To thine own self be true

“Begin at once to live, and count each day as a separate life.”

–Jim Goodwin

this is a highly-recommended, good collection saluting his half-century of doing the B.C. strip (1958-2006). Who can forget B.C., self-styled genius Peter, inventor Thor, ichthyologist Clumsy Carp, sarcastic Curtis, superstitious poet Wiley, Fat Broad, and Cute Chick? Hart also co-authored The Wizard of Id witty strip.

My family were fans going back to the 1950s. In gr. 8, my friend ‘Zeke’ (Keith Enns) and I had a fetish for drawing the anteater and drew it on our white sweatshirts, even wearing them to school. I can still sort of draw the same image we put on our sweatshirts in 1962:

Begun in the 1980s and still going strong–The Prairie Journal edited by Anne Burke in Calgary. Both online and original magazine format. All genres. Highly recommended.

(3 current guitars: left to right: electric Rickenbacker 12-string, Marr-Mackenzie 6-string acoustic, and 6-string electric Gibson ES-335TD. Not shown here: my SR 16 drum-rhythm machine.)

I began performing for audiences in 1965 and ended in the 2000s. (Last gigs were my school’s grad at the Convention Centre and a fall noonhr. show in Gold Bar Park.)

Overall performances for thousands include operettas, musicals, folk-solo gigs, folk-duos, folk-groups, rock-groups, teacher-bands, and, memorably, Fudge (with Ken Klause).

There were also well over 20 personal songs that were demo-ed thanks to the amazing vital assistance and playing/recording knowledge of high-school buddy Wayne Fraser (we go back to 1965).

Some bands and gigs:

(played with Betty Plus Four, Cold Lake area 1974-75)

(numerous teacher gigs at Scona, 1986-2002)

(Ken Klause, music teacher, and I started Fudge in 1990 at Scona; Ken Kulka later played lead guitar with us)

(but ‘it all began’ in high school: above, musical of Brigadoon–me carried as serving tray– my impromptu idea picked up by music teacher Barry Anderson, and 2 Gilbert and Sullivan operettas)

(above, relaxing at one of many Scona teacher stags that I and Fudge played at; below: Don Richards–one of many singing Scona teacher partners)

(gr. 12, early 1967 as the Marlon Brando-ish Usher with red handkerchief in Trial by Jury)

(early 1966: at one of the high-school cast parties improving The Animals’ “I’m Mad” with hilarious Ed Greene on vocals and Eric Crone on harmonica)

(1975 Xmas Lit, McNally High; mustachio-ed and bewigged, doing “Takin’ Care of Business”)

(with the first student-membered folk-rock group I put together in the late ’70s at McNally; with girl singer; we are doing Dylan tunes)

(1975: Betty Plus Four: the long-haired days, when I started teaching in Grand Centre/Cold Lake area; I have always played rhythm guitar and sung lead vocals for material spanning the 1950s, ’60s, ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s)

(1990s: one of numerous stag musical entertainments fronted by me and Ken Klause–keyboard)

(1969, YMHA or CA, Winnipeg” Clover, with high-school friends Wayne–left of me, and Chris Harman–right of me, now a gynecologist in Poe’s Baltimore, on backup vocals)

(early ’80s, Calgary; demo CD hi-jinks with Wayne)

(one of the Calgary aggregations; with Ward, Wayne’s cousin; another with old Edmonton drummer-friend Murray Smith)

(early Fudge gig in Scona hallway, noonhr.; kids donated to shamelessly-open guitar case; my student-teacher on my right, Jeff Goldie, a frequent back-up singer on my left); cue cards left over from 60 Minutes Live from Loon River, a Fringe show I co-wrote)

(above: March 1993; the Fudge shows were well-attended up to 2002’s finale at the Convention Centre; we even got Examiner coverage twice)

(my Dylan days, 1965, when I fell under the influence of Dylan and performed many of his songs in early shows)

(1968-69: as I appeared then, with my Gibson, in my first folk trio with Ian Gardner, bass–later he played with Burton Cummings, and Glenn Hall, lead guitar–later an avant-garde T.O. saxophonist)

(the Scona Room gigs of the ’90s were ‘big deals’; here, we’re likely doing “The Sultans of Swing” with Kulka playing letter-perfect lead guitar solo)

(in the ’90s, reading at Harry Ainlay School coffee-house event backed by the legendary Tommy Banks Trio; Tommy on left, me on right standing at mike)

Including 60 textbooks and teacher’s guides (over 1 million sold as of 2005), several chapbooks, over 100 magazine publications (U.S. and Canadian), many contest winners, several contest judgings, blog entries (2 blogs, 15 yrs. total), hundreds of readings and in-services, plus the completed, but unpublished projects including Inside E-Media, Hamlet: The Magazine, an anthology of short stories (gr. 9), and an anthology of modern drama.

RD: “Looking back, I was very lucky and I knew it.”

‘Word’ and poetry moments:

(definitely an influence)

(back of one of my chapbooks)

(starting up with Spiritus, performance poetry trio)

(first memorable publication: of an article on Canadian literature)

(the textbook career: 1980-2007, began with this title for general/non-academic courses; books were illustrated by Alligator Pie‘s Frank Newfeld and edited by Toronto friend Anthony Luengo who later also edited the Nelson Canadian Writer’s Handbook)

(even did writer’s handbooks beginning with this one)

(poetry readings continue to today; here at CBC Edmonton, Edmonton Centre)

(you have to read to write; lately, Virginia Woolf has been an influence)

(Cohen, Dylan , and The Beats were other influences)

(teaching sr. high English for 30 years inspired poems)

(Brian Kells, gr. 11 teacher, introduced me to Robert Frost’s poems; he also read the 1st poems I wrote in university; we’re still in touch today)

(in an Edmonton cafe)

(poet at large, Victoria)

(wild reading with Spiritus around 1990 at Woodward’s Books, Southgate, Edmonton)

(wrote my 1st humorous pieces in gr. 9 (above, yearbook staff); later wrote for sr. high newspaper, The Huskian; but long before that, my bio story broke up my gr. 2 class at Bannatyne school, 1958 A.D.–made me more audience-conscious)

(with close writing partner Glen Kirkland in the early ’80s; my 1st books were with him and he showed me how to write good free-verse poetry; after 2000, I worked with the equally-talented, friend Jerry Wowk)

(my new, forthcoming chapbook out in 2021)

Latest publications: a poem in the 2020 Stroll of Poets Anthology and 4 poems for Prairie Journal this month, two online, two in the magazine version. And I still continue to publish creative works (poetry and prose) and non-fictional prose online on this blog.

My 30-year teaching career as a senior high English teacher almost did not happen.

That fall, I was student-teaching in round 1 at a jr. high school, Spruce Avenue Junior High in the north part of Edmonton. The first batch of writing assignments I took in were horrific: a ridiculous no. of spelling and grammatical errors. ‘Twas very discouraging. Plus some run-ins with kids who were more like animals than human beings.

I vowed I would quit and one evening during the round I was at the Ed Bldg. and happened to run into my ED CI prof Glenn Martin and he talked to me, in an attempt to convince to stick with the round. He said it was worth waiting for the 2nd (sr. high) round in the spring and I trusted him so I hung in.

He was right. In the sr. high round, I had an encouraging, humorous teacher from Aus, Bill Corcoran (who later studied with Martin, then returning to Aus where he later taught u there). And the kids were better, smarter, had fewer errors in their work, and were more civil. I taught 30s Death of a Salesman and 33s– I Never Sang for My Father, and that level of work was clearly more of what I had envisioned when I went into that year of Education after my B.A.

Glenn’s letter (below) opened the door for my first interviews in town and easily got me my first teaching job in the Grand Centre-Cold Lake area in Sept. 1972. We remained close friends and I was, as he told me, the only contact who sent him an Xmas card every year right into the 2000s. (I always remember him at this time of year.) He would often phone me, when least expected, to discuss Emily Dickinson or Robert Frost, and he helped to mentor me into classical music as I drove and accompanied him to ESO Saturday night shows (on his dime), preceded by dinners on him at a popular local Italian restaurant where he was well-known. I am grateful to Glenn for all he did for me and I gave the eulogy at his funeral later.

It amazes me that it took this long for somebody–in this case, 2 Canadian women filmmakers–to finally acknowledge and pay tribute to famous, popular folk singer Gordon Lightfoot and his life, performing career, and major body of work.

They have done an excellent job in bringing to fans’ attention many unknown and missing parts as well as forgotten moments from Lightfoot’s life and performances. The viewer sees Lightfoot as a child in his hometown of Orillia, as a performer starting out in CBC’s Country Hoedown, as part of a duo, and as part of a big band orchestra singing and playing drums.

Lightfoot is shown in ’60s Toronto playing at the Riverboat and in other venues such as Massey Hall over 6 decades. Likewise, there is an eclectic mix of performance clips from early television shows, U.S. shows, and off-stage interviews and ad-libbed behaviors.

The documentary approximates a chronological order, but is not afraid to dip back into the past for key and telling episodes such as his relationships with women. It also memorably begins with an 80-ish Lightfoot (looking in rough shape, but more than mentally intact) and his present wife watching him sing “For Lovin’ Me” on a big screen tv, then him ordering it to be turned off because of its blatant ’60s chauvinism.

This is a film, though, that contextualizes everything about him including via comments by old performer-friends Bob Dylan, Ian and Sylvia, Ronnie Hawkins, and many others–all showing the ravages of time. This could very well be the last time we see Lightfoot and many of these people, some of whom are already dead like Elvis, who covered “Early Morning Rain”. (In passing, we hear of Frank Sinatra’s failed recording session with trying to do “If You Could Read My Mind”–his verdict: “too long”).

All the classic songs are included with highlighted segments on “Early Morning Rain”, “Sundown”, “The Canadian Railroad Trilogy”, “Song for a Winter’s Night”, “Don Quixote”, “The Circle Is Small”, and “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. There are even about 4 rarities including a live “Spin, Spin, Spin”, now a collectors’ coveted 45 rpm. Notable other songs excerpted: “For Lovin’ Me” (duet with Johnny Cash) ,”Steel Rail Blues”, “Beautiful”, “Pussywillows, Cat-Tails”, “Boss Man”, “Did She Mention My Name”, “Cotton Jenny” (with Anne Murray), and “Shadows”.

There are also segments on the many artists who covered Lightfoot’s material from Neil Young to Glen Campbell. When you sell 10 million records of your own, your songs get well-known and covered by many other notable performers, Sinatra excepted.

Finally, I have to comment on two of the strong suits of this tribute. 1) Lightfoot is presented, warts and all (including as a perfectionist, recovered alcoholic, and womanizer) and 2) he is shown performing from pre-school age to 80. The directors have skillfully dipped into different shows from T.O. days to Massey Hall shows to television and live-stage performances. The viewer sees Lightfoot at a wide range of ages, not just in chronological order. This effect underlines the essential Lightfoot, regardless of age or contexts, in the clips.

Lightfoot’s own appraisal is that he was gifted and knows it. There is more confident pride in that appraisal than bragging. He considers himself to be lucky to be a survivor and still performing (as of 2020, too). He has enjoyed and still enjoys his life very much.

This documentary is a must for any Lightfoot fans, major ’60s folk fans, songwriter fans, and Canadian artists fans. Highly recommended and very entertaining. Amazing how much directors Martha Kehoe and Joan Tosoni were able to cram into this memorable 1 1/2 hrs. And a most lucky thing to have filmed this all before he and notable others have passed and gone before we realize it. Quite a worthy, deserving salute to one of the last Canadian musical legends.

ps/ the only other Lightfoot DVD– in performance, 2000:

my signed Lightfoot photo from the ’60s:

Now censored and expurgated from any Canadian broadcasts of Mel Torme’s “The Christmas Song” (“Chestnuts roasting…”).

Believe or not, context is important, and times/Christmases past have been different. When Torme used that line, he was not out to deliberately go out of his way to abuse, denigrate, or insult northern native peoples. It probably occurred to him, as he was writing the line, that the people he saw outdoors on the holidays were really bundled up for cold weather and temperatures. In short, they were wearing apparel that simply looked like what northern native people wore. In short, he was indicating how cold outside it was and reached for a metaphor expressed, also, in a word that, way back then. was not verboten in the 1940s, ’50s right up to the 2000s.

No, I don’t think Mel Torme was evil. (Trump is evil; there’s a big difference.) And it doesn’t bother me to play my old version of the song memorably and powerfully recorded by Nat King Cole with the lyrics uncensored and un-pc’d. In fact, I still think exactly what Torme meant and intended: that people outside at this time of year are and have to be wrapped up in order to survive and enjoy the season. Over and over, historical and cultural context does matter and puts things in perspective. And if people can still have the perspective to see how things were intended, then there still remains some sanity in the world, especially at a time of important peaceful behaviors and attitudes.

If there was one Lennon song that rawly catches the tensions and paranoia of our current daze, and yet praises the glorious side of human beings, it would have to be “Instant Karma” from 1970.

He well-understood and (personally suffered) human violence and still broadcast the need for love and peace as a greater, higher solution for world problems.
“Yes, we all shine on.”

I can remember, one late evening in 1970, when I first heard this classic returning home on a rather dark bus to the suburbs with only one other guy onboard, beside me and the driver, and “Instant Karma” blasting out from the guy’s transistor, Lennon’ voice filling the bus: “Well, we all shine on, like the moon, the stars, and the sun. Yes we all shine on.”

Yes, John Lennon, a musical legend writ large, still speaking to us 40 years on.