If i was three years old i would laugh at the sound of laughter. I would ask for milk and have it handed to me in a spill-proof cup. I would discover the alphabet in a clothbound book. I would run full tilt, trip, fall flat out, cry, be comforted, get up, run and fall …

My 40th Interdependence Day birthday bash featured a pedal-powered sound system, firespinners and dj’s and bicycles with flaming wheels.  I’ve celebrated on Mt. Elfinstone and in Horsefly and on a glacier. Last year i convened a spontaneous garden party. I might yet throw something together, and if I do, it will be fun. But i’ve …

We marched down Wall Street this morning, all dressed in black. Wall Street in East Van that is, down in the semi-industrial paradise by the port lands. A parade, in honour of the Buddha’s birthday. Two smiling black-robed priests led the procession. I followed, striking the brass inkin bell. Behind me walked a tall man …

I remember my mother as a small solidly built woman with eyes like angry blue marbles. I see her sitting at the kitchen table, smoking Matinée Lights and drinking cold coffee. I can’t remember ever having had a real conversation with her. We hardly knew each other except as adversaries.