You realize that you are rushing. Not running, which would be undignified, but trotting a quick step through indistinguishable wards and hallways, scanning arrows for guidance and counting room numbers.
You turn a corner and sight a relative and slow your pace. It's a chance to read their face to know what's coming - a diagnosis written in pursed lips, wet eyes and pale skin. Did we make it in time? Is she still alive?
Entering the room after wordless hugs, you turn to the first bed but it's not her. It's never her. Hospitals rotate beds to ensure loved ones are never the first person you see. You've stumbled into someone else's private grief and back away from the stranger-patient and their family apologetically, entering your own crisis with tail tucked.
Past the next curtain and there he is, life held together by willpower and breathing tubes. Your uncle and aunt tried to warn you about what you'd see but words don't cut it. Words can't prep you for the suckerpunch of seeing a love one diminished, turned into the intersection of tubes, wires and flesh. I know, we all know, that we're going to die, that an eternal parting from everything we cherish is inevitable, but here it is in person. Mortality 101.
She's not conscious. No, she is. Is she? You peer into the doped gaze for recognition and intelligence, smiling fake confidence. It takes five seconds at most to realize words won't do. Instinct kicks in and you literally try to get a grip.
Touch is the undeniably real sensation in the middle of an undeniably unreal blur. Cold, dry skin is a solid fact. Gossamer, untinted hair is proof of existence.
You perch on the hospital bed and settle for touch. If that is settling. The moment is basic and primitive.
I"m lucky enough to be a member of Theatre by the River - a local, indy theatre company. We've recently started alternating our monthly Board Member/Artistic Core meetings with IdeaJams. Everyone brings something creative to the table that inspires them. It can be dance, food, music, a book, a sculpture or whatever.
And we had one earlier today. For my own reference - and maybe to spark something in your own mind and heart - here are some of the components from today's IdeaJam.
1) The Mad Men Mashups
To launch its upcoming season, AMC's Mad Men had these posters placed in New York City subway stations. The wide open blank space invited contributions from passerbys and the mashups took on a life of their own. Participatory advertising, as I've said, is the future.
2) Rockethub and Kickstarter
Funnily enough, two different crowdfunding sites came up today. Rockethub and Kickstarter allow those seeking financial support to connect with those seeking unique gifts. It's not fundraising; it's trading. Look at this Rockethub (for our own Derek Leenhouts band Those Guys cd recording project) to get an idea of how different donation levels get you different rewards.
3) The End of the Alphabet
TBTR's upcoming Fringe play Lungs deals with a young couple debating whether or not to have a child in this environmentally endangered, socially unstable world. The End of the Alphabet, by Canadian designer-turned-author CS Richardson looks at the other side of the coin - an older, childless couple facing the inevitable parting mortality brings with it.
The quality of a fable, exquisite and timeless - Chatelaine This is a very difficult book to put down at bedtime, even when the final page is turned - The Globe and Mail
4) Star Wars: Uncut
The guys behind Star Wars: Uncut divided Episode IV: A New Hope into 15-second bits. Then they put out the call for fans to replace sections with their own versions. Now the parts have been reassembled into the biggest collaboration in movie-making history.
Some clips are terrible (and good in their terribility). Some are brilliant. Go team.
5) The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore
There are good reasons to celebrate the move from analog books to ebooks. Portability. Reduced paper use. Sometimes - though not always - reduced cost.
And there are good reasons to love and defend printed books too; mostly the 'book culture' that they bring. Books on paper are little, permanent totems of learning and feeling, physical records of the thoughts and feelings of our species. And they're reasons to gather - the bookstore and the library aren't just any retail spaces, but cultural halls. And books are transferable in a way eBooks aren't yet. I've loaned and borrowed books (usually remembering to return them, I hope). Having an actual physical object there, existing, matters. Like the difference between a painting and a jpeg.
Oh, I do go on. Anywho, this short film from Moonbot Studios celebrates the book. Tah-dum.
6) A Place Called Manitoba
One of our Board Members is doing her Master's Degree on the cultural narratives of cities. She's interested in the official stories that are sold in culture - especially Tourism pieces - and the stories that slip through the cracks. Witness the above, but watch out in case "fine English silverware catches your eye."
7) Prisoner of Tehran
Marina Nemat was jailed and tortured as a teenager in Iran's infamous Evin prison. She would have been executed, if one of her guards hadn't decided to marry her. Now living in Canada, she published her memoir Prisoner of Tehran to acclaim and recent (ridiculous) controversy.
8) Corsican Chant
I don't even know how to begin describing this improvisational, ancient singing style. They make it up as they go based on what the other singers are doing. Amazing.
9) Transitional Singing
I can't find the online content (if there is any) but there are choirs that get together for the sole purpose of providing music as someone dies; as they transition out of this life and into whatever comes next.
My first reaction, I admit, was discomfort. My second was wanting to have such a choir for my own death. My third reaction is deciding not to die <pats own shoulder>
10) Into Eternity
Finland is attempting to build the first permanent nuclear waste disposal site - a giant underground repository where spent fuel rods can be stored for as long as they're dangerous. 100,000 years.
Into Eternity is Danish film maker Michael Madsen's documentary on the project and the attempt to design 'keep out' signs our descendants will understand and heed. Because nuclear waste will be our longest legacy to the future.
***
So that was our meeting. Now to soak it all in and come up with new ways to be a socially relevant, artistically provocative and financially accessible theatre company. Plus kick ass.
WARNING - This blog post is introspective and sincere. For those who prefer edge, snark and inappropriate humour with their blog post, might I recommend the Professor Brothers' take on Bible History - classic.
I attended the Bruce Park service this past Remembrance Day and watched my father stand at attention with his fellow 402 Squadron members. Memories of services from my childhood - on bases and schools across the country - came back all through the programme. Afterwards, I realized I had never actually thanked my father for his service. That's been fixed now.
In the invocation, Major Brian Slous included these words.
"What we value is preserved by a very thin line. Many standing here have stood on that line. Many have died on that line. Some bear the wounds of having stood on that line. It is a place we are all called to stand. If we fail to stand on that line - to preserve what is good and right - their sacrifice is in vain."
The St. James Cenotaph in Bruce Park
Earlier in the week, Marc Reid from Canada's History Magazine spoke to my CreComm class about Canadian history (shocking, I know). Among other things, he reminded us that in World War I over 600,000 Canadians served and one tenth of that number (over 60,000) died. He painted a picture of trench warfare where, at the sound of a whistle, troops would climb out of the safety of their trenches/holes and make a run at enemy lines - enemy lines defended by machine guns. Seven out of ten soldiers, he said, would be gunned down in the first few seconds. They'd retreat and try again. And again. And again.
Marc spoke about how this sacrifice made Canada a nation: we gained respect from other world powers, took pride in our own fighting forces and found a sense of accomplishment as a people. Which is all very true.
But it doesn't change how stupid, wasteful and monstrous it all was. 60,000 dead, never mind the wounded, the shell shocked. And that was just one country in one war...
***
Which leads me to the subject of children.
The wife and I have been chatting about future plans - what we'll do when I get out of school, home renovations, etc. And children have come up as a debatable subject. Because she is all for them and I am not. I think they're loud, messy, time-consuming, schedule-wrecking, expensive, disease riddled. (Actually I started a blog with WJT Artistic Producer Michael Nathanson last year, debating the merits back and forth - the blog went kaput due to both of our busy schedules, but you're welcome to read Kids Versus Cats).
The subject came up over tea at Cousin's on Remembrance Day evening. My wife pointed out that all of my 'cons' have equal and opposite 'pros' - kids can be inventive, funny, inspirational, problem-solving, cute, generous wonders.
What finally emerged was a discussion of our attitudes. I am a pessimist. A depressed, artistic pessimist who thinks people are born selfish. I don't have a lot of hope we'll solve global warming or recent economic troubles - not when people in power have an interest in maintaining the status quo. And 60,000 young men died for one country in one war. Why would I want to bring anyone into a world like ours?
My wife asked me to watch the video below for her response. She's clever like that - and very, very patient with me. I've watched it a few times now. It's convincing, though I'm not sure I'm convinced...
Major Slous' words are also weighing on me. Is it my duty to be optimistic?
