Spring!

Spring arrived. We've been hiking the mountain (thank you wee John Roberts) and walking the shore alongside the sea ice (thank you Marion) and clearing the deck of snow (thank you Noelle and Daniel), and here are the photos.

Last day of skating (and a hike up the mountain)

Some photos today of my skating buddies at the Victoria Highland Civic Centre in Baddeck on our last day of skating for the season.

The Glebe Report: a review from my old home neighbourhood

Just click on the image to read.

Aaron Schneider wins CBC Cape Breton poetry face-off

My friend, Aaron Schneider, has won the Cape Breton section of the CBC Radio One poetry face-off I mentioned in my posting about the Silver Dart weekend. Five poets were invited to write poems using "flight" as their inspiration. Five wonderful and very different poems emerged and were read to a live CBC Radio One audience, that then got to vote on their favourite poem. The poets, as listed on CBC's website, were:

Aaron Schneider, St. Ann's Bay
Joyce Rankin, Judique/Westmount
Katani Julian, Eskasoni
Mischif (Sandy MacEachern), Glace Bay
Shirley Christmas

Here's Aaron's poem, printed with his permission.

Bush Pilot
-- for Don Sheldon

You never killed anyone, yet walked away
from more ditched planes than anyone in Alaska,
because you flew where no one else would,
because you flew when no one else would.

The glaciers lay in the spaces between
the spread fingers of a granite hand,
ice spiked knuckles waiting
to see our stuff. The weather stank.

We had a picture of our mountain,
an idea of where it was,
but our choice of glaciers came down
to the only one we could see to land on.

We had flown a recon the day before
up a sunlit carpet of snow and crevassed ice
when you saw something move far below
and said, "look at this," rolled and dove,

aimed straight for the looming giant
Toklat grizzly, pulled up sharp above it,
as it reared and pawed the air, reached to fight
the roaring plane, not frightened, not running.

One by one you brought us in, six trips
between the white-outs, through windows
in low clouds with our heavy gear
and the big radio to call you back.

We climbed for days, a week, then two,
searched for a way to the shear icy tower --
inviolable, on another glacier -- bivouacked blind
where the wind sang, dug in on snow capped ridges,

tried to sleep through nightless summer storms,
climbed when it cleared. Got soaked climbing back
to camp in freezing rain, then two days more stuck
in tents, and we strung out the long dipole antennae.

You slipped in through the next patch of blue,
to the strip we flagged for your ski-wheeled SuperCub
and loaded me on. "We have a delivery on McKinley,"
you said, as we took off, "and it's not packed to drop."

We hummed into the glitter of the Alaska Range, McKinley's
buttress rising above a small flat glacier dropping to the south,
bound to the east by an icefall, to the west by a granite wall.
"Can you judge the snow -- how deep we'll sink if we land?"

you asked, as you banked left against the icefall, flew the narrow
space to the wall, left again and back circling until three climbers
appeared below and you put it down, skied up to them, pulled off
their drop, then threw off my pack and your survival gear.

The skis had sunk a foot in soft snow. "You stay here,
help push 'til I'm free, if it goes well I'll come back for you."
Two on each wing, we pushed, fell forward as you broke out
and raced for the edge, dropped, lifted, and circled back.

Heavier now, with only three to push, fully revved, we skied over the lip,
fell into the void, made lift, and rose thrumming in the crystalline air,
and I knew how much you loved this. "How much gas when both gauges
read empty"" I asked. "None," you smiled. I trusted you to ditch the plane,

but feared mosquitoes on a long slog out through boulders and bush,
or grizzly like the one we'd pissed off earlier. "Do we pass Huntington
on the way?" I asked, "friends there." "No," you said, but changed course,
saw them, standing in a notch, waving as we flew by dipping the wings.

We did land on the tarmac in Talkeetna, and taxied to the pumps to refuel.
"How much left?" I asked. "One minute," you said, and then, "Did you
climb your mountain? No? Awful to fail, isn't it?" Nearly broke, I hitched
rides south, five endless days, away from all that light in the north.

I rode with natives, who left me waiting at lonely roads to hidden enclaves,
and through the Yukon with a panicked senior, fleeing remoteness and the
Arctic Circle, as days wore down to dusk and finally to a place where night
could fall, and I wondered at how we could have flown so free from fear as

(it is believed) the soul flies out at death, freed from the gravity of living.

-- February 2009

Aaron is a writer, teacher and environmental activist. His poems have been published widely in poetry magazines, journals and anthologies in Canada, the US and Europe and have been read on CBC Radio. He has won several awards and prizes including the Word on the Street poetry readings sponsored by Atlantic Books Today, the Writers' Federation of Nova Scotia prizes for the A Best Poetry Book in Manuscript in 1985, for Adult Poetry in 1984, and Honourable Mention for Short Fiction in 1995. He received a New York Creative Artists Public Service Program Poetry Fellowship in 1977. A selection of his poems, Wild Honey, was published in late 1998. Other works include CBC Radio Commentaries, the books Deforestation and Development in Canada and the Tropics, Selection Management of Private Woodlands in Nova Scotia: a Steward's Guide, numerous articles on environment and development issues and art, photography and theatre reviews for Arts Atlantic, Visual Arts News, The Halifax Herald, the Cape Breton Post, Inverness Oran, The Victoria Standard.

The Checkout Girl: #57 on Amazon.ca sports books bestseller list

The Checkout Girl is # 57 on Amazon.ca's list of best selling sports books.

http://www.amazon.ca/gp/bestsellers/books/932474?ie=UTF8&pg=3

The Checkout Girl: back on the Nova Scotia bestseller list

NOVA SCOTIA

1 Reluctant Genius Charlotte Gray

2 Genius at Work Dorothy Eber

3 The Checkout Girl Susan Zettell

4 Ava Comes Home Leslie Crewe

5 Rise Again Robert J. Morgan

Irene Manuel: the woman from Fonthill

Sometimes the Internet brings an unexpected delight. Since my posting about the Silver Dart weekend in Baddeck, I have made the online acquaintance of Irene Manuel, the exceptional woman from Fonthill, Ontario who sewed the gorgeous wings of the Silver Dart replica.

Irene has been sewing since she was 5 years old, so when asked to be involved -- to sew 13 panels for the wings of the replica -- she was not daunted. In her own words, "I have a real hard time saying no to people... I was just glad to help these guys with their project." Irene had completed 6 of the 13 panels when her problems started.

Irene had been diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma about 4 years ago. It was low grade and contained, and for 3 years there were no changes. In June 2008, Irene was kicked in the face by one of her horses (a young but not mean horse) while lungeing him. She suffered a fractured cheekbone, a laceration and a broken tooth. When pain started in her back 3 weeks later, she assumed it was associated with her accident, but as the pain accelerated an MRI showed up a lump and a biopsy indicated active lymphoma. Irene was concerned about finishing the project and thought about transferring the work to several other women, but decided to complete the sewing herself, and worked on her "good days" throughout the ensuing months of her chemotherapy.

Here's some of what Irene had to say: "The last panel I worked on in late January was, in fact, the first panel I had sewn. It was the trial panel and initially was found to be too short and I lengthened it. In January, it was sent back for modifications but this time it was to shorten it back to the original length. I wanted to make a whole new panel, but we just ran out of time and energy. Doug had no problem with the panel but I appreciated the fact that he put the panel on the top wing where most people could not see evidence of alterations.

".... I did not take this project on for the glory nor any expectation of recognition for my contribution to the project. I was just happy to see the expressions of satisfaction on the faces of the men who had spent many years on the project. My husband, Bill, and his friend, Martin Bulgin, spent hours fabricating and tig-welding brackets, sleeves and hinges for the plane. Others equally spent hours on the project."

Irene's cancer is in remission. She will undergo a maintenance treatment regime for 2 years. She has some nerve damage caused by the tumours, which will take about 6 months to heal. But as the chemotherapy drugs leave her system she is beginning to feel her strength return and has been out in the stables helping with chores again. She expects to be back in the saddle by May and is cleaning the glue off her sewing machine in anticipation of starting another sewing project. Irene says, "When my family sees me in my sewing room, they know I'm getting back to normal."

In emailing Irene, I also learned that our life-paths have crossed. She lived in Cargill for about 10 years and worked in Goderich -- where my parents live -- and during that time, she worked at Champion Roads. She was the first women hired on the production line where she was a welder/fabricator. Every time I hear from Irene, I am more amazed by her story and by her capabilities! I tip my wing to Irene Manuel, the woman from Fonthill.

Photos: Irene at her sewing machine, and standing with the Silver Dart. I have included a sewing detail of the Silver Dart wing, taken by my friend, Marion Thompson.

Reviews from the stands: The Checkout Girl

D. R. -- I slowly got sucked into the narrative and have barely been able to put it down since. I flip from being swept away by the story to wondering what experience with which people in your past you're drawing upon for the characters and incidents in the story. It's a wonderful and exhilarating experience. I especially loved your depiction of Kathy watching Connie standing on a stool in the root cellar with "her face pressed to the light coming through a frail piece of screening." That's the kind of phrase that turns my crank -- pressing one's face to the light -- as if light were a solid reality able to offer resistance. It's physically impossible, but somehow that implausibility makes it more evocative.

C. B. -- As Marina Endicott pointed out to me about Good To A Fault -- it is very hard for the domestic to get recognized as award worthy. The world you are writing about is also largely ignored in literature. But I think you got it so right. Especially about the relationships between mother and daughter -- and a sibling with a disabled sister. I was particularly interested in the "romance" between the parents and Al's thoughts about what he wanted and what he might have to accept. I loved all the detail. At first it was like standing inches away from a Monet painting -- so much detail, hard to sort it all out. But by the end of the novel I was -- like Kathy, I suppose -- standing back and the picture had emerged for me. I thought all of the silence around the abortion and the isolation that is imposed was (painfully) exactly right.

J. K. -- I loved the novel. It swept me away. Not at first, but that happened with The Tin Drum also -- but as it went. I thought the elements of the senses, of sexuality, of physicality were very strong and real. I saw and felt the scenes, even the ones I hadn't lived out.

J. R. -- I have JUST finished reading your latest work -- I loved every minute -- so reminiscent of much I went through! It's visual and sympathetic and loving and FUNNY and interesting and wonderful. The marvelous characters shall be now missed. I guess I'll just have to dip into the book from time to time to see how they are faring.

A. B. -- Well, I've accomplished nothing else this weekend except to read your book. I was absolutely enthralled! It's amazing how many places and elements of the area (Kitchener) I recognized, even though I'm here 35-odd years after the novel takes place (even Heidelberg got a mention). The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess.

M. D. -- Your attention to detail appeals to me, your characters as well. I know these people! You have captured so much of THAT TIME. Yikes! The humour I LOVE. Not too cynical... but... you have a very gentle, non-threatening way of making strong points... niiiice. The story reminds my of my own life and I wonder just how many of us have been down the very same road. It is almost eerie. Once all of my friends have read it, we will be talking about it. It is that kind of book, I think. There is a lot there. But it is not a heavy book. It is not a light book. Like Darlyn's nose, I guess -- not heavy so much as not light.

B. C. -- Permit me to rave a bit about your fine work. As with every book that I really enjoy reading, it was over too soon. The characters are all beautifully drawn from Shelly and Connie right down to Teach the slime and Doug the thug. Kathy is not at all like a character in a book; she is more like my daughter, my sister, my almost-best-friend. The scene of Al's barbeque adventure was splendid. Likewise Kathy and Connie together after Shelly's rescue. I was sitting behind the counter at work with tears running down my cheeks. Welcome to Ultramar! Can I get you a Kleenex? You sure know your humans. And to top it all off, two happy endings (job and Boston) and an honourable mention to the good Perth County Conspiracy.

R. S. -- I've now finished The Checkout Girl. Susan, I'm so impressed with your wonderful detailed descriptions of people, surroundings, behaviors! I love Al, the gentle, slightly bemused salesman, and daughter Darlyn is a treat. Kathy's family, with her mom who knows who she is (and smells like candy -- how nice), and Shelly, who makes it all real, couldn't be better. I particularly love the Stanley Cup scene, with the domino effect at the end, and Marvin included in the chaos, Shelly under the table -- dramatic, funny, terrific scene.

You made the abortion real, and I like the terrorist parallel. You described Canada in 1970, the year we first came to Cape Breton. I think what I noticed most of all was your ability to juggle and get into so many characters. I hadn't thought about it before, but that's one thing that moves beyond a simple story, and it takes great skill to not lose the story in the multiplicity of people.

M. M. -- I almost got up and emailed you at 3:02 this morning... that is when I closed your book. I worried and laughed and cried. I liked Kathy most of the time, maybe understood her more of the time & am grateful that she had the courage of her convictions. I drew my own conclusions, loved that it is a brief movie in time/history and life that goes on after the show for the characters. You made the most of few words, yet made sure I understood why people were who there were, & you made them speak to me, made them important to me. Do you miss them & continue to give them stories and lines?

J. M. -- I was traveling by bus to Halifax on Friday and as always, brought along a good book to read. This time my choice was (The) Checkout Girl. Thanks for providing me with such a good read. I could relate to this book on many levels. I really enjoyed your characters and came to feel attached to their lives. Shelly won my heart and I felt drawn to her in many ways. You created a real understanding of the many forces and challenges that face ordinary families just trying to eke out a living. I must admit, Susan, when I turned and read the final page, tears welled in my eyes. I did not expect this to happen and I cannot really explain exactly why it did. But, there you go.

K. Z. -- I really enjoyed your characters, your accurate portrayal of their "slice of life" in the 1970's, and overall your sweet story of their hardships and life's dilemmas and friendships and caring and hopes and dreams -- so human! All the time I kept wondering how you could produce such a complex piece of work where these characters are recognizable, and as I kept reading I could see that this is, of course, what storytellers do.

L. B. -- I loved your book! It brought back those anxious in-between late teen years when I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I'm not sure how you did it - but you nailed it. I'm still puzzling how the ending came together so beautifully - one of those stories where nothing momentous happens but it's a tiny moment that is suddenly infinitely important and final.

If Kathy Rausch had a granddaughter

If Kathy Rausch in The Checkout Girl had a granddaughter, this is what she'd look like. Introducing -- from Dawson City, Yukon -- Mackenzie Lynn Westland Watt, our budding hockey player. Go, Mackenzie, go!

For a video delight of our Mackenzie skating go to:

http://www.myfamily.com/shares/?aid=SZLPnnyyC6AbhCdCRfqwkg

For a sweet song for all daughters/granddaughters, listen to Louden Wainwright III: That's my daughter in the water...