I am not a nutritionist. But I am aware of my own gastronomic and gastric requirements. Vegan dishes are regarded by some as lacking in essential ingredients: meat. A few years ago I met a young vegan lady through a mutual friend. Little did I know when I was introduced to Caroline that she would almost change my dinner plate.
It was bound to happen. After she slipped me some publications on the wonderful world of veganism I decided to give the culinary component a shot ― with her guidance, of course.
Caroline cooked up a storm, and during the event, she gave me notes on what it was she was doing with what food items and ingredients, and what each and every one contributed to the nutritional indexes.
What a fabulous meal, that was; quite possibly the greatest I've ever experienced. This was the best part: When I awoke the next morning I was not compelled to run for an emergency food source. My metabolism is such that even if I chow down on something based around meat the night before, by the next morning I am more than a little peckish. Caroline's vegan plate somehow convinced my brain that I was not starving, even hours later.
After I recounted the story to another vegan friend he told me why I had felt so satiated: "She probably packed it with nutrients."
For some reason I've not been able to go off meat completely, even if it continues to be a small portion of my dinner plate. The issue of animal abuse is something that bothers me. What will it take to convince me to go over? No doubt I'm not alone in facing that dilemma.
As it's Victoria Day here in Canada, and another lovely day — if a bit on the cool side for this time of year — here in the great city of Toronto, I thought it might make some sense for me to post something with the name "Victoria". A few years ago I read a fine book titled Castles of Steel - Britain, Germany, and the Winning of the Great War at Sea.
Written by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Robert K. Massie, the amount of detail brought to life by a wonderful sense of story-telling is most impressive.
John Rushworth Jellicoe (1859 – 1935) was Admiral of the Fleet in Britain's Royal Navy during "The Great War" (better known today as World War I); Massie spends some time giving background to "Jack": Guys like Jellicoe did, and still do, their time on a series of warships before reaching the top office. One vessel on which he served in the late 1800s was HMS Victoria; and he almost drowned after the ship was accidentally punctured by another. When the 'bang' happened Jellicoe was in bed with a dysentery-induced 103 degree (Fahrenheit) fever. He ran up to the deck to see what had happened. Not long after he began to help fellow sailors abandon the sinking Victoria, the once-mighty battleship started to capsize. In the name of "every man for himself" the executive officer fell off the side and into the sea. As Jellicoe noted in a letter he wrote to his mother after the close-call: "The curious thing is that my temperature today is normal, so the ducking did me good."
This hull-head was not familiar enough with that Royal Navy vessel, so, naturally, I consulted Wikipedia:
On it I saw a photograph that I had initially believed to be a contemporary painting. The image has a painterly quality, making my error understandable. It is a lovely, multi-textured photograph ― taken in 1888....
Game 7 between the Florida Panthers and the Toronto Maple Leafs finished minutes ago. News from the Leafs' home base of Scotiabank Arena is not good news to hometown fans:
Panthers 6—Leafs 1
Post-season analysis, a tradition with pundits and Leafs-fans alike:
"The Leafs have some issues to address before they can promote themselves as serious Stanley Cup contenders"... "It was a fine regular season run but it goes to show you the playoffs are a much tougher league"... "All those young Leafs players have to be convinced it's important to carry their play from the regular season into the playoffs"... "It's been said the playoffs separate the men from the boys; an aphorism which required but a few games to entomb a certain club in ice"... "The facts are incontrovertible: the Toronto Maple Leafs' icebound scramblings were not good enough."
***
Time for a (flash) poem I wrote in 2022, one 'dedicated' to that special team, and, apparently, and unfortunately for Leafs fans, one lushly evergreen....
I'm standing at a spot in Toronto, a gentleman walks cautiously up to me, more by me, as if unsure about some important profile. He slows to a stagger, and emits....
"You dealin'?"
I keep my composure but give the meek gent the respect he deserves....
"Yah, I'm dealin'. I'm dealin' bad luck! Get your ass outta here."
***
I've gone solo after being with Republick for years. My first Breakaway Republick album is titled: "DEAL"
While I was visiting Toronto with a high school buddy in the summer of 1978 a decision had to be made: the right one could bring cinematic pleasure (not that kind of movie!), the wrong one could make us reel. We were teenagers, sponges, but James and I did want to do the right thing that beautifully warm and sunny day.
Outside the Imperial Six theatre — remember that? those? — on Yonge Street we stood, monitoring the colour television monitors which unreeled clips from the movies on offer.
Should we make a bee-line for producer Irwin Allen's new epic, The Swarm, or take a promised ride with some novice's Corvette Summer?
This could take some time, and it did, believe me. Deciding some years later what VHS tape should be rented from the local video store had nothing on trying to pick between two new hot summer films — ones aimed perfectly at teenagers.
Corvette Summer, starring that Mark Hamill guy from the summer before, was a pleasant surprise. It was entertaining and had some good characterizations: an order of abundant fun in a darkened movie theatre on a summer's day.
As for The Swarm? Word got around quickly regarding the cinestatic disaster from the "Master of Disaster". James and I must have known. The Towering Inferno from four years earlier was a towering achievement for Mr Allen, but his bee-movie turned on him and kicked his ass.
"... and James and Simon avoided getting stung at the ticket wicket."
Looking for canned peas. But somehow I end up in the wrong aisle: the breakfast cereal section. Look at all the multi-coloured boxes! Which reminds me of a story of when a friend of mine came into town to visit TIFF (the Toronto International Film Festival).
As per just about any month or year, in September of 2006 my cupboards lacked any boxes of cold breakfast cereal. Not even one to impress, or feed, visitors.
My friend and I would have to eat in the morning. His visiting me was cause for celebration: going out to eat. "There's a really good diner just around the corner." For the duration of this special occasion my buddy and I whirled a variation on this brekkie thing.
Later on I heard something that broke my breaky heart: "Going without cereal for so many days was tough on me."
"You should have said something! I would've picked up a couple boxes of Froot Loops."
The 1970 - 1971 television season was exciting for this then child: Gerry and Silvia Anderson's first live-action series, UFO,was the flagship.
The CTV (Canadian Television) network ran the series here in Canada, and the network's flagship station, CFTO, in Toronto, was where the dial turned to on our Zenith colour television set. My parents watched, too. It was what we would now refer to as "appointment television".
UFO was what now would be considered to be very adult material for that time. For some reason the Brits were ahead of us in some departments on this side of the pond. They would not be afraid to address matters such as a death in the family, or family dysfunction (like a marriage falling apart). Wait a minute... it's called "UFO". There was the space stuff, of course, and the show's premise of a hostile alien force attacking us could be exciting, but the best episodes were not space-based — believe it or not. "Sub-Smash", "A Question of Priorities", and "Confetti Check A-O.K." are standouts. A few years ago I watched those three episodes, along with a few others, for the first time in decades, and was convinced.
Unfortunately for the fans, UFO lasted just one season; totaling 26 stories.
Things went downhill after that for the Andersons as a husband and wife production team. Their later interstellar effort, Space: 1999 (1975 - 1977), was a big step down — mainly in the characterization, acting, and scripting departments — from what they had achieved with UFO. (With Space, somehow, any sense of fun had been left outside the airlock.)
The good news is the couple survived as separate producing entities: Gerry, after the 'stigma' of Space: 1999 and a few years of barely getting by financially — over the years he had pumped much British pound sterling into the family home but the real estate market crashed in England and he owed a lot of money in alimony — he eventually teamed up with German producer Christopher Burr, thereby relaunching a television production career; Sylvia enjoyed a long career, three decades worth, as a London-based talent scout for HBO.
Doctor Who(Jon Pertwee's first opening title version, 1970-73)
OECA (Ontario Educational Communications Authority), now referred to as TV Ontario, ran adverts in the summer of 1976 announcing their Fall scheduling of a British programme from my childhood, Doctor Who — which at that point had not yet stopped production, eventually wrapping in 1989; a twenty-six year BBC production run.
As a very young child living at RCAF Station Greenwood, Nova Scotia, I saw the first "Dalek" story; its affect on me was profound enough that I never forgot kneeling in front of the Admiral monochrome television set and being: scared!... by the BBC via the CBC. (Those panning eyestalk cameras lining the Dalek city's hallways gave me the creeps.)
Back to OECA.
Starting that September I was there in front of the tube every Saturday evening. That was my introduction to the third doctor, Jon Pertwee, and because of the network's two-year Who run featuring the time and space "dandy", he was, and remains, my favourite of all the actors to play and interpret "the Doctor". (In September of 1978, OECA switched to the Tom Baker DoctorWho stories, which had begun running four years earlier on the show's home network.)
Of special note is the classic theme tune composed by Ron Grainer; what must be noted is Dalia Derbyshire's "arrangement", an electronic transcription, really, from the composer's score paper. This theme burns into one's electronics.
While the original Doctor Who's production crews lacked today's wonderful technologies, they somehow managed to tell some terrifically entertaining stories. (So you know, dear reader, you are not imagining my cynicism.)
Every Saturday at 6pm, this then young geek, sat in front of the living room's 10-inch B&W Sony, glowing along in phase with the set's cathode ray tube. During the following week's run of high school I lost the glow but regained it again on the following Saturday. A friend told me a few years ago that he too felt somewhat despondent as a given week's Doctor Who episode's title cards came to a close. "I had to wait a whole week for the next one."
You really had to be there and then to understand.
A couple of weeks ago an old friend of mine was visiting Toronto, and as we walked westward on the north side of Bloor Street, towards Avenue Road, my buddy pointed across my bow and laughed. I turned to see what was running by my right shoulder.
Saint Laurent
Very good! That wall art must have been erected fairly recently.
Chris popped out his smart phone and did the right thing, with no prompting from moi.
Years ago, a friend of mine, an 'Interior Design' college student at the time, said to me: "You're so lucky to have that name. How did you get it?"
"I was kinda born with it."
With all this "Saint Laurent" talk I'm trying to remember if I've ever worn any apparel so marked. (Looking at this picture now I realize I'm wearing all Uniqlo.) This morning I might just visit 110 Bloor Street West. It's just a quick walk.
On this day in 2021, NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) uploaded the above video, a then 60th anniversary celebration of astronaut Alan B. Shepard's spaceflight — America's first. It was a great technical success, paving the way for the moon landings: with Shepard commanding Apollo 14, the third such mission to succeed.
Mercury-Redstone 3 "Freedom 7" launched 64 years ago today and its success was celebrated the world over, partly because the mission was broadcast/televised live, and not done in secrecy. (Yuri Gagarin's Vostok 1 flight a few weeks earlier was kept under lock and key — as per the Soviet way — till the Cosmonaut was safely back on mother Earth).
When I was a little one of five or six years of age my mother told me the story of an important event from just a few years earlier. It was the United States of America's first manned spaceflight, and the astronaut's name was Alan Shepard. Everyone had gathered around the television to witness an important part of human history.
This was the first time they were able to see a manned rocket launch. The Soviets had not broadcast to the world, or even its own citizens, the lift-off of Vostok 1 three weeks earlier, and only after Yuri Gagarin returned safely to Earth from his orbital flight did they announce this stellar and humanity-changing feat. The name of the hero cosmonaut then travelled around the globe.
Citizens of the Earth could not be made to feel as participants in a great adventure until the National Aeronautics and Space Administration got to show its stuff.
Mercury-Redstone 3 ("Freedom 7") was to be a suborbital mission: Shepard's spacecraft would follow a planned ballistic trajectory. A big arc. The Mercury capsule would be shot into space, then float at high speed for some time before Earth's gravity initiated its re-entry.
One interesting element of the mission was that, unlike Gagarin's trip, which was fully automated, Shepard would take some control of his spacecraft. While up there, free from our planet's atmosphere, he manually operated the attitude control system in order to test Freedom 7's pitch, roll, and yaw capabilities, proving them to be properly functional.
The fifteen-minute voyage was a great technical success: The capsule went 101 miles up and flew 263 miles "downrange". The splashdown took place in the Atlantic Ocean. Shepard and Freedom 7 were recovered by waiting U.S. Navy vessels. (John Glenn's orbital flight would not happen for ten more months. Two cosmonauts will have already orbited the Earth by that time.)
Alan Bartlett Shepard Jr was chosen to pilot MR-3 some months earlier by Project Mercury head Robert Gilruth. Competition was fierce amongst the program's seven astronauts. Not only were these men skilled test pilots ― as were all U.S. astronauts in the earliest days of space flight ― but they were equipped with the latest in personality types: Gus Grissom, for instance, who would become the second American in space, did not say much minute-to-minute during training, but when he made it known he was about to whisper something to his fellow astronauts they would shut up, lean forward, and wait for the expected words of profundity.
Shepard, on the other hand, was more gregarious by nature. He not only spoke a more regular beat, when he had something important to relate you'd better be listening, and if you didn't take your work seriously or were at any time sloppy in your training, at least from his perspective, you were sure to hear about it.
They were of a special breed: Shepard, Virgil "Gus" Grissom, John Glenn, Scott Carpenter, Wally Schirra, Gordon Cooper, and Deke Slayton (who was grounded for medical reasons).
I know way too much about this whole subject. Before I go on any further I'm going to execute a deorbit burn. (See?)
But first:
On May 5th, 1961, sixty-four years ago today, NASA's star astronaut, Alan B. Shepard, became a trailblazer. The world watched as his Redstone rocket sat on a launch pad at Cape Canaveral:
"... It's called Star Wars. One set alone cost twelve million dollars."
That is how I first heard of Star Wars. It was the spring of 1977. I had the Grundig stereo on in the living room and as I walked from the kitchen into the dining room I heard an on-air host from Toronto radio station CKFM say the magic words. My reaction to the announced set cost must have been one of awe ― I later learned that the movie cost about ten million dollars to make ― but it was the name of this mysterious new flick that really intrigued me.
Star Wars not only hit the marketplace, but entered our culture....
That could have been the opening crawl to my two-part series recounting my introduction to Star Wars. It all started for me when I heard that radio piece. But everyone has a different story. And already I've read a few online; interesting stories, all.
In the pre-Internet age, it was a different game.
After learning of a new and anticipated movie going into production, one had to sometimes dig to learn more than what was readily available from the mainstream media outlets. For most pictures the wait was, more often than not, off our radars.
However, do not think for a moment that pre-release or pre-production hype used by the major film studios is a recently developed tool. Films from the 1970s were following an old model but with new tricks. Promotional featurettes, shot on 16mm film, were taken to a refined state during those years. Major studio productions like The Poseidon Adventure, The Towering Inferno, and King Kong were promoted heavily while they were still in production. In the case of Kong the casting of the new beauty was covered in local and national newscasts. I remember watching Buffalo television station WKBW late one evening and seeing newsfilm of Jessica Lange on stage holding a bouquet of flowers (it was a press conference).
Who could forget watching the excellent and dynamic promotional film showing the production crew of The Towering Inferno doing their magic? Irwin Allen directing over John Guillerman's head by using a megaphone was exciting and memorable. ("Mister Newman!") Accompanied by an authoritative but not staid voice over, bulldozers dug down into a sound stage floor in order to give the already voluminous space even more fly. These promotional shorts were nothing less than recruitment films. "I want to do that!"
By the time big pictures such as Poseidon, Inferno, Kong, Earthquake, and The Hindenburg hit the screens, an educated, of sorts, audience was awaiting. And I was an enthusiastic young member of that audience, in all five examples.
There was none of that for Star Wars. It just sneaked up on us....
The forty-eighth anniversary of the original release of Star Warsis coming on the 25th of this month, and for us older folks, the question sometimes comes up: "How many times did you see Star Wars when it first came out?"
The movie made a lot of money because it was what's called "a repeater". Young people, especially, went back to the movie theatres over and over to see what was then a new thing; a high-quality comic book on the big screen.
Perhaps due to my age at the time, sixteen, I saw Star Wars, enjoyed it, and did not rush back to see it again. This was not helped by the fact that it left town after just three weeks. No doubt it was 'bicycled' to another theatre waiting for such a precious print. (King Kong had played for a full month across the street at the Big House.) Once was enough for me, however, as there were other movies to see and I was interested in many other things.
In September of 1977 I became friends with a guy at my high school who was a huge fan of the film. He was a couple of years younger — it was through a school club that we first met. Two or three weeks later, Star Wars reappeared in Barrie, Ontario, this time at one of the exciting Bayfield Mall's two screens, and my fan friend and I, with colourful umbrellas in hand, trotted off one rainy night to see again the silver screen's smash hit of '77.
I saw Star Wars two times that year: First, in July at the "Imperial 2" in beautiful downtown Barrie; then it was a tinny movie house in stunning uptown Barrie.
My favourite film in 1977 was Annie Hall. I saw it once.
This atheist must keep an open mind, always. Right now I'm reading Toronto-based author Michael Coren's The Rebel Christ (2021). I actually bought the book last October, and read its "Introduction", but my reading queue is always pages long ― meaning it had to wait in line. The Rebel Christ is more than good, even at just a couple of chapters in....
The writer quotes G.K. Chesterton: "The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried."
As readers here may have heard, members of the Christian right have been going barmy over the Reverend Coren's work. I doubt they've even read The Rebel Christ, or perhaps some have but find its reaffirmation of Christ's message of peace and love to be rebarbative.
Before I go back to coffee and reading, I must add: The author maintains a good sense of humour as he addresses certain concerns. This sent me funny....
"Personally, I prefer a nice card, a box of chocolates, and some roses."
Well folks, I have to say that The Rebel Christ is "required reading at the Academy".
So you know where I stand on Christianity and religion in general, I am a card-carrying atheist. As a matter of fact, I have the hard-to-acquire "Platinum Card". As I wrote in April of 2017, I rejected 'faith' very early in my life. "From a Dependent Brat: The Church of Me" goes into a little detail as to when and how this happened. I've not wavered since then.
Now that you have an IMF (Impossible Missions Force) dossier on me, here I go....
Non-believers and believers would have much to glean from Michael Coren's effort to set the record straight on a few matters; matters that have been hijacked and distorted by those who wrap themselves in the bible, even if they've never actually read it, to reaffirm what they believe were Christ's teachings. As Mr Coren states assuredly more than a few times in his work, Jesus never actually addressed certain issues, and if he did, it was ever so slightly. Too often his teachings have been perverted beyond all recognition: an interpretation of an interpretation, scrubbed of any chromatic scaling to fit one's already dichotomous thinking.
I would agree that Jesus preached love and forgiveness above all. (What's so hard to understand?)
This atheist has adopted a certain phrase, one heard a lot these days from non-believers such as myself: "Even I'm more Christian than many of these so-called Christians."
Final note: Travelling on Twitter/X, especially, introduces one to a lot of far-right anger, anger all too often suggesting violence. Check out a given bio and see "Loves Jesus".
Yeah, buddy, I believe you.
But I do believe Michael Coren. The Rebel Christ is outstanding, and highly recommended... take it from this "card-carrying atheist".
"Please believe me when I say that Jesus would not hurt or abuse,
I came home one day last week to find a card on my door, a two-colour card from the Communist Party of Canada. Fine, as Canada was in election mode political parties were promoting themselves and their policies... or lack of same.
This student of history, with a focus on those former "Eastern Bloc" states such as the Soviet Union (USSR) and East Germany, especially East Germany, has something of an opinion here....