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Accident, cold, and the death of a poet

Hello all,

hope all is well in your world,

things are up and down,

around here,

mom had a bit of an accident.

sprained her ankle,

pretty bad,

lots of swelling and bruising,

we iced it as soon as it happened,

and thank the Lord,

there was no break,

still it has changed all kinds of plans,

but, it could have been so much worse.

It’s been cold, snowy, and generally,

yucky (to use a technical term)

🙂

The older I get,

the older my mother gets,

the less,

I like Winter.

Getting around can be tough.

The skies are often grey,

it’s cold, it’s damp, it’s slippery.

Tough to hope in the Winter,

sigh.

I don’t want you all to think,

it’s all grey,

because it isn’t,

there are lots of blue skies,

in Winter,

trouble is they are usually accompanied,

by brutal cold.

Brrrr.

I’ve been doing tons of reading,

for my class,

as well as in preparation,

of our Lenten book study at church,

studying a terrific book by Amy-Jill Levine

and for the prayer course at Supper Club.

you all know what a fan I am of the concept of Supper Club, and of the particular expression of it, in which I regularly take part.

Lent is a time of reflection,

a time of deep thinking,

of sacrifice,

of reaching for God,

in prayer,

solo,

in groups,

silent,

quiet.

So lots of thinking and praying,

going on.

By far,

the hardest thing that has happened,

was the death of an acquaintance,

a good acquaintance,

who would have become a friend.

He was a poet,

he was a delightful man.

A man of humour,

a man of unshakeable principle,

a generous and kind man,

a friend to many,

he wrote funny poems,

he wrote poignant poems,

he made me laugh.

The photo at the beginning of this post,

shows Jack(in green), Ken Mclaughlin (also known as Neath Turcot),

and moi in my favourite shirt,

reciting poetry with sock puppets,

it was a poem about our charter of rights,

that Jack wrote,

and I had been asked to stand in for another poet

(Blossom Thom) who was working on a major project.

Now,

I am no poet,

but,

Ken asked and,

I am very fond of Ken,

and once I met Jack,

I knew,

it would be a very positive experience,

and it was,

it was a delight,

a sunny interlude,

in a pretty dreary year.

We only ‘worked’ together for a few days,

and circumstances didn’t allow,

for a repeat of the experience.

I figured, we would perform again,

soon.

Sadly, Jack passed away earlier this week,

he was in his early sixties,

he was full of vim, of life..

Last night I attended, an informal get together,

a celebration of his life.

It was sad and it was sweet,

to see all these poets and artists gathered,

to pay tribute to Jack,

to support his partner, Karen.

heavy sigh.

When I met Jack this Summer,

after chatting for a while, I remembered,

that I had seen him at a poetry reading,

many years before and recalled,

a poem he had written on pain,

and bread( in French bread is pain)

Jack was a baker as well as a poet.

and how it had stayed with me,

that it was deep and cute and thoughtful,

a lot like the man.

Farewell Jack J Locke,

rest in power.

Later girls,

BB

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