Oil Country for Old Men - 2024 NHL Playoffs

I don't consider myself a fair-weather fan because it isn't like I cheer for a different NHL team or anything, but I simply cannot be arsed to watch regular season games in pretty much any sport. But tournaments? The games that really matter? I am there every time, and twice for my hometown hockey team.

So I got one of my intermittent Sportsnet subscriptions (and will do so again this summer for the Euros and the Olympics - games where no one gets traded!), dusted off the McDavid jersey I bought last winter and for better or worse, tied my emotional well-being to a bunch of rich athletes whose job it is to chase a rubber disc around a fake pond with sticks while another group tries to murder them.

And to be honest, grit, determination and character is what drew me back to watching the Oilers back in 2006 (Ryan Smyth in particular), and not every player I cheer for brings that to the table. But even guys I feared were old school enforcers like Corey Perry, or potential malcontents like Evander Kane have proven to be great additions to the squad.

Frankly it is easy to like a group led by one of the greatest players in the game today, and even a casual fan like myself can be amazed by the speed and talent that Connoir McDavid brings to the ice - he is simply uncanny to watch.

And likewise Leon Draisaitl, who I keep mistaking for Jake Gyllenhall when they show him on the bench sometimes.

But Nugent-Hopkins, Bouchard, Ceci and especially (playoff goal-scoring leader!) Hyman all add needed ingredients to the cocktail.

I respect Desharnais' size. I love Ekholm's beard, possibly the league's best. And Stuart Skinner adds great, if not always consistent, goaltending that has long been a missing component for my home team.

And tonight, after a stressful seven-game series against Vancouver that featured not one but two elimination games for my team, the Oilers are on to the Western Conference Final against Dallas, who will be even tougher than Vancouver.

Will this next round of playoffs continue to take a toll on my nerves as well as my liquor cabinet?

In terms of self medication (remember kids, it is still medication!), tonight's game required quite a few paralyzers, and the last ten minutes of nailbiting almsot warranted another. But in the end, they were able to hold off a strong team that had already notched a nearly impossible comeback in the same series.

Here's to victory in Dallas on Thursday!

A Nickel's Worth of...What, Exactly?

The advance polls open tomorrow for Edmonton's municipal elections, and I am in a quandary regarding the selection for mayor. I know who I want to vote for, but I am worried about vote-splitting allowing a less-desirable candidate to waltz in. 

I was in a similar predicament in 2004 and voted my heart in that election, giving Stephen Mandel the win over incumbent Bill Smith and Robert Noce. The former I had viewed as a tired status quo, while the latter had displayed a number of weasely tendencies over their campaign. I considered voting strategically to keep a weasel out of the office, but was dissuaded by a timely column from the Journal's municipal affairs columnist (and later councillor) Scott McKeen.

At that time, I chose optimism over pragmatism, and maybe I should again - I have less than no interest in having Mike Nickel as my mayor.

Portrait by Tim Mikula

Nickel has a well-deserved reputation as an outspoken city councillor, and whose blunt and confrontational manner has seen him brought to council's attention on multiple code of conduct violations but has escaped censure every time as this requires 9 council votes. Marketing reports (described in the article linked above) show how many voters see Nickel as “says no,” “an I-told-you-so guy,” “frustrated” and “irritable,” now of which are flattering and all of which are easy to ascribe to him.

He is a hard-working and experienced campaigner, and there is no question he is winning the battle of the yard signs, at least from my perspective here on the North side. I saw him canvassing door-to-door a couple of weeks back, and hoped he would come to my step so I could speak my mind, despite my general aversion to confrontation.

He did not, but here is what I hoped I would have said to him:

Mr. Nickel, a part of me is sad you are not running for council again, as I think these bodies work best when they represent a multiplicity of perspectives. I think it is good to have someone on council who can always be counted on to ask, "but what is that going to cost?" and "where is the benefit to this?"

But a good mayor has to build a consensus out of those perspectives, and I have seen absolutely no demonstration that you possess any diplomatic inclinations whatsoever. You bad-mouth city staff and administrators and even endorse council candidates against incumbent councillors that you may end up having to work with! I can't decide if this is naked opportunism ar just short-sightedness, but neither of these endear you to me as a candidate.

If I add that to your frankly bullying and harassing ways on social media, I can't help but think you would be a bad choice for mayor.

I mean, who knows how far I would have gotten before he realized there is no way to get my vote and he walked off, at which point I might have added, "Is this the kind of interaction I can expect if you do win? To walk away from opinions you don't agree with?"

In the end, though, this discourse remains a fantasy, and my difficult choice for mayor remains.

My two favoured candidates are both former councillors (I would have a hard time voting in a mayor with no council experience). I have been a fan of Kim Krushell from her tenure of council from 2005-2013, particularly her standing up to the Kingsway Business Association (and all their money) and their dogged determination to keep the municipal airport open. 

She had my vote until former Trudeau cabinet minister Amarjeet Sohi announced his candidacy four months later. I like Sohi; prior to his council term, he was a city bus driver, and this working-class perspective is often left out of elected office. And his name recognition gives him a serious edge over Krushell, out of the public eye for almost a decade now. - in fact, a Leger poll in late July gave Sohi a significant lead, but at that time, 43% of those polled were undecided. 

A friend in the know also tells me that a private poll now shows Nickel ahead of Sohi.

So these are the horns of the dilemma on which I find myself - if my primary goal in this election is to keep the least desirable candidate imaginable out of the mayor's seat, do I:

i) vote my heart and hope many others do the same, risking splitting the vote and giving Nickel an easier path to victory, or

ii) vote strategically for the early frontrunner since I feel they would also be a good mayor?

My optimism is struggling to overcome my pragmatism, and more than anything else, I dearly wish we had preferential balloting for municipal elections.

As it sits, please feel free to share your opinions about my decision either in the comments or with me directly; at least the election isn't until October 18 so I have time to decide, if not a methodology for doing so!

So Folking Strange - Edmonton Folk Fest 2019

Another year, another exhausting, entrancing, frustrating and delightful Edmonton Folk Music Festival. The strangeness in the title refers primarily to the environment, the physical side of which requires periodic application of both sunscreen and long underwear (as well as bug repellent), while the musical side incorporates a disparate range of musical styles you might think had no place at the same venue, let alone sharing a stage. Acadian, African, Celtic, acoustic, electric, instrumental and a capella, all coming together impossibly well.

The California Honeydrops are joined by vocalists The Hamiltones.

Thursday night I got to see bluegrass veterans Trampled by Turtles, who bring a post-punk sensibility to the venerable style, like an Appalachian version of The Pogues.

If you need a bluegrass cover of  Pixies "Where Is My Mind," TBT have that too.

Trampled By Turtles were followed by St. Paul and the Broken Bones, a soul band from Birmingham Alabama led by soulful vocalist Paul Janeway. St. Paul himself may have topped the festival in terms of energy, no more so than when he left the stage and strode up the ski hill, belting out his tune the entire way with no discernible loss of breath. Astonishing!

My favourite act of the weekend though was one of the interstitials that entertained the crowd between headliners: David Jay, The Spaniard. Jay is an Edmonton lad presented as part of the School of Song, four sets of up and coming Alberta artists who also shared a stage the next day

Using an acoustic guitar and a complex looping system he runs with a set of pedals, Jay blends an astonishing array of sounds and rhythms into original compositions that marry classical Spanish guitar and a heavier rock sound.

I saw The Spaniard onstage three times this weekend; the last time at a workshop session where he got the opportunity to jam with an American bluegrass duo (Tim O'Brien and Jan Fabricius), a wonderful English singer/songwriter (John Smith), a Vancouver blues duo and their vocalist (The Harpoonist and the Axe Murderer with Dawn Pemberton), and a talented trio from Madagascar (Toko Telo). He also played his own version of Hans Zimmer's great Interstellar score.

Saturday night was a great main stage, with Bahamas (the stage name of charming and talented Afie Jurvanen) opening up for Canadian legends Bruce Cockburn and Blue Rodeo, but once again it was an in-betweener who stood out: J.S. Ondara, who moved from Kenya to Minneapolis when he was 20, a mere seven years ago. Ondara channels Delta bluesman Robert Johnson in his look and a mellifluous voice reminiscent of Tracy Chapman.

I came into the weekend with a sense of obligation for my volunteer duties (which involves some very early mornings on Saturday and Sunday but which are completed before a single musician takes the stage) and very little anticipation aside from the two Saturday night headliners.

Thankfully, a wonderful set of teammates, accommodating patrons and weather that was cool and damp (but sporadically sunny and quite warm) without last year's buckets of rainfall meant I was able to spend more time on Gallagher Hill this time around, braving a little exposure to the elements in exchange for exposure to new artists I might not have come across otherwise - a strange and wonderful time indeed. I'm already looking forward to next year!

This Folking Weather (Plus Ry Cooder and Desert Blues)

For the second time in three years, I have returned to the Edmonton Folk Music Festival as a volunteer - just in time for one of the most extreme weather swings I have ever experienced in this province.

On Friday, helping to administer the tarp lottery, my crew and I endured a sweltering 35 degrees, Edmonton's hottest day of the year. Thursday felt even hotter, but that experience prompted me to bring an umbrella for shade the following day as there was virtually none to be found in our corral by Stage 1.

Saturday, with rain positively pouring down during Regina Spektor's set, it got down to 12 degrees, and felt even colder due to the damp. Despite having two layers on under my rain jacket, sitting off the ground in a festival chair with a reversible car blanket covering my legs and am umbrella trying to keep the back of my chair dry, I was still shivering.

I got up in search of warmth just as she wrapped up, but the merch tent had neither sweatshirts nor long underwear. I have both long johns and multiple sweatshirts at home, so I ended up getting fish and chips instead, which definitely kept me from succumbing so I could watch Ry Cooder's set.

Ry Cooder provided the soundtrack to a lot of movies I adored in back in the day: The Long Riders, Southern Comfort, Streets of Fire, Crossroads. His album Get Rhythm, with the eponymous cover of the Johnny Cash classic, remains eminently listenable.

At 71, he has lost none of his mastery of guitar (with or without bottleneck slide) or mandolin. In fact, I was once told that Ry Cooder is considered a virtuoso on pretty much any stringed instrument, and I have no cause to disbelieve that.

He was backed by a three piece r&b/soul outfit called The Hamiltones, who were as brilliant as you might expect backing up a legend like Cooder, and played two of their own tracks as well. (They normally sing backup to Anthony Hamilton, who sang "Freedom" on the soundtrack to Django Unchained.

The set itself was soulful, and you can get a taste of the instrumentality in this video for Prodigal Son.

Lyrically, it's not quite gospel music, but definitely spiritually situated, treading a line between disappointment and the need to get better:

Now you fashion-loving Christians sure give me the blues
You must unload, you must unload
You'll never get to heaven in your jewel-encrusted high-heel shoes
You must, you must unload

...and the hopefulness and forgiveness of faith, represented in a setting perhaps just this side of blasphemous:

Now, I wandered into a tavern
Where a music band was playin'
Now, the steel guitar rang out so sweet
I feel that I was prayin'
And I asked a comely waitress
"Is this a new teaching?"
Yeah, she said, "There is no God but God
And Ralph Mooney is his name"
I said, "Let me empty your ashtray, Mr. Mooney
And if the drunks interfere I'll be sad
But just as long as you sit there on the bandstand
And play your guitar like Buddha, I'll be glad!"
Now the father asked the prodigal
"Did you smell the sweet perfume and hear the angel band?"
He said, "Daddy! Dim lights, thick smoke, and loud, loud music
Is the only kind of truth I'll ever understand!"

The cold and the wet was easier to bear, with Ry Cooder and the Hamiltones warming us up from the inside out.

Other intriguing bands I intend to follow up on:

Tinariwen

A lot of rockers like to call themselves rebels, but these guys are the real deal: a band of nomadic Tuaregs recording since the late 70s, and whose members have been both propagandists for and fighters in Mali's five-decades of civil war. Their style of music has been described as desert blues, and is a fascinating amalgam of styles.

Dakhabrakha

A Ukrainian trio of multi-instrumentalists and vocalists who describe their sound as 'ethnic chaos', and which I won't even try to describe. They ran the gamut from frenzied to reflective without missing a gear. You can see a full radio performance of theirs here.

Tash Sultana

This young Australian has 40 different instruments under her belt, has a lovely voice, and accompanies herself using a technique called live-looping. Her big break came from a video of her doing a track called Jungle, by herself, in her bedroom, went viral. Not for every taste, but if you like sincere electronica with a broad sound, I suggest checking her out as well.

Last night I was unsure if I would go back for Sunday night's main stage performance, but writing this up (ahead of time, as I know it will not happen afterwards, and I don't want to break my update streak) has me jazzed up again, so after a massive afternoon nap to supplement last night's 3.5 hours sleep, I will gear up with my layers and long johns and head back out to Gallagher Hill to see Shakey Graves and Nick Mulvey and The Milk Carton Kids, only one of whom I have heard of.

Even past the half-century mark, the joy of discovering new music lives!

Rainbows On Whyte

This year, for its 35 year anniversary, the Edmonton Pride Parade and Festival moved from downtown to Old Strathcona. Because this is marginally less convenient to me, personally, I was initially upset by this change in venues, but it makes a lot of sense. Churchill Square was already getting too small to hold all the attendees and vendors, the grass at Strathcona Park is a lot nicer on a hot day than the downtown concrete, and the new LRT construction is going to take the area around City Hall out of play for a couple of years beginning in 2016, so getting ahead of this change is more than reasonable, it is laudable.

 

Still, parking round Old Strathcona is a chore, and our timetable didn't make Edmonton Transit a viable option, so there was some concern about having to park miles away, then march in the parade, and THEN trudge all the way back past the marshalling area to retrieve our vehicle.

 

Then I remembered the High Level Streetcar.

This vintage trolley runs from north of the river to within 4 blocks of Tipton Arena, where we were to meet, and two blocks from the festival, at the Old Strathcona Farmer's Market, so it was ideal to our needs. Plus, we found parking ridiculously close for only $2; a great find after the first lot wanted $24 for 4 hours or $35 for all day.

 

Considering it is the first year for this large a parade, we got assembled fairly quickly. Best of all, there was a food store across the street where I could purchase an ice-cold Caribbean lemonade prior to marching.

An amazing cross-section of humanity comes out for Pride; our church was beside a group of Lutherans and the UFCW local, and in front of the Edmonton Atheists and their Flying Spaghetti Monster, and everyone got on just fine. Some of the costumes you see, range from the provocative to just shy of assaulting the senses, but I didn't speak to anyone so much shocked as they were perhaps surprised and even, in some cases, delighted at the range of expression to be found on parade day.

 

This was also only the second time our whole family of four could march together, since Glory's next feis is not until next weekend, and Tara came out from Leduc to join us too, despite having tickets to the Women's World Cup Opening Ceremonies later that same day.

Decked out in our most colourful accessories, we had a great time marching with our rainbow umbrellas. I'm told that next year we may be working up a 'routine', but we will have to see; this year, smiling and twirling were sufficient. The breeze was not so strong as to jeopardize our umbrellas, but helped to keep us cool as we marched in the noonday sun; even more invigorating were the cheers from the crowd.

(This is also one of the few selfies not containing Justin Trudeau, based on most of the others I have seen since...)

After the parade, Glory was feeling the effects of the sunburn she had gotten the day before, but we had just enough time to grab some lunch from a food truck. In this instance, it was the sublime Duck Tots from Attilla the HUNgry: crispy tater tots topped with tender braised duck legs, lime sriracha sauce, hoisin aioli, and a combination of green onion, cilantro, and peanuts on top. Delicious!

 

On the way back home, I tried for a High Level selfie with Glory, out the window of the streetcar, and it mostly worked. A great day, over all.

 

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Opera-tunity Knocks

This is my 500th post to Confessions of a Middle-Aged Adolescent. Sure, 60 of them are relatively brief beer-oriented ones, but I'm pretty happy that I am still finding stuff to write about on a (more or less) consistent basis. To be honest, I'm kind of surprised that my ten of readers keep turning out to peruse my ramblings, especially since my primary objective is just to capture both the important and the trivial things that relate to me, to aid my memory in the years to come!

 

I also didn't want a milestone post to be about today's beer from the Advent Calendar, so I thought I would document some feelings about Fenya getting her first paying job.

 

Now, Fenya is a pretty good worker for the most part, and I'm saying that as her Dad, a guy who gets bent out of shape from finding half-finished chores around the house, or has to get on her about putting tools back where they belong after a project has captured her imagination. How much of this is simple Freudian transference from Audrey subjecting me to similar treatment from time to time, no one can say, but she is a responsible, compassionate kid with a good sense of right and wrong. She has had small gigs before, like sorting music for the choir (which put money towards her touring expenses), collected bottles and the like as well as babysitting, but never a job where you needed to provide your social insurance number.

Or join a union, for that matter...

Like a lot of kids in my hometown, my first job was working at the local McDonald's, on the grill. Ronald's place is a pretty decent place to work as a teenager, looking back. Lots of people your own age, schedulers willing to work around exams and the like, lots of little incentives like crew parties and competitions, as well as a free meal every shift. I didn't think much of it at the time, and quit as soon as another opportunity opened up elsewhere, but it could have been a lot worse.

 

Fenya's first paying gig, as it happens, is performing with the Edmonton Opera Company in their production of Mozart's "The Magic Flute", starting January 31st.

 

It's important to me that you know that I critically misread the entire situation that led up to this circumstance; when I heard the EOC was looking for some children, and had approached Cantilon looking for those who were large of voice but small of stature, and that Fenya was auditioning for a part, my assumption was that it was some sort of children's chorus. I still thought this was pretty cool, but as the chamber choir has sung for The Nutcracker every winter since she joined it, didn't pay it nearly as much heed as I obviously should have...

 

I pressed her for some details when the rehearsal schedule was released, and she corrected me, gently but firmly: "Dad, it isn't a chorus; I have an actual role, like, a singing part."

"Uh...what?"

"I'm 'Spirit #2'. There are three of us, and we advise the main characters, like Prince Tamino."

I started to nod, but then felt moved to confess that since Bugs Bunny had never adapted elements of Die Zauberflöte, I had used up the extent of knowledge simply by being aware of its existence.

She then went on to explain that the role was of enough stature and significance that she would not only be getting paid, but she would also need to join the Actor's Equity union as well. A couple of weeks later, we met the company director before a chamber choir rehearsal in order to sign her contract (!), and he explained everything.

Previously, he said, these roles had not required Union membership, and the (typically) young people in them had been given a simple honorarium, but they had changed this recently. As a result, the Opera Company would pay the membership fee up front, then deduct that amount from the weekly wage before paying them the remainder so they wouldn't be out of pocket. Since the membership fee was startling close to four digits, I thought this sounded both fair and reasonable.

 

Fenya went to her costume fitting about a week ago, and her first rehearsals this Monday and Tuesday, but is now off until after Christmas. Starting on the 28th though, there are a dozen more rehearsals before the curtain goes up Saturday, January 31st. They even gave her a parking pass for the performance nights, even though she doesn't have her driver's license yet.

 

I've never been to a live opera, but we have floor tickets for opening night for this one, and I am really looking forward to it! Auntie Tara was much quicker on the draw and got her seats much earlier, and so might have a better view than us, but that's okay; sitting closer to the back will keep my beaming and inflated head from getting in the way of the rest of the audience.

It probably goes without saying that I am incredibly proud of Fenya for doing this, but why leave it to chance; I am completely impressed with and proud of this girl (and her sister, for that matter). She still professes to have no musical career ambitions, but is looking forward to putting her experience with the Edmonton Opera Company on her résumé. And why shouldn't she? It's way better than flipping burgers.

 

 

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A Nerd Among Nerds

The line between pop culture and the mainstream gets blurrier every year, it seems. Where adult consumers of science-fiction and comic books and the like once had to indulge those interests among like-minded friends or through small-scale media like fanzines, now an event like the Edmonton Expo can attract tens of thousands of attendees from within a city considered by many to be the redneck capital of Canada.

 

I was nowhere near the oldest attendee, and there were lots of parents there with their children, often all kitted out in some form of costume, or at least sporting t-shirts displaying where their specific fandom lay. Attending sci-fi cons in the '90s, a significant number of the females attending (but nowhere near all!) were wives and girlfriends of a more interested fellow, but now fangirls of all ages are enjoying themselves and proudly identifying as part of the subculture.

 

There are probably as many reasons for attending these events as there are people; some are there to show off their costuming skills, others are there to buy collectible movies or art, and still others are there to rub elbows with celebrities from television, movies and animation. And it was quite a crowd for our little self-deprecating burg; Dwight Schultz and Dirk Benedict from The A Team (yes, and Star Trek and Battlestar Galactica), Mads Mikkelsen from Hannibal (and Casino Royale), Simon Helberg and Kunal Nayyar from Big Bang Theory, Summer Glau from Firefly and Arrow, Alice Cooper, and more.

Me? Strangely enough, I was mostly there to hear the mayor.

 

Edmonton Mayor Don Iveson was scheduled to give a talk on cities of the future; I thought it was cool that the Edmonton Expo organizers thought to invite him, and even cooler that he agreed to come.

Having read his blog and listened to him campaign, I knew Mayor Iveson to be a thoughtful and insightful individual, and that he has a reputation as a bit of a nerd in a political sense, what you might call a 'policy wonk'. Turns out he is a nerd of many colours.

There was a bit of a delay at the beginning of his presentation as the a/v crew struggled to bring a slideshow up on the screen that was inititially intended to magnify his image for those in the back of the room. Instead of looking uncomfortable, he asked a cosplayer dressed as Wolverine in the front row to stand up and said to the crowd, "Maybe we can get this guy to be our Wolverine statue, what do you think?", alluding to the recent petition. There were some good-hearted cheers from the audience, and then he stood for a few pictures with the ersatz Weapon X.

 

Once onstage, there was some trouble with the mics, and he said, "That's just as well, it gives me some time to do this..." and proceeded to hang his suit jacket on the back of this chair. Then he took off his tie, and I thought, 'Man, this smacks of image management; I hope he is not going to some contrived effort to look more casual and approachable or something...'

 

And then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

 

This prompted a few cheers and whistles from the crowd, so he demurely turned his back while he finished removing his dress shirt, and then turned around to reveal a classic gold Star Trek captain's tunic.

 

This was immensely well received, and while the techs finished getting his mics prepped, he asked of the crowd, "Star Trek? Or Star Wars?" It started out evenly, but I think Star Trek edged out in the end.

 

The mayor made a point of explaining that the delay was entirely his fault and not due to the 'redshirts' backstage, as they had not known he was bringing a slides how and were hard at work making it work. Any show of humility like that will always go a long way with me, and doubly so with an elected official. Plus I thought referring to them as redshirts was delightful.

Once he got underway, Mayor Iveson spoke for about 30 minutes about what steps the city of Edmonton was taking in terms of preparing for the future, the challenges yet to come, and where we might eventually go. He started out talking about the importance of mass transit, not just from an environmental sense, but a sociological one, citing the fact that twenty years ago, 90% of all 18 year olds had their driver's license, but now it was closer to 70%.

He talked about the infrastructure needed to protect us from the effects of climate change, and the fact that in the last decade or so Edmonton has had not one but three storms in the 'once in two-hundred years' category, but that the category itself has changed, going from two inches of rain within 24 hours fifty years ago to two-and-a-half inches now, and how all our drains and sewers were built for the former, but now have to accommodate the latter.

Points were also made about the environmental impacts of various initiatives, like the new biofuel plant soon to come onstream, and the opportunity to move waste and rain water with natural looking retention ponds and medians with rocks and plant matter that look like ditches, but are called 'bio berms' because it sounds better.

All the while he spoke, he engaged the crowd, rarely referring to his notes, and peppering legit sci-fi references into his presentation. Showing the four globes needed to sustain our planet if everyone on earth lived the way we do in Edmonton, he quipped, "There are four lights...anyone?" before moving on.

It was an impressive presentation, and not just because Don Iveson is a wicked smart guy (though he is), or because he is a fanboy like so many of us; a number of things struck me as he spoke.

The first was his earnestness, sharing his fascination with trains, not just because of their role as 'energy agnostic pedestrian accelerators', but because he likes to ride them with his son, because trains are cool. How he considers himself lucky to be allowed to weigh in on complicated and important matters as part of his job.

Second was his compassion. One of the reasons he takes the train to work is because everyone takes the train, and this not only gives him a chance to talk to everyday Edmontonians about what bothers them and makes them happy, but also to see the people on the margins, and recognize that any meaningful future has to accommodate them as well.

Next was his ability to see the big picture, looking at issues of urban sprawl not just from the point of view of how difficult it can be to string transit and utilities to outlying areas, but also about impacts on neighbouring communities and the watershed, and how our choices now will affect future generations of homeowners and renters. Looking at transit, he thinks LRT is important, but is grateful and proud to have Edmontonians working on a versatile maglev system with robotic cars coupling and uncoupling as needed.

Lastly was his sincerity; Mayor Iveson was not at the Edmonton Expo to dress like a fanboy, he clearly is one. He used a comparison between Star Trek: The Next Generation and Elysium to contrast two diametrically opposed visions of the future: one of scarcity and the other of abundance. He also made it clear that he thinks the latter is more probable, because he fundamentally believes that people are good (and backs that up with his personal experience of having knocked on about 25,000 doors!), but also fears that a dystopia could be our fate due to circumstances beyond our control; a cautious sort of optimism.

In the end he came back to the question of Star Wars versus Star Trek, saying that he always felt that Star Wars is about charismatic individuals sticking it to the man: Han Solo is basically the Marlboro Man, Luke is Paul Revere, Obi Wan is Thomas Jefferson and Yoda is Benjamin Franklin, while the Emperor is essentially the King of England. The whole thing starts to take on a Revolutionary War narrative, and there is nothing wrong with the colonies standing up for themselves, but in comparison, he feels Star Trek is about groups of different people coming together to make things better for everyone. And when they've made sure that everyone at home is taken care of, they start exploring, and, guided by the Prime Directive, they try to help other to figure this out as well.

 

The Journal gave some nice coverage to his presentation here, and I hope the Expo organizers put it online at some point, as I would love to share it with some people, and wouldn't mind seeing it again for myself. Having been there though, I came away hopeful for the potential future some of our elected leaders see for the city I live in, grateful that talented and passionate people like Don Iveson (and a lot of others on council) choose an often thankless career in public service, and smugly pleased that so many nerds turned up to hear one of their own to talk about the future.

 

Plus it is refreshing to no longer feel so jealous of Calgary and their cool mayor; we have our own, and he is one of us.

 

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Cloth of Thy Mother

After some fascinating debate at The Earliad over symbols of war and remembrance, the decision came today as to where our family should make our observances.  Our good friends the Hawkins were up from Camrose with their two young boys, which eliminated any lengthier services, regardless of whether they were indoors like the one at the Butterdome, or outdoors at Ainsworth Dyer Bridge.

As luck might have it, today was the dedication of the new Patricia Park in the Griesbach neighbourhood right next to ours, dedicated to Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry.  Two battalions are stationed at the nearby Edmonton Garrison, and much of the regiment was on parade today; I would guess somewhere around 200 serving members plus a number of individuals in civilian dress but wearing their medals or berets.

Short speeches spoke not of the many accomplishments of the regiment, nor of battle honours won, but of the sacrifices needed at times of war and unrest, from its inception at the start of WWI, through to those lost in WWII, Korea, the Cold War, the Balkans and Afghanistan.  Representatives from the provincial and city governments, as well as Edmonton City Police and RCMP "K" Division laid wreaths at a centerpiece adorned with the regimental crest.  Gratitude was expressed to the support given by the city and its residents, especially those of the Griesbach and Castle Downs neighbourhoods.  I also appreciated the Chaplain  explicitly inviting those who may not be believers to perhaps take a moment to reflect, when he asked those who believed to join him in prayer.

There was a good amount of people in attendance, which is always gratifying to see, especially those who were there with younger children.  The mission in Afghanistan is finally winding down, for better or worse, but it dawned on me today that the faces of the servicemen and women I saw at Patricia Park are now closer to Fenya's age than my own, and I know they will have to work grueling hours in often dangerous conditions for little in the way of pay or recognition.  It is important to me that as many of us who are able to, continue to come to these events to show our support, as well as paying our respects for the comrades they remember, whether recent victims of war and unrest or from nigh on a century ago.

Remembrance should not be a solely intellectual exercise; it should involve community and recognition on a face to face or eye to eye level wherever possible, whether with those in uniform or our neighbours.  I wonder sometimes if the discontent that some people have with Remembrance Day and the traditional red poppy stems from the professional army of today overshadowing the volunteer army of yesteryear, but it doesn't matter.  The freedoms fought for and gained by our veterans include the right for individuals to treat this day as any other, and the opinion that somehow our November observances have moved beyond commemoration and into glorification is just as entitled to protection as any other I don't agree with.  At least those who wear the white poppy seem to agree how important it is that we not forget.

August 10, 2014 marks the 100th anniversary of Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, and there will be a ceremony at Patricia Park that will include depositing a time capsule where the wreaths were laid today, to be opened in 50 years.  I hope we can be present for that as well.

In anticipation of the anniversary, a song was commissioned about the regimental camp flag, the "Ric-a-dam-doo" (allegedly Gaelic for "cloth of they mother") which was actually hand-made by Princess Patricia of Connaught herself.  The song was written by Bryan Adams and performed by the wives of the regiment, who call themselves Homefire.

Brush Up On Your Shakespeare

My relationship with the Bard over the course of my life has been inconstant, to say the least.  Shakespeare's legendary presence precedes his works, making it difficult if not impossible to appreciate them simply as stories in their own right.  I started out seeking Shakespeare, but found him difficult to comprehend in reading.  Taking on Julius Caesar in Junior High though, in the 'gifted' class, meant taking the time to learn the background and context of the Imperial Rome, and reading the parts in turn.

It turns out, for me at least, that reading Shakespeare's plays is the least effective and enjoyable way to experience them.  Hearing the intonations and seeing the actions make the words that much more memorable, and prevent the narrative from becoming bogged down in archaic language or sentence construction.

Not being a big one for live theater though, I have enjoyed many cinematic adaptations of his work, my favourite probably being Kenneth Branagh's brilliant Henry V.  His Much Ado About Nothing was also highly enjoyable, as was Mel Gibson's Hamlet, Ian McKellen's Richard III and Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet.  I'm also looking forward to Joss Whedon's b&w take on Much Ado About Nothing, which he did on a shoestring budget after completing The Avengers, a sort of cinematic sorbet to cleanse the palate, if you will.

Two weeks ago, our friends Scott and Margaret took us out to see King Lear, performed outdoors by the Free Will Players at Hawrelak Park.  The initial ambiance provided by the thunderstorm (which accompanied the tragic King's departure into a similar deluge in an example of perfect timing) soon turned into a full-on downpour accompanied by hail, and after a 25 minute break saw no hope for a let up, the play was sadly called off.

Since our hosts were leaving town shortly and were not going to have an opportunity to use their rain checks, they gave them to us and suggested we take the girls to see the festival's other offering, A Midsummer Night's Dream.  This seemed like a much better choice for an 11 and 14 year-old's first live Shakespeare, so last Friday we did just that.  I had not doubt that Fenya would enjoy the production, as she is a voracious reader, and appreciates period language, but I was concerned that Glory might find the story's multiple settings confusing, or worse yet, boring.

Liz Nicholl's review found this rendition of MSND to be a bit much, but the colourful, farcical and immersive production was a lot of fun for those of us who don't get out much.  The minimalist stage (also used very effectively for King Lear) aided only by some giant flowers and grassy green blocks, moved us effectively from the halls of King Theseus to the forest court of the Fairy-King, Oberon.

Some of the entrances and exits took place in the very aisles next to where we sat, including a brief prelude which suggests Nick Bottom to be an everyday modern(ish) Greek who heads off to the agora to drink ouzo with the other men, accompanied by a shout of "Don't be an ass, Bottom, go home to your wife!", and who might be experiencing the play (and the play within a play) in his dreams, almost Inception-like.

The entirety of the cast were excellent, but special props need to go to Jesse Gervais and Sheldon Elter as Lysander and Demetrius for their characterful slapstick, and especially Kevin Corey's Robin Goodfellowe (more commonly known as Puck), who eats up most of the scenes he is in with voracious aplomb.

Most importantly, the girls had a great time: Fenya probably got more out of the language and plot, but Glory might have enjoyed it even more, and leaned forward on her seat for almost the entire performance with a gigantic grin on her face.  Seeing Shakespeare live and outdoors, it is hard to imagine a better way to experience the legendary playwright for the first time.  I certainly hope it isn't the last, and with any luck, we can return next year as well.  In the meantime, it looks like Whedon's Much Ado is out on Blu-ray October 7th, and Branagh's ginormous 1996 Hamlet is patiently awaiting our attentions on the PVR.

Snow News is Good News

There are a lot of reasons a person's picture might end up in the newspaper. Somewhere near the middle of a continuum that includes an orange jumpsuit wearing perp walk at one end and being given the key to the city by the mayor while your cape billows in the wind at the other, is having your face immortalized in a spray of snow as you plummet downhill on a sled.

Our friends from Camrose were up for the weekend with their young boys, and the combination of bright sun, no wind, and fresh snow made the allure of the sledding hill at Government House Park irresistible.

I thought it would be busy since we didn't get there until just before noon, but there were no other cars in the parking lot, and only a handful of other people, most of whom busied themselves on the steeper hill at the foot of the Royal Alberta Museum.

Government House has been my favourite place for sledding for years now, but I have never seen it looking as beautiful as it did today.  Bright and clear, with patches of ice still scudding down the unfrozen North Saskatchewan, and tree branches piled with snow in a way that made them look as artificial as a ceramic Christmas village.

We hadn't been sledding long when a man with no toboggan, nor tube nor krazy karpet, but with a large bag and a laminate made his way to the foot of the smaller hill we were using, and asked if he could take some pictures for the Edmonton Sun.  "You don't have to do anything except ignore me," he joshed, so we agreed.

Going downhill face first, as I am inclined to do, means that any fresh snow I encounter is likely to be worn or ingested, and hearing the autowinder (or whatever you'd call  it on a digital camera) clicking away as I slowly drew to a halt made it pretty likely that my facefull was captured in some fashion.  Picking myself up, I heard him chuckle, "The beard full of snow really makes that picture."

"Old Man Winter, Middle-Aged Guy Winter; not a lot of difference," I replied.

When he was finished, he asked for our names, and said if any of them were picked, they would be in tomorrow's paper, and even if they weren't, they might make it to the website.  Surfing on the iPad after supper, I swung by their site and saw Glory's picture as the link to a slideshow entitled 'Winter in Edmonton.'

I wasn't surprised to see her there; she brings a lot of charm and joie de vivre to the table, and I think this picture conveys that pretty well.  What does surprise me is that of all the people sledding, including my darling daughters, charming wife, and my godson and his brother, mine is the picture they chose to use?

Must be the hat.

UPDATE:  The paper edition of today's Sun had yet another picture that someone from church was nice enough to clip for us:

I can't get over how much younger Glory looks in these!

Pride Rocks

I'd never even been a spectator at Edmonton's Pride Parade before yesterday, but that didn't stop me from walking in it this time around. When I'd heard that some people from our church were going, Fenya and I agreed to join them, at least partially due to the irony of a church group marching in a parade named after one of the 'Seven Deadly Sins'.  My sister came up from Leduc and joined us too.

I'm glad we did. The event has come a long way from the largely symbolic one-block walk that initiated the tradition; those participants wore bags over their heads for fear of reprisals. Now it runs the gamut from humdrum supporters of equal rights like myself and this year's marshalls, the Edmonton Public School Board Trustees, to the uh...let's say more flamboyant members of the city's LGBT community.

Our group joined a number of other United Churches, and I also saw representation from Unitarians and even a Flying Spaghetti Monster from the Edmonton Atheists. The thing we all seemed to have in common was a distaste for Rev. Hunsberger's recently revealed comments about gays spending eternity in a "lake of fire"; a sign in our contingent read, "Hate and Intolerance Create Lakes of Fire". Alas, I never did see any of the infamous, "I went to the Lakes of Fire and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" shirts, or I certainly would have bought one.

Speaking of which, I was relieved that no Westboro Baptist types showed up either. There were a few inflammatory or adversarial sentiments expressed, often towards religion, but one needs to remember what causes this, and endeavor not to take it personally. Most of the spectators seemed thrilled to see us, which was very gratifying, and there was as much colour in the crowd as there was in the parade itself.

Personally, my opinion on sexual identity used to be, "hey, none of my darned business, consenting adults and all that..." but that's come to feel more and more disingenuous to me over the years. It felt good to take a stand for what feels fair and just, to allow people to express themselves honestly, and to do it in such a cheerful and colorful environment.

First Snow of the Year

Edmonton has never seen a winter where it didn't snow in either September or October...until this year. We got a little dusting on Saturday morning, but nothing to worry about. Tonight we got our first solid flurries, and of course they turned the streets into chaotic miasma of inertia which quickly divided most of the population of Edmonton into two camps: reckless death-wish jackholes and plodding overcautious obstacular types.

Trying to find a middle way like an erstwhile Itto , I got home without major incident, although I did glide though one corner on a largely ballistic basis. The radio, meanwhile, was telling listeners that the downtown was gridlocked, and city buses were struggling to get up some of the hills, and not always succeeding either.

I was still feeling the effects of having spent the majority of Saturday laying facedown on the floor, installing a dishwasher. In fact, my new boss asked how my weekend was, and I said "biblical". When pressed, I explained how in the story of the Garden of Eden, Satan always gets blamed for tempting Eve with the fruit, but it was actually the serpent, and God punished him, by making him 'crawl on his belly and eat dust'.

"And?" he queried.

"And that's how I spent most of Saturday; crawling on my belly installing an appliance, and eating three decade old dust from underneath the old one. Now I know why snakes bite so many people: they're cranky."

After supper though, I knew the sidewalks would have to be cleared, lest they partially thaw then re-freeze and turn the area in front of my house into a litigious deathtrap. I reluctantly dug my snowboard boots out of the basement (no, I don't snowboard; they were on sale and hella warm) and prepared to head outside. It was only a little below freezing, but the wind was brisk, so a hat with ear coverage was mandated. As I zipped up my jacket, Fenya happened by and asked where I was going. When I told her, she immediately asked if she could help, which made me both happy and proud; happy for the company, and proud that she and her sister are generally so eager to help.




One of our neighbors had already done half of the sidewalk in front, so in very little time, the two of us had finished the front and side sidewalks as well as the driveway. I withdrew to the house for some hot chocolate, and Fenya donned her snow pants so she could join Glory and her friend Brynn playing outside. I'm glad she is still able to enjoy simple play like that, even if she mightn't have gone without some sisterly cajoling.

As I sipped my hot chocolate and wrote this post, I was routinely interrupted by squeals and screams of unmitigated delight from the yard. What is it about snow, especially fresh snow, that appeals so much to the child in us? Tomorrow we will have to rise a little earlier so we can leave a little earlier and still arrive on time, but our household has already gotten a toehold on enjoying this season which makes up so much of the Edmonton year.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Metal-Aged Guy

Today's post will be familiar to some, as I sent it around via e-mail in December of last year. It was the response I got from this, however, that prompted me to start the blog in the first place, so I had always intended to include it. Besides, with half the household up all last night being sick (on Glory's birthday no less), it was either this or a posting called "Happy Birthday to (hugh)". What follows is an exhortation to my friend Mike who lives on Vancouver Island to cross the Strait with his 14 year-old son to see the "Ultimate Beatdown Tour" that was playing in Vancouver the following evening.

Warning: the following post does contain traces of pottymouth. Forewarned is half an octopus.
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Why should you see the show? First of all, you have a serious obstacle to overcome in the form of a major waterway just to get to the show, and I respect that, but remember that you will not have to deal with waiting for 45 GORRAM MINUTES in MINUS 25 DEGREE COLD. Damn, that was awful, I could barely remember the sensation of even having a big toe by the time we got in to the Edmonton Event Centre (formerly Reds at WEM). And as soon as we are in the doors, it is the mandatory coat check, which slows the line up AND keeps us close to the soul-chilling temperatures of the great outdoors. And then we find out that the only food in the place is the Funky Pickle pizza stand, AND because it is an all ages show, you can't take your beer out of the cordoned area in front of the stage, so if we want to beer it up (and, not surprisingly, we do), we are going to have to go and stand by the bar where Pete has at least recce'd us a sweet spot and made friends with the bartender. So, in short, at least your venue will not suck nearly as badly and you probably won't freeze to death waiting for the doors.

Secondly, the opening acts. I had not heard of either opening act, so I was prepared to listen to two sets of badly produced amateur speed metal with no sense of either grandeur or irony in order to get to Dragonforce, who are pretty cool and clearly have a decent understanding of that "take your work seriously, don't take yourself seriously" thing. so when the first band comes up on stage wearing the oversized Frank Frazetta shoulder pads with spikes and all, I'm rolling my eyes and thinking, "oh brother, 'ere we go...", when they rip into a big instrumental that not only sounds well played, but strangely familiar. Is it classical? No, more like folk music...Russian maybe?

Then it all clicks together: I am listening to a speed metal interpretation of "Kalinka", a Russian tune most famous for being the music from Tetris, and the band is called Powerglove (like the old Nintendo accessory), and they are the premier purveyors of "video game metal". Possibly the sole purveyors, but it matters not. And they are a riot: they introduce themselves and state plainly that they are here to "fuck up your childhoods"; no vocals to speak of, except the finale, and they play bits of Sonic the Hedgehog, Super Mario and Final Fantasy VII. After asking if there are any warriors in the crowd (to an enthusiastic response), the frontman says "good, because we need about 15 skeleton warriors to wield these INFLATABLE SWORDS!" and the crowd goes apeshit, "And this MIGHTY CLUB!" which is an oversized neon pink inflatable baseball bat. About midway through the set, Pete notices that frontman's shoulder pads are actually the turtle shell thingies from the Mario games, a nice detail. For the finale, Powerglove rocks up the crowd with a stirring rendition of the "Power Rangers" theme. A great time, and I bought their disc.

So then the second act comes on, and Mike, Pete and I have reconciled ourselves to the fact that the other opening act could not POSSIBLY be as cool as Powerglove. So the lights go down, the stage is black and a Finnish accent booms out "Edmonton.. are you ready for BATTLE METAL?" and from the response, apparently a number of the crowd really are. So this band, Turisas, hit the stage, rocking the Battle Metal with what I would call a significant hardness, with a six piece band, all decked out in furs and red and black striped warpaint reminiscent of the hedonism scene from Conan the Barbarian's. They've got a vocalist, bass, lead guitar and drums, as well as a crazy ass guy with a cut down violin and.. a female accordionist. I know, I know, you've seen one Finnish folk-metal band with a female accordionist (or as Mike says,'accordionatrix'), you've seen them all; and yes, she was cute; Pete compared her favourably to Sandahl Bergman in the aforementioned Conan, but I think that sells her a little short), but I am new enough to the world of international metal that it was still a novelty for me.

And this band really does rock. Yes, I bought their CD, "The Varangian Way" too, and not just because it references the Varangians mentioned in those John Ringo 'Kildar' novels. They remind me of a less orchestrated, rougher version of Rhapsody/ Rhapsody of Fire. The folk influences are deffo there (violin and accordion, hello?), but the vocals are growlier, and there are a lot of sing along choruses that would not have been out of place in a Viking mead hall. Early in the set, I turn to Pete and say, "You know, these guys would do a positively kick ass rendition of Rasputin, eh?" and he agrees emphatically, so when, not three songs later, a familiar beat is followed by "There lived a certain man, in Russia long ago..." Pete is convinced I am psychic.

Their lead singer and warlord, according to the liner notes, ran a very thin line between getting the crowd warmed up for the headliners and formally inciting a riot. "these guys up front look bored, I'm sorry to say. They are security, and it is their job to keep the stage secure. You aren't giving them very much to do, ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS? they are getting paid to do nothing, and it probably pisses them off. I KNOW IT PISSES ME OFF!! START SOMETHING!!!" But thankfully, order was maintained, even though Turisas have enough of a presence in the metal community that a number of young fans were kitted out in warpaint and furs as well.

And Dragonforce? Just an excellent show with absolutely breathtaking guitar work by the two leads. Great crowd participation, band interaction, the works. There are enough videos and the like on YouTube that you can certainly get the idea (esp. "Operation Ground and Pound") of what to expect, but I maintain that watching highly trained and skilled professionals who clearly love their work are a joy to watch in just about any field, doubly so in music, and even more so in heavy metal.

One of the guitarists is named Sam Totman, and Mike has informed us that it is a rare enough name in England that who knows? they may be related. Watching Sam onstage and seeing a multitude of Mikely mannerisms manifest themselves was just about enough to convince me, and there is certainly a passing similarity, even if Mike is about a foot taller. After the show, we ended up talking to both Sam and the accordionatrix while we waited 40 minutes for the coat check tide to subside, so Mike and I got our Turisas discs signed, and Mike got his picture taken with Sam after telling him the relativity theory. Sam wished his Dad was there "because 'e'd be all 'oo,er, family tree" et cetera, but yeah, nice guy, funny, sarcastic, and enough like Mike that I would not bet against them being related to some degree. Oh, and Pete and I read on Wikipedia that the accordionista is a step-in player filling in for the original bloke who "disappeared under mysterious circumstances while in Amsterdam." No shit.

Had I taken Fenya, she would not have been close to the youngest person there at age 10. I saw a lad of probably five riding on his dad's shoulders, wearing a Dragonforce t-shirt. And aside from a gratuitous amount of f-bombs and the occasional lewd gesture, there was nothing in the show I would have called age-inappropriate, unlike the previous show I saw at Reds, which was Gwar(!). Fenya had asked to come, as she likes the non-growly metal in general and Dragonforce in particular, and having experienced the show, I wish now I had taken her along. You have an opportunity to go and experience with your boy the spiritual inheritors of the music of your youth. they are no Iron Maiden, but very decent musicians with great showmanship and tremendous humour. It could be a year or two before another show like this comes to your neck of the woods, making your son 16 by then, and either insanely busy in the family tradition, or just unwilling or uncomfortable doing such things with his dad. I just don't want to see you down the road, listening to Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle" holding a picture of better days while a single tear tracks down your unshaven cheek, et cetera... but I think you get my point.
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Unfortunately, with the limited amount of lead time they were given, Mike and his son were not able to attend the show, but he let me know that he appreciated the heads up, and that my experience had given us both a lesson in terms of seizing opportunities. On the other hand though, I am helping some friends arrange the music for their wedding reception this summer, and since playing "Rasputin" is practically an obligation in such circumstances, it is nice to know I can spice things up a little bit, courtesy of Turisas, and my mates who brought me along to the show.