Winnipeg Beach, Manitoba

Well, we finally launched my old canoe this past weekend… Ev’s been living on the shores of Lake Winnipeg for five years now (it’s the largest of Manitoba’s 100,000 lakes, the 11th-largest freshwater lake in the world, and at 23,553 km² [9,094 sq. miles] it’s larger than both Israel and Slovenia) and we’ve only been out on the open water a few times. Thanks to a special arrangement with Boundary Creek Marina, the old red Obukwin now has it’s own exclusive mooring on the island in the middle of the harbor, allowing effortless access. (For any friends in the area—if you care to use the canoe, just drop by Ev’s first for the padlock key and paddles—access to the island is across the dock-bridge you can see in the photo above).

Amazing as it may sound, our canoe seems to be the only human-powered vessel in the harbor… among the hundreds of yachts, cabin cruisers, sea-doos, and commercial fishing boats. As we sipped a cool beverage on the yacht-club deck on Sunday, I’ll admit we felt a little smug—we couldn’t help but overhear the party beside us discussing the cost of the 600 liters of fuel they had just pumped into their own cabin cruiser.

“Everyone must believe in something. I believe I’ll go canoeing.”

Manitoba, Canada

Well, another day of tornado touch-downs in our northern province… the weather patterns have clearly changed here over the past few years, and it now feels more and more like Kansas (look out Dorothy). Local weather over the past six weeks has been rife with tornado-watch advisories (e.g. as I write this), warnings, and documented incidents… catch a drive-by video of last year’s F5 tornado at Elie, Manitoba here or here (the latter shot by Hutterites from a nearby colony).

from www.samwreimer.com… (launched to promote bard and book)

Well, here it is at long last “warts and all”— Sam W. Reimer’s Gray Matter Graffitti: remnants of collections lost… an early gallery from some alleyways & other by-ways. This initial collection of some 200 original written works (of which only a handful have previously seen the light of day) draws from a prodigious assemblage penned during four decades of expressive poetic ideation—as the book title suggests, these poems have percolated in the bard’s brain long enough—they’re good and ripe by now and ready to be read by all.

Sam’s poems provide a plaintive voice for our tempestuous times—his unique commentaries on life and love (and love-lost ennui) are at once poignant, unapologetically direct, and (often) edged with the tragic—his ponderings range from the profane to the sacred, drill deep, and dare to pose unanswerable questions. Unheralded, unsung, and little published though Sam’s inspired ruminations have been in the past, they’re finally compiled, printed, bound, and available for a broader readership.

It’s our hope that as you dip in and out of this book, you do so with an open mind (which, like a parachute, works much better than when closed)… and as you read, let Sam’s pen sketch stories, pictures, contemplations on blank pages of your own imagination. The works offered are Sam’s invitation to laugh, to cry, to curse, and to reflect—on opportunities long gone and outcomes yet to come. Enjoy…

(from the Introduction, by Robert L. Peters, Editor)

Images: the book’s cover; illustrated chapter titles (poems in the 214-page book appear in eight thematic chapters).

Winnipeg, Canada

Wow… what a weekend! Rock-climbing with good friends at Gooseneck in NW Ontario (an ACC Club Climb and wilderness camping with Bettie), refreshing swims in the pristine lakes of the Canadian Shield, gardening in Manitoba’s Interlake with Ev (first delicious home-grown salads of the season!), a scorching sunny afternoon on the strands of Winnipeg Beach (interrupted by a deliciously cool thundershower, replete with hail), community fireworks … I feel truly privileged to be a Canadian!

When I arrived in this great country 35 years ago (with nothing but the jean-jacket on my back) I had no idea what a wonderful life lay in store. I continue to be in awe of this country, and of the remarkable opportunities it offers… thank you, Canada!

Happy Canada Day to all…

Winnipeg, Canada

This painting by Charles William Jefferys (1869-1951) depicts the The Battle of Seven Oaks (known to the Métis as la Victoire de la Grenouillière, or the Victory of Frog Plain) that took place here in the Red River Colony (modern-day Winnipeg) on June 19, 1816 during the long dispute between the Hudson’s Bay Company and the North West Company, rival fur-trading companies in western Canada. The fight was triggered by a food shortage (an edict prohibiting the export of food called the Pemmican Proclamation had been issued by the Hudson’s Bay Company—this was not recognized by the local Métis, who also did not acknowledge HBC’s authority of the Red River Settlement). The Pemmican Proclamation was a blow to both the Métis and North West Company, who accused the HBC of unfairly monopolizing the fur trade with this action.

The battle erupted when a band of Métis, led by Cuthbert Grant, seized a supply of Hudson’s Bay Company pemmican (that was originally stolen from the Métis) and were travelling to a meeting with traders of the North West Company to whom they intended to sell it. They were met south of Fort Douglas along the Red River at a location called Seven Oaks by a group of HBC men and settlers—a heated argument eroded into a gunfight. Though well-supplied with hubris, the HBC men did not stand a chance against the Métis, who were skilled sharpshooters and outnumbered them by nearly three to one. The Métis killed 22 (of 24) on the HBC side, including the local Governor, while they themselves suffered only one casualty. The Métis were later exonerated by a Royal Commissioner appointed to investigate the incident. Grant went on to became an important figure in the Hudson’s Bay Company after its eventual merger with the North West Company.

(It seems clear that this incident was triggered the attempt at unfair monopolization — when “enterprising” goes too far)…

Winnipeg, Canada

“She’s a virgin; she’s a whore. She’s a sinner; she’s a saint. Explore the most beautiful, most repulsive city in the world….” So reads the introductory header of the website Love & Hate Winnipeg by designer/photographer Bryan Scott.

For over 30 years I’ve had the pleasure of working in Winnipeg’s historic Exchange District (Circle spent the first 17 years on Albert Street, then moved to our current location in the Oddfellow Building on Princess Street 15 years ago)—the Exchange District looms large through Bryan’s remarkable lens.

Images © Bryan Scott: Winnipeg’s Old Market Square; Del’s Electric on Princess (two buildings over from us); [not] the ‘Toronto City Police Station’ across McDermot Avenue from our office (the signage is a remnant from movie sets—understandably, the Exchange District is a popular destination for film production).

Winnipeg Beach, Manitoba

Ev Richter (my smart, beautiful, and talented girlfriend) has been busily preparing for this summer’s 7th Wave Artists’ Studio Tour, which kicks off on the weekend of 14/15 June when “the public is invited to tour the studios and participating artists of the Interlake… essentially a self-guided tour enabling visitors to speak with the artists and view their work in very picturesque locations.” Studios of participating artists will be flying a distinctive blue-and-white Wave flag.

“North of Winnipeg, take the scenic route through cottage country along Lake Winnipeg’s western shore, experience the vastness of Netley Creek and Oak Hammock Marshes, leave the beaten path for charming country lanes, and take a trip inland to Stonewall. Cover the whole tour in a round trip loop, or make it a day or a weekend adventure. Great restaurants, picnic sites, sandy beaches, a refreshing dip, inspiring historic sites, first class accommodations, and of course, an art experience close up and personal!”

More information about the Winnipeg Beach Art & Culture Co-op Inc. and the 7th Wave Artists’ Studio Tour here. See some of Ev’s work here.

Evelin photographed this evening outside her studio with one of her ceramic sculptures (The Seven-Year Itch). 

Winnipeg, Canada

Georgian Bay, the latest photographic coffee-table book by good friend and client Mike Grandmaison, has hit the shelves. This is Mike’s third feature book published by Key Porter Books. See more of Mike’s outstanding photography on the new website we designed for him here, and attend a book-launch at the Polo Park McNally Robinson outlet in Winnipeg at 19:00 on 12 June, 2008 (to attend, send an e-mail to rsvp@keyporter.com and put “Grandmaison in Winnipeg” in the subject line).

Congratulations, Mike!

Vancouver, British Columbia

Well, the long-promised book I’ve been working on for the past years with downtown-Eastside Vancouver gem-of-a poet Sam W. Reimer, (published by and designed at Circle), had its unofficial launch here in Lotusland this weekend—replete with readings at the Ivanhoe Pub (where many of the works were penned over the past few decades) and memory-enriched visits to some of the significant Vancouver sites cited in the book’s 200+ poems (parks, beaches, crime scenes, and edgy slum addresses). The weather cooperated, (as did the poet’s rheumatoid arthritis, for the most part) and we were blessed with magnificent sunshine.

Thanks to my dear cousins Sam (with whom I also shared a birthday yesterday) and Lois (also a Reimer) for welcoming me to her west-side home. If you’re interested in an advance copy of the book ($16 Cdn. plus postage) contact me here. (Active marketing of the book will commence within the next few weeks, and I’ll share further information on that as it rolls out…).

Sam W. and Lois at the Granville Island Market; “bard in bar” at the lower Ivanhoe; the book’s cover (thanks, Adrian).

Frankfurt, Germany

Having grown up multi-lingually on several continents, I’ve never really been “at home” in any particular place, and have often felt a bit like a chameleon. I’ve also eschewed (mostly unconsciously) being woven into a single community or cultural fabric. This likely explains why I live in the woods (without neighbors or a local community), yet have spent my life heavily involved in professional and global peer networks, and seem to have an ongoing “restlessness to move” and travel on a continual basis. I’ve often used the ironic quip: “If you don’t care where you are, you’re never lost.” as a truism I can really relate to. While being rootless does have its advantages (one tends to be more tolerant of others; adapting to new environs is easier) this identity struggle also brings a raft of other social and psychological issues along with it in its sojourns, including reverse culture shock and a sense of disengaged melancholia.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that I discovered this phenomena has a taxonomy and name of its own—Third Culture Kids, often abbreviated “TCKs” or “3CKs” or “Global Nomads,” referring to “someone who, (as a child) has spent a significant period of time in one or more culture(s) other than his or her own, thus integrating elements of those cultures and their own birth culture, into a third culture.” By definition, “the TCK tends to build relationships to all cultures, while not having full ownership of any,” and “develops a sense of belonging everywhere and nowhere.”

The concept of Third Culture Kids was introduced in the 1960s by Ruth Hill Useem (1915-2003), a sociologist who used the term to describe children who spent part of their developmental years in a foreign culture due to their parents’ working abroad.” Her work was the first to “identify common themes among various TCKs that affect them throughout their lives.” TCKs tend to have more in common with one another, regardless of nationality, than they do with non-TCKs from their own country—over the past decades, TCKs have become a heavily studied global subculture. (My cousin Faith, also a TCK, authored/edited the book Unrooted Childhoods: Memoirs of Growing up Global, documenting “a life of growing up in multiple nations, cultures, and language regions.”)

“Not All Who Wander Are Lost.” —JRR Tolkien (a TCK himself)

Old photos: I always had this thing for small cars (perhaps in reaction to the hulking ‘Strassenkreuzer’ Studebaker my parents shipped over to Germany); on our Stettenstrasse front stoop, my first day of school in Frankfurt.