes, because he knew there was no hope for him.

I didn't think either Precious or The Blind Side were by any means the greatest movies I've ever seen. One was too brutal, and the other was a bit like a "Hallmark Hall of Fame" TV movie, but I enjoyed them. If you haven't seen them, I would definitely recommend them.

Lulu's Story...

Lulu and I have been friends for many years. As soon as we met, we became instant friends, and although throughout the years our lives have taken different twists and turns, we have always remained close. We were joking the other day about how many of her husbands I have known. Three. Or four. Lulu is one of those people I like -- a true character. She is intelligent, a bit acerbic, witty, well-educated and funny. She is an interior designer, and had designed the offices of one of the companies situated in the World Trade Centers. On the day the towers came down, Lulu phoned me from Toronto, and all she could say was "Oh, sh*t, oh, sh*t". Everyone she knew in that office had perished, as well as many of the people she had known in the Windows on the World Restaurant at the top of the North Tower.

Lulu had been adopted as a child, and she had always been curious about her real identity. Her adoptive family was Scottish-Canadian, and she had been raised in the Scottish tradition, but she was never sure if those were her true roots. She had one brother, also adopted, and she said she always felt a bit like a lost soul. There was a part of her that seemed to be searching for something, a persona that she carefully guarded. She had a wandering spirit, and was able to pick up and leave wherever she was, and just as quickly put down roots in another location. She had become adept at making a home for herself anywhere.

The other day Lulu told me she had recently found her birth records and had found her biological mother and father. She was delighted to know that she was indeed of Scottish heritage, and she told me her real name. I laughed because it suits her even more than the name she has now, and as she said it, it seemed to slip around her shoulders like a comfortable, perfectly fitted jacket -- tartan of course. The look on her face was like watching a lost piece of a jigsaw puzzle snapping into place, completing the picture. Her birth family even has a traditional Scottish tartan, and the strange thing is, for as long as I have known Lulu, she has owned a kilt in that very tartan. Lulu was also delighted to learn that she has eight brothers and sisters. I asked her if she had found any of them, and she said, "It would be rather difficult to find eight brothers and sisters", and I said "But you would only have to find one -- the rest would follow." She said she couldn't imagine finding other people in this world who might perhaps look like her, or have some similarity to her. She has never known what that feels like.

I can hardly wait to hear the rest of Lulu's story. I have a feeling there's a lot more yet to be discovered.

From Zero To Panic

Do you ever worry about things? Let me rephrase that. Do you ever worry unreasonably about things that on an intellectual level you know are just silly? I worry about things. Oh, yes I do. I can go from zero to panic in less than 60 seconds. Most worry is completely unnecessary, but I think the part of the brain that controls worry is reptilian, and we often can't control it. On my research about what part of the brain controls worry, I found this:

The prefrontal cortex (PFC) is in the front half of the brain. It is responsible for our focus, planning, impulse control, emotional control, empathy, judgment and insight. Healthy activity in the PFC leads to conscientiousness, thoughtfulness and a goal-oriented personality. If the PFC is low in activity, it can make a person disorganized, easily distracted and sometimes antisocial. On the other hand, if the PFC is overworked, it can cause anxiety, inflexibility and impulsiveness.

Interesting. Well, I am not inflexible or impulsive, but I do worry about the most idiotic things. Once, when I was about 13, I had a teeny, tiny freckle on my arm that I was convinced was something bad, and I tried to convince my parents that I needed my arm amputated -- now -- before the freckle spread. I couldn't understand why they laughed at me. And when I was about 10, our next-door neighbors belonged to a particular religious cult that believed the world was coming to an end very soon, and they kept telling me to be prepared. Oh, goodness, how many hours did I spend worrying about that? Don't even ask.

For the most part, my set point is fairly easy-going. I'm a creature of habit and and routine. I prefer peace and serenity, rather than chaos, and I want everyone in my life to be the same way. I would prefer folks to be healthy, happy, serene and content every day -- in other words, all of those things that are almost impossible in our modern world.

"Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. It is already tomorrow in Australia." ... Charles M. Schulz

Congratulations To The American People

I think the American folks really got it right with the new health care legislation, and I think in time it will benefit everyone. It may not be perfect, and it will probably require some fine-tuning over the next few years, but the main thing is that in the long term it will help people. It's regrettable that the debates about this issue have caused so much bitterness and animosity in the U.S., but hopefully that will subside. To me, the new legislation is all about charity and kindness towards people who are less fortunate. The most over-looked demographic in almost every country is the working poor, those folks who fall into that grey area between middle-class and poverty. This bill will help them. Health care should not be about big business, but rather it should be about a country being able to look after the health and well-being of its people. Life is a pre-existing condition.

Congratulations to the Americans for getting it right.

Gambie

Today would have been my mother's birthday. I'm not going to tell you how old she would be, though, because my mother always said a lady never tells her age or her shoe size. For most of my life, I didn't know my mother's age, but I knew her shoe size was 6-1/2. She was very petite. She was a combination of Coco Chanel and Ava Gardner, and I was always in awe of her. She loved fashion, and a few times a year she and I would make a trip to Vancouver so she could buy the latest dresses, suits, hats, jewelry, shoes, handbags...  Sometimes she would buy something and hide it away in her closet and say, "Ssshhh... don't tell your Dad."  And then weeks later she would put it on, and my father would say, "Oh, that looks nice, I don't think I've seen that before," and my mother would reply, "Oh, this old thing?  I've had it for ages."  My Dad was always wise to her tricks, but he went along with it anyway.  My mother was beautiful and she knew it. Whenever she and I went downtown after school, my friends would gasp and say, "Is that your mother?" Yes. *sigh*

My Mom and Dad occasionally went out to formal events, and I remember one evening my mother wore a gown that was floor length pale green brocade, with a bow at the back and a deep cut bodice, and the fabric rustled when she walked.  Another dress was a deep mauve taffeta, and it shimmered and changed colors in the light.  And she always wore Chanel No. 5.  My mother was also very funny, with a droll wit. Whenever she wore her high heels, she would chuckle and say, "I sound just like a hor ...sss."  For years I didn't get it, and then one day I repeated it out loud, and I got it.

Her favorite flowers were gladioli and in the summer our garden and our house was always filled with masses of them.  She was a wonderful gardener and cook, and she loved to entertain.  My job was always to polish the silver, because everything had to be done just so.  My mother was always the center of any gathering.  One Christmas I was invited to a party at the house of a CEO of a large corporation in British Columbia.  My mother was staying with me at the time, and I took her with me.  Half way through the evening my daughter and I looked over, and there was Mom sitting on one of the chesterfields, with everyone gathered around her, mesmerized, while she entertained them with one of her stories.  We laughed.

My mother was born and raised in South Africa and educated in England, and how she ended up in a small town on Vancouver Island always caused her the greatest consternation.  She was a wonderful artist and wanted to go to Paris to further her art studies, but her father -- a Captain in the British Army -- prevented her from doing it, afraid he would never see her again if she left.

When I remember my mother now, I realize what a unique person she was, but she was like a caged exotic bird.  She came from a world far away from small town British Columbia, and she always had that far-away look in her eyes.  There is not a day goes by that I don't think about her.

"Some people think luxury is the opposite of poverty. It is not. It is the opposite of vulgarity." ... Coco Chanel

Friendships And Unexpected Gifts -- Just Because

When I went for dinner with my friend on Saturday night, she brought me a little gift -- the letter "J" that you see here. My friend said she had been carrying it around with her since she saw it in a shop window a few months ago, and kept forgetting to give it to me. I'm not a big fan of bling, but I love gifts that are given for no reason -- just because. So I will always treasure my little "J", and I will definitely wear it. Gifts that are given spontaneously are always wonderful, aren't they? They aren't given to us because it's our birthday, or because it's Christmas, but because the person saw something and thought we would like it, so they bought it for us. I had two such gifts this week.

My very special friend sent me a wonderful book about Edward Hopper, one of my favorite artists, from the Des Moines Art Center in Iowa. The book is filled with wonderful paintings, pencil sketches and photographs by Edward Hopper, and there is even a photograph of Edward Hopper himself. The title of the book is "Edward Hopper, Women" and on page 48 there is a painting he has done, entitled "Jo Painting". Edward Hopper and his wife, Jo, used to frequent a chop suey restaurant at Columbus Circle, and they observed the office workers and secretaries who had lunch there every day. Edward Hopper said the restaurants "... must have seemed peaceful oases ... and one imagines the dining rooms filled with the soft tones of quiet conversations between girlfriends." Out of this the wonderful painting "Chop Suey" was born. I had no idea of the history of that painting, my favorite of all of Edward Hopper's work, until I read the book my friend gave me.

Again, I see a certain synchronicity with my two gifts. To an observer, my friend and I having dinner on Saturday night must have seemed similar to the two women in "Chop Suey". We were engrossed in our conversation, and the restaurant felt like a peaceful oasis. And, I'll always treasure my two unexpected gifts and my friends for giving them to me -- just because.

Synchronicity, The New Moon, And The Midnight Train To Georgia

Last night I had dinner with a friend at a steakhouse here in Vancouver called Pinkys. It was wonderful. The decor at Pinkys is retro 1970s, with nostalgic music to match -- "Midnight Train to Georgia" was one of the songs I heard. The food and the service was excellent, which is always good because it leaves folks relaxed and able to enjoy the company of their friends. Our waiter was attentive without being obtrusive. I had a filet mignon, done to perfection, and my friend and I shared a crème caramel for desert.

When I got home, I decided to put my feet up and watch "Twilight, the New Moon". Oh, I know, I know, I'm a 13 year-old girl at heart. The movies are completely silly, but they're fun and they're filmed here in Vancouver. The movie stars Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson, Taylor Lautner and a small part by Dakota Fanning. Well, it turns out that while the stars of the movie were filming here, they visited Pinkys Steakhouse and sat at the same booth where my friend and I had just had dinner. Okay, as far as my claim to fame goes, those are pretty slim pickings, but I love synchronicity like that. I also love a well-cooked steak (medium rare, please) so, if you live in Vancouver, I recommend Pinkys Steakhouse. I wonder if Edward Cullen asked for his steak raw rare.