Thursday, 26 March 2015
Widow's Endorphins: Thank You One Thousand Times
Widow's Endorphins: Thank You One Thousand Times: Widow's Endorphins just reached one thousand page views! Thank you one thousand times for your support of my blog. Endorphins are n...
Thank You One Thousand Times
Widow's Endorphins just reached one thousand page views! Thank you one thousand times for your support of my blog. Endorphins are natural pain and stress relievers. Floral photography has helped me deal with the pain of the loss of my husband, and with the stress of starting a new life without him. Widow's Endorphins, or WE is a shared journey with you - in Canada, the US, Australia, the UK, France, Poland, the Ukraine, and China!
This is one of the roses which grew on our balcony last Summer. I can't find the tag. or I would be able to tell you the correct name. It is probably in the squirrel's nest, along with bits of my favourite balcony cushions.
Photo credit: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Inc.
Tuesday, 17 March 2015
Pot O' Gold in a Pot O' Tea!
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Happy St. Patrick's Day! You may think whiskey is the national drink of Ireland, yet, 'tis tea that's drunk on all four coasts of the Emerald Isle. There's a pot o' gold in a pot o' tea: golden moments, and golden memories.
My old Grandpa would travel miles every month to pick up brown paper packages of his favourite teas from his favourite Vancouver tea merchant. There was a deep smokey Lapsang Oolong, a sweet floral Jasmine, and a third everyday tea which could be combined with either of them.
We never saw teabags. Tea was made by hand, one teaspoon full at a time, in a large family teapot. The water was boiled to the sound of the second wave of bubbles in the kettle. The tea would then steep for three, four or five minutes, the leaves swelling and releasing their flavour.
The tea leaves were gently stirred before pouring. My Quebecois Mum would, "brasse le the" with a long handled spoon (it was an ice cream spoon the local gas station gave away with each tank of gas - we collected all four!). One of my sisters misunderstood, and thought Mum was saying, "race the tea", and she would eagerly ask for her turn to race the tea leaves around the teapot.
We had beautiful tea strainers, yet, rarely used them, preferring to see the occasional leaf, or flower in our teacups. One time, Grandma's sister, Ordella was visiting. As Grandma poured her a lovely cup of Jasmine, Aunt Dell leapt up from the table, and dumped the tea down the sink. She thought the delicate, white jasmine blossom was a dead moth!
Tea. It's in our blood - on both sides of the Irish divide. My grandparents were both Irish, and that's where the similarities ended. Grandma was a free spirited, Irish Catholic from rural Ontario, who often said she was born too soon, and would have been a Hippy flower child. She was happiest working in the garden, in her farmer jeans. Grandpa was born in Protestant Northern Ireland, the son of a ship's pilot and historian. He was fourteen years her senior, and always perfectly groomed. Yet, they'd sit down to a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, toast with Grandma's homemade marmalade, a big pot of tea; they'd listen to the news, and solve the world's problems one sip at a time.
That an O'Leary and an Adams had tea together, never mind lived together, must have been unheard of back in Antrim. Years after my Grandpa died, Grandma moved into her basement suite ("my hippy pad", she called it), and rented her upstairs to a family. When a young cousin from Northern Ireland came to visit, she was sleeping on the couch, and called out to Grandma who was sleeping in her bed, "the people back home will never believe that I'm sleeping here, with Catholics upstairs!" To which Grandma replied, "Wait 'til they find out there's one in the bed next to ya!"
The lovely thing about St. Patrick's Day in Canada, is that it is universally celebrated. So, whether you're Catholic, or Protestant, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, or Atheist - have a happy St. Patrick's Day, and enjoy a pot o' tea!
Photo credit: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Inc.
Tuesday, 3 March 2015
March Forth!
I love March 4th! Of the 365 days in the year, it is the only one which, when spoken aloud in English, is a declaration - a call to action! Ever since my grade one teacher, wrote the date, March fourth on the blackboard, and I heard her say, "march forth", that one sentence, translated into a personal day of accomplishments, major decisions, and new beginnings.
So it was for my friend, Beth Grixti. On March 4, 2013, Beth donated a portion of her liver to a stranger in a Toronto Hospital. To this day, she has never met the person who received a piece of her liver. Giving the gift of life to a stranger dying of liver disease is one of the most compassionate, unselfish, inspiring acts of love, I have been privileged to witness.
"It was", says Beth, "the best decision I've ever made". With the same enthusiasm she has for everything in life, she says, "I would definitely do it again. I have nothing but positive experiences throughout the entire process to reflect on." Beth, who is celebrating the second anniversary of her liver donation at a Harry Manx concert, says, "I would recommend this experience to anyone with the drive within them. I wish it was possible to donate again".
While not everyone can be a living donor, almost everyone can register now to donate their organs and tissue after death. March is Liver Health Month, and a great time to march forth and register to be an organ donor, or register others, or join the Because I Can Project in working towards a national presumed consent system in Canada.
To Beth, and others like her, who learned that people are dying on transplant waiting lists, and marched forth to give the gift of life, a bouquet of love and gratitude...
Photo credit: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated
So it was for my friend, Beth Grixti. On March 4, 2013, Beth donated a portion of her liver to a stranger in a Toronto Hospital. To this day, she has never met the person who received a piece of her liver. Giving the gift of life to a stranger dying of liver disease is one of the most compassionate, unselfish, inspiring acts of love, I have been privileged to witness.
"It was", says Beth, "the best decision I've ever made". With the same enthusiasm she has for everything in life, she says, "I would definitely do it again. I have nothing but positive experiences throughout the entire process to reflect on." Beth, who is celebrating the second anniversary of her liver donation at a Harry Manx concert, says, "I would recommend this experience to anyone with the drive within them. I wish it was possible to donate again".
While not everyone can be a living donor, almost everyone can register now to donate their organs and tissue after death. March is Liver Health Month, and a great time to march forth and register to be an organ donor, or register others, or join the Because I Can Project in working towards a national presumed consent system in Canada.
To Beth, and others like her, who learned that people are dying on transplant waiting lists, and marched forth to give the gift of life, a bouquet of love and gratitude...
Photo credit: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated
The Rose
One of my Mum's favourite songs was Bette Midler's version of The Rose. I often overheard her quietly singing it to herself, in her French-Canadian accent. Back in the days before Google, she would listen to the radio, and quickly write down as many of the lyrics as she could. Then, she would wait for hours, or even days to hear the song played again. I was working at a country/jazz radio station (a story for another day), and she called in to request the song just before my newscast. I still have her handwritten lyrics to The Rose, tucked away between the pages of a cookbook.
Surprisingly, Bette Midler didn't write the song. It was written by cabaret singer and songwriter, Amanda McBroom. Her inspiration for the song came while driving home. She too, was listening to a song on the radio. It was Magdalena, sung by Leo Sayer. She says, her favourite line was "Your love is like a razor. My heart is just a scar". As she drove home in her car, she thought, "I don't agree with the sentiment." She thought about just what love is. "Suddenly, it was as if someone had opened a window in the top of my head. Words came pouring in, I had to keep reciting them to myself as I drove faster and faster towards home". As soon as she raced through the door, she sat down at the piano, and ten minutes later, she played The Rose for her husband.
More than a year later, a friend encouraged her to submit the song to the producers of the movie, The Rose, starring Bette Midler as the late Janis Joplin. The producers rejected it - twice. It was only after Joplin's former producer, mailed the song to Midler, that the song got into the film, and as McBroom says, "changed my life forever".
Time has not diminished the beauty of the lyrics (see below)...
The Rose
Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
It's the heart that fears the breaking
That never learns to dance
It's the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul, afraid of dying
That never learns to live
When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed
That with the sun's love, in the spring
Becomes the rose
Such beautiful and powerful lyrics! McBroom says she is, "eternally grateful to... the Universe for speaking to me in the first place and for showing me what I truly believe".
Even though I can easily Google the words to The Rose, I've kept Mum's handwritten notes. They were among the last words she wrote in her beautiful penmanship. Thirty years ago, a massive stroke left her paralyzed. Over the years, she has lost her ability to speak, and sing. What she has never lost, and I see it in her expressive eyes everyday, is her infinite capacity for love.
Photos: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated
Lyrics used with permission of Alfred Music Publishing Company Inc.
Surprisingly, Bette Midler didn't write the song. It was written by cabaret singer and songwriter, Amanda McBroom. Her inspiration for the song came while driving home. She too, was listening to a song on the radio. It was Magdalena, sung by Leo Sayer. She says, her favourite line was "Your love is like a razor. My heart is just a scar". As she drove home in her car, she thought, "I don't agree with the sentiment." She thought about just what love is. "Suddenly, it was as if someone had opened a window in the top of my head. Words came pouring in, I had to keep reciting them to myself as I drove faster and faster towards home". As soon as she raced through the door, she sat down at the piano, and ten minutes later, she played The Rose for her husband.
More than a year later, a friend encouraged her to submit the song to the producers of the movie, The Rose, starring Bette Midler as the late Janis Joplin. The producers rejected it - twice. It was only after Joplin's former producer, mailed the song to Midler, that the song got into the film, and as McBroom says, "changed my life forever".
Time has not diminished the beauty of the lyrics (see below)...
The Rose
Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
It's the heart that fears the breaking
That never learns to dance
It's the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul, afraid of dying
That never learns to live
When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed
That with the sun's love, in the spring
Becomes the rose
Such beautiful and powerful lyrics! McBroom says she is, "eternally grateful to... the Universe for speaking to me in the first place and for showing me what I truly believe".
Even though I can easily Google the words to The Rose, I've kept Mum's handwritten notes. They were among the last words she wrote in her beautiful penmanship. Thirty years ago, a massive stroke left her paralyzed. Over the years, she has lost her ability to speak, and sing. What she has never lost, and I see it in her expressive eyes everyday, is her infinite capacity for love.
Lyrics used with permission of Alfred Music Publishing Company Inc.
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