The Prayers God Always Says Yes To

When you go Christmas shopping on Salt Spring, before you even leave the house you pretty much know what's out there to purchase and where to get it. Wonderful chocolates.  Beautiful soaps. Organic cheese. Wine. Vegan desserts. Fair traded and locally roasted coffees. CD's by local musicians. Gift certificates from restaurants such as the Harbour House. What a great gift that would make for someone. Did you say Seafood Linguine? Thank you Santa!

I really like the idea of focusing on edible gifts or giving experiences so that you're not adding to the garbage heap that has become Planet Earth.  On Salt Spring you go to craft fairs or visit Winter craft, the galleries or the independent little stores that dot Ganges and Fulford Villages. You buy some home made jelly. You talk to friends. Santa arrives via floatplane and then transfers to a boat. You shoot the breeze with people you know. You get a latte and chew hard on Fleur de Sel chocolate. Christmas music blankets the village. It's so easy peasy. It's almost enjoyable.

Now, fast forward to the city. I'd forgotten what it's like to be in the mileau of downtown Vancouver and shopping. It's especially bad if A) you have no list and B) you are intentionally choosing not to buy stuff or exchange gifts and C) you are overwhelmed by too many lights, sounds and people. I fit all of those categories. Not a list maker, don't want to give or receive any more crap and completely overwhelmed by excess stimuli.    I become a full-fledged Zombie and fear for my life. But, having been away from it, like an addict, I just wanted a whiff. I fell off the wagon for an afternoon.

Here are a few irrelevant things I noticed in doing so:

• The staff who work at Chapters downtown Vancouver don't actually know where any books are even though the computer says that the book you are seeking is in the Canadiana Bargain Bin. Apparently that Bin is in some mythical land like the World of Og. 

• It breaks my heart to see incredibly talented Canadian writers: Guy Vanderhague. Patrick Lane to name just two with their books practically free. Their blood, sweat, tears and souls reduced to $5. A year or two of creative, fictional intensity transferred to the page and now available to any stingy Tom, Dick or Harry for $5.  Isn't that just heartbreaking? You'd have to be a lunatic masochist to want to write a book is what you start to think. And, then your very next thought? "Count me in!"

• I was in search of a particular author. His name is Brian Payton. He's going to be my mentor at the SFU Writer's Studio. He's written several non fiction and one fiction book. In searching for one of his books in Chapters, I felt like I was on the expedition he wrote about.  

• First unoriginal thought: Christmas and coffee (Starbucks) are capitalist plots that should be avoided at all cost. When I move through the mall in a semi-conscious state, I begin to feel like a zombie or a Visa seeking missile and all around me are similar automatons as if the only ancient video game that I've ever played - PacMan -   has come to life in the humans all around me. The  programming has gone seriously wrong people. You can only really clearly notice this to an extreme after being away from the consumption junction for a few years. It's ridiculous. Stop it right now!

• Having just said that, I did see in the Vancouver Art Gallery gift shop some lovely wooden ornaments made by Vancouver First Nation carvers. Price? $13.00 They have inspiring sayings on the cards. The  proceeds go in part to supporting women who  are recovering from addiction and who probably have better memories than mine at this point or I'd remember the exact name of the charity.

• There are a lot of beautiful gay men selling perfume at Christmas. What must it feel like to be a gay man selling perfume? It's a reality I just can't fathom. Something about it makes me sad. Their wages for one.

• There is  a book out there with Clint Eastwood on the cover although it looks as if he's had a little more plastic surgery than he should have or the Photoshop touch up person was totally pissed.  The book is called Wisdom. It's full of leaders, thinkers and the wisdom they have to share based on their experiences. I flipped through that book and I thought, I want this book. I'd read this book. I did not buy said book.  Instead I bought a book entitled, The Prayers God Always Says Yes To. You mean somebody's already figured it out? They wrote the shit down. You just have to read it, stupid. Who knew?

Vigil as a Sacred Act

I was lucky enough to find a family doctor on Salt Spring.  I got in on the ground floor of the opening of a new medical clinic called The King's Lane Medical Clinic (which is a great place with a web site that I find completely offensive in its choice of colour and design.)

The office is actually a two-storey dormer style house where 5 G.P.s and several other visiting specialists who come to island on a regular/monthly basis offer their services.

An extremely gentle, small black dog greets you as you arrive. I think there's even a gurgling fountain in one corner at the back. The magazines are really high quality, one that I especially liked related to art in New Mexico. It was very pleasant and my G.P. was approachable, efficient, and a pretty good communicator who seemed really competent. What do I know?

Now, I know it's not fair to compare a sleepy little Gulf Island like Salt Spring Island to Surrey, the fastest growing municipality in B.C., but to put things in perspective, I have never in 50 years been to a doctor's office that looked like the one I saw 2 weeks ago when I was following up on something for my poor 93-year-old father.

First of all, it's a crime that any 93-year-old should be going to a walk in medical clinic but his doctor retired and he should have changed doctors immediately and didn't. If the waiting room at that horrible medical clinic wasn't a big wake up call, I had no idea how much worse it could get until I stepped into Emergency at Surrey Memorial Hospital. It's like a third world country there except they have the supplies and the expertise. Apparently in 2013 (way too far away), they'll have a new emergency as well which will immediately be too small again one assumes but in a more accommodating way.

My dad sat upright in a chair for 8 hours and then got transferred to a bed in the Rapid Assessment Unit which was jam packed with people and the gurneys were a foot apart. At one point I was standing between his bed and the bed that held a tiny little East Indian woman who was sitting up and wouldn't lie down. She didn't speak English. She was blind. She had dementia and her family wasn't there. It was the definition of hell.

He stayed on that gurney for 4 days before being transferred to an ad hoc Emergency overflow on the third floor staffed by Emerg nurses who had never worked up there, didn't have all the supplies, and weren't familiar with the unit. Some were able to hide their frustration and remain professional, a few weren't.

Finally, on the fifth day he was transferred to a two-person room where he has remained for 10 days now and  he is now being given palliative care.

I've watched my mother take her last breath. I've seen my father who was exceptionally healthy until he was about 92 and took a serious fall on one of his Forrest Gump walks, decline very quickly in the past month, and I was the overnight caregiver on Salt Spring for 7 months for an 84-year-old who had a stroke. So, here are a few insights, nothing momentous, just my own.

• You've got one life. It's yours and nobody else's, even if you're married. So, do whatever your inner voice is telling you to do even if your friends or your partner or your dog think you're crazy and don't agree with you. Stop talking about it. Do something different or put your energy into fixing where you're at. Look in the mirror. It's about you, not anyone else, especially if you're not happy. Stop blaming your wife, your kids, your boss, your parents or anyone but the person staring back.

• Real wealth exists in your breath, your physical and mental health, your wisdom, your integrity and your consciousness. All that material stuff somebody will have to clear out once you're dead, is just that: replaceable.  Friends. Family. They matter.

• You will need an advocate when you get old if your family is nowhere to be found or, like me,  you have no children, especially daughters. A lot of people are going to need health advocates when they become incapacitated, temporarily or permanently. It's a whole new area of growth waiting to be mined but requiring individuals with the highest of integrity so as not to take advantage.

• There is no such thing as "lots of time." But, at the same time, "Don't panic," she laughs as she is panicking.

• If you have yet to experience a "vigil" at the bedside of a dying person, you have not experienced getting a glimpse into human fragility as a quick route to softening your heart. Unless you die instantly, you will age and become vulnerable and fragile and dependent in some way. It's a given. If you're one of those people saying, Oh god, I hope I never end up like that, you need to get a grip. Having been at the bedside of both parents who were exceedingly healthy individuals, it WILL probably happen to you too if your death isn't sudden. Seeing someone fade away and become dependent changes your approach to your present and your future. I highly recommend it as a reality check. 

• I'm a slow learner. It has taken me way too long in this lifetime to figure out what really matters - to me - and in general. 

• Death is a very sacred time.  I would honestly feel like I had missed out on a significant part of LIFE had I not spent any time beside my parents' bedsides and been there for them when they most needed me.

Salt Spring's Newest B&B: Thistle Dew Guest Cottage

IT'S A GIVEN. When you live in a beautiful place, people like to come and visit. And, that's a good thing. It's especially good if you happen to own a palatial mansion to put them up in. Or, come to think of it, that could actually be a bad thing because then the hoards would descend and keep on descending throughout the entire Spring, Summer and Fall. I recall meeting one islander who specifically created a guest cottage so tiny and minimalist, not to mention separate from the main house, that only two people at a time could be accommodated. Sorry, love, we're full!

When, however, you live in a small space with no extra bed, then you need to have some really reliable recommendations about where all those visitors might consider staying, unless that is, they don't mind roughing it. Got a tent?

I mentioned a lovely step back in time a couple of blog posts ago called The Cottage Resort. There's also the Wisteria Guest House. which is super comfortable with unparalleled breakfasts and lovely hosts. And,here's another: Thistle Dew Guest Cottage owned by Pauline MacDonald. If cottages could write, this one would be in the running for the Stephen Leacock Humour Award full of contentious stories to tell about what it took for it to get built. But, it's done, finally, and it's brand spanking new. Maybe when Pauline named it, she was actually thinking of the work ethic of too many pseudo carpenters on the island as in "Ack, Blimey, Sweet Jesus, This'll do!"  The name is a double entendre that I really like. Thistle Dew or This'll do?

The week I was packing up to leave the island, Pauline was generous enough to let me spend 4 nights acting as if I owned the place. It was such a wonderful thing for her to do. Pure relief descended as the chaos in my own tiny space ramped up. So, let me just say, having stayed there, I do have some "cred" when it comes to describing the experience, although, it wasn't the full on guest treatment scenario since, can you believe it, she neglected to serve me a home-baked organic breakfast, deliver a glass of Port on a tray at the end of the day, or draw my bubble bath. (I'm kidding, of course!) Just so you know, she won't draw your bubble bath either. 

As the web site says, the location is really perfect. If you like to golf, you can race the deer across the street to the fairway. It's about a 4 minute drive to a liquor store (an important criteria) and the grocery store is right in the same location although drive a bit farther and visit the liquor store on island with the best BC Wine selection and staff/owners who actually know what they're talking about at The Local.  A beach is about a 5 minute drive down Baker Road, totally walkable. The iconic and charming Fritz theater named after a now deceased cat, (just ignore the no personality owner who isn't even friendly when you buy a ticket)  is about a 10 minute walk. Heck, if someone, God forbid, should die there's even a cemetary out back.

Attention to detail is what sets Thistle Dew, and let's face it, every other quality establishment, apart.Thick duvet covers. Soft, smooth sheets. Velvety sumptuous robes and socks to match. Wood furniture with a history. Stained glass windows with leaded glass snug above the doorways between rooms. Dainty, romantic bejeweled handmade curtains. A heated floor in the bathroom and a chandelier above.  A washer/dryer. Ornamental birds perches decoratively on a window sill or a ledge. And, these interesting stairs up to the loft which are awaiting installation of a handmade  iron banister.

Pauline's soothing colour palette brings an instant sigh of relief as soon as you set foot in the little getaway which can accommodate up to six people. Yes, it can do romance. Can you? But, it's also really perfect for a girls' getaway  in the winter where even  a full-on downpour  won't prevent the ability to order in a massage, attend a yoga class, take in a concert at Art Spring or while away the day doing studio tours.If only there was a Limo on island to do the touring with the bubbles in your champagne glass being your main concern.

Above the french doors is a Georgia O'Keeffe styled skull.  

If you've been out all day, maybe you've stopped in at Bruces Kitchen to pick up a casual dinner or spent the afternoon compiling ingredients for your evening meal from the island's three wineries. Add cheese, bread, farm fresh veggies and perhaps some island lamb to take back to the small kitchen if you're keen to showcase your gourmet creativity. That last sentence is directed at a man or whichever partner doesn't normally cook. It's a getaway. She ain't going to want to cook you dinner, silly! Like she hasn't done THAT before. So be discriminating. If you've never cooked in your life, do the smart thing, if you're interested in getting what you want later in the evening, and take her (depending on budget) to Hastings House or Harbour House.

A cute and functional kitchen

I just love this chair and the mirror tucked into a corner of the downstairs bedroom

So, there. When you've packed more into a single day than you normally would in three, it's time to collapse into this bed (photo by Pauline) and have yourself a few sweet, sweet Thistle Dew Dreams. There is this queen bed in private room, a window seat that sleeps one and a pullout trundle under the window seat that sleeps one, two foam chairs that make into two single beds in the loft - and one rollaway bed in the closet that would fit - tightly - in the living room.

PS: On the off season (Oct. 15 - March 15), the nightly rate is up for some negotiation but typically runs around $115.  And, I got it all for nothin! Lucky me.