gone...

Its an odd feeling when someone you know and love is just gone. Its final.

You'll never see the character lines in their face or hear the pitch of their voice again.

Those final words that reached your ears, etch themselves into your mind like a knife cutting through your soul. Forever changed, forever damaged. Real curiosities like, what could I have done differently or what was their true meaning. Was each word chosen because time was limited, or did they just flow out of her lips on a wave of air effortlessly. Such few breaths left, the time in which they were spoken, still and quiet.

I miss my mom. Her house seems empty. The hospital where she died, a brick cage for ghosts that never seems to release. My heart alittle darker in colour and tone, sad. Her pictures hanging on the wall, now lifeless and just moments in a life that has ended.

It has only been a few day, a few hours, a few minutes, but everything is strange and different. The world is a little less yellow and green.

I look for her behind me, I ask for her sign, I want to be haunted, but she's gone. This world is now just an echo in her ears.

Evelyn Elwell (Major)

My mom was from a small town. Or what was certainly a small town in 1934…. Oshawa… my moms memories of Oshawa were wonderful. Lots of kids to play with, skating, being outside all of the time, two wonderful loving parents…. It was bliss and remained some of the greatest memories of her life. Even up until the end.

Later in life, she worked on building her bookkeeping business, proudly helped to put her two children thru post secondary education, did some traveling with her hubby, took on the role of grandmother, took good care of her own mother kitty and lived a life.

14 years ago, my mom had a stroke. And even tho she often tried to rise above it with what at the time seemed like little damage, it sometimes got the best of her.

In the last few years of her life, it made life alittle more uncomfortable.

And even tho it has been difficult, for her and those of us that she has left behind, here are the things that I will remember most about my mom….

That small town girl. She was sunshine. When she worked our family store cindiloowho, she talked to everyone. Loved it. Jokingly threatening to keep all the babies to herself…. Coming up with incredible stories about where pieces came from…. She was the kind of person that would welcome a complete stranger in… she was giving and always warm. To this day, people ask me about her… remember her. Comment about her kindness.

Her love of animals and nature. Creating complete raccoon and squirrel epidemics wherever we lived. Neighbours were mad, the animals were happy. We didn’t mind. Nuts were left on window sills, babies had shelter in our backyard. She had every dog in the neighbourhood surrounding our first store, scratching at the door at nite when we closed, expecting that kind lady with the dog bisquit.

She was proud. Proud of her grandchildren definetly, but highly proud of my sister and I. Education was a must and she did everything she could to ensure that we worked hard and accomplished something of ourselves. I watched her beam as she explained her daughter the lawyer/academic or the radio gal that loved music.

Really never had a bad thing to say about anyone. Lord knows she had lots of reasons to blast my father Vince for leaving us in such a mess in California, but she left it up to me to decide. Even when I asked for the horrific details, she allowed me the oppourtunity to meet him first when I was 21 and find out for myself with a clean slate. Then talked about her real feelings when I got home. My mom was the kind of soul that believed if you didn’t have something nice to say about someone, don’t say it at all.

Again…. She was sunshine. Its no wonder her favorite colour was always yellow. She passed away in the morning on the only sunny day we’ve had in the last little while. I’m certain she chose it.

My mom was a free spirit. And now she’s truly free.

top five Corus radio programs...

1.   Kim Mitchell, afteroons on Q107.  the stories, the guitar breaks, the lack of pretense. 

2.  Alan Cross, "the ongoing history of new music" on The Edge.  what can i say, i can listen to Alan pretty much talk about anything.

3.  John Oakley, mornings on AM640.  "I will follow...."

4.  Jeff Woods, "the legends of classic rock".  that voice.  that life experience.  he does the work.

5.  Mike Stafford, "640".  respect Mike.  respect.

(following close behind....  Fearless Fred afternoons on The Edge.  this guy has the uncanny ability to drop me into a conversation without feeling outside of it.  he has a bit of the everyman that i like...)

secret....

I have an insane fascination for mls.ca!!!

jazz fm...

cathy wanted some behind the scenes stories about the station.  unfortunately, other than the occasional meeting or party, i'm there at such an obscure hour, that i rarely hear the stories to tell.  what i can write is that i enjoy the people that work there.  kind, passionate, professional, and great lovers of music.  its refreshing.

a couple of the joys that i experience on a regular basis....

its been awhile since i've done a radio show.  the universe has changed dramatically.  now, the reach is massive.   the introduction of the net as a vehicle for sharing the frequency has changed the relationship drastically.  I now have a continuing dialogue with folks in austrailia, a facebook exchange with another fellow in argentina, an obscure note from an ex-torontonian living in china.  its amazing.  not only are we having a conversation about jazz with the great fan in scarboro or in parkdale, but we're developing followings in all corners of the world.  the community is vast and yet it still strangely feels like home.  and the amount of respect between the listener and the broadcaster is something i'm proud to play a small part in. 

the music.  of course its the music.  i can't remember anything that i've talked about that isn't based on the music.  o.k., maybe the occaissional coy comment about my daughter or family, but no ridiculous stories about the price of gas or an obscure reference to some element of pop culture that is already exhausted on every media outlet in the world.  the music and the stories behind the musicians are  enough.

brad barker.  ok, the man does everything.  part of the management, the music and on-air spaces.  the amount of hats that this man wears so successfully is indeed rare.  on top of that, if he makes me stop breathing again during our fund raising moments from that unbelievable sense of humour of his, i'm going to have to bring in some oxygen.

the live to air performance area.  this space just breathes...

thats enough for now...    others, still to come.

todays creation...

wooden painted carousel horse head....

i was given this beautiful horse head by one of the most intriguing characters i have ever met.  he had just returned to canada after 10 years away, only to be hunted down by revenue canada for not taking care of his finances.  instead of dealing with the issues at hand, he decided to let go of everything he had accumulated over the years in a storage container and head into the forest.  he had, after days and days of sleepless nites, decided to check out of this world.  disappear for awhile.  when he handed it to me i could hardly hold back the tears as i thanked him endlessly.  later that day, hidden inside, was a chunk of wood, wrapped in plastic.  glued onto that piece of wood was a lottery ticket from the Louisiana State Lottery Co. issued in 1888.  a monthly twenty dollar draw.

if i end up deciding to disappear one day, into the woods, i'll pass it along to someone else as well.

my favorite alternative bedtime hour memory...

1.  O.k., so it wasn't my resignation.  My most memorable Bedtime moment was a request show. 
Too be honest, I don't really remember when it was, I do remember that it was in the summer and it was our first of this kind. 

Somehow we discovered a mobile microphone.  I would sometimes use it live on the air to go through Alan Cross's desk drawers or visit some of the quieter spots of the station during the occaisional late night prowl.  However the true test of its range came when I decided to do a request show from the parking lot of 83 Kennedy Road.  Paul Dhingra fielded phone calls and ran the board back inside the station, while I, with barely audible headphones and a crazy ass mic ventured out into outside territory.

We were skeptical as to wether or not it would logistically work.  Was the microphone powerful enough?   Would it sound terrible for such an intimate luscious show?  Would anyone request anything?

Well, dear reader and possible past bedtime hour listener,  it was magical.  Not only did people make the trip to the parking lot to request a song (one person i remember arrived all the way from downtown near the end of the hour) but the headlights on from the parked cars in the dark, on a hot summer nite, were glorious to view.   There must have been 10 to 15 cars.  Some just curious, others completely in the moment.  A nite I will always remember.

So, there ya go. 

abbie... not a day goes by without her thanking us for finding a shack by the beach.

todays travel tunes...

On the road trip back to Toronto...

Japan "Television and Halloween",
Celestial Navigations "Space Princess"
Muse "The Resistance"
Molly Johnson "Ode to Billie Joe"

who are you....

one of the reasons i love cities or towns near water....

one of my husbands 'totally cool' pieces.

2nd favorite ABH memory

2. I've never really written about it. I've hardly told anyone beyond my friends and family about that unique evening. For an entire year following my resignation, I rarely spoke about radio at all. Instead, I bought an old crappy house that needed alot of attention, signed up for some freelance commercial voice-work and gloriously stayed home at nite.

One would think that my last show on CFNY would be my most memorable of the 3 years of my employment in the late 80's/early 90's, but I'll get to that more joyful number one in a later post.

As you may or may not know, in 1992, CFNY was going through alot of changes. Radio was going through alot of changes, it always does. The increased use of computers as programmers, a reliance on American charts for the discovery of music and the corporate structure in general began to alter the sounds coming out of your speakers. For a station like CFNY, at this time, it was indeed noticeable.

A month or so before I quit, McLean Hunters new management began cleaning house.

Reiner Schwartz, one of my mentors, who allowed me the oppourtunity to begin and build the Alternative Bedtime Hour, was one of the first to go. Of course, made sense, he was the Program Director at the time. Alot of my colleagues were being escorted out of the building. Shep left, so did Kneale Mann and Lee Carter. A healthy chunk of the frequencies heart and soul was being raided of some of its hardest workers and most creative thoughts. I was happily told that I could stay, but that that funky little free form hour of mine at the end of the shift was going to need an overhaul. It was going to have to be programmed. No more "Fly me to the moon" by Sinatra, no more Tones on Tails, no more odd little soundtrack pieces from Danny Elfman and no more Dead Can Dance. I would have to look for the quieter more established Depeche Mode track instead. I shook the messengers hand kindly and left his office. In my heart, I knew I had to leave.

Radio people will always tell you that if you give your notice, you may not be able to leave when you like. You may not be able to say goodbye. Radio understandably hates goodbyes.

Therefore I decided that no one would know of my plans until the very last minute. Ok, my now husband knew, Paul Dhingra knew and I know that Don Berns called from a club downtown broadcasting the show, but thats about it.

Before I go on, its important for you to know something about this radio hour. Not only was it an "alternative" to other late night broadcasters, but at the core of its listenership was a brilliant artistic foundation. Not a day would go by without my mailbox at the station being filled with someones' form of expression. Photographers would send me their pictures, writers would scribble down their words, musicians, academics and painters.... the volume and content was overwhelming. The Alternative Bedtime Hour became the soundtrack to many a creative persons mind. It often organized their chaos and I loved that.

So when I asked its out of work listener to phone up the station and record a personal resume to be mixed in with its music, I was not disappointed. It was poetry.

That was the crux of my final goodbye. An on-air alternative classified section interspersed with, forgive me, my favorite artists and tunes from the past 3 years of the shows existence.

"Pink, Orange, Red" from the Cocteau Twins, some David Sylvian of course, Dan Gibson, Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel. At the end of it all, I read my own oddly concocted resume, officially said the words aloud "I resign", thanked a few important folks, said goodbye and turned the mic off for the last time at CFNY. The phones rang, a strange rush flushed through my entire body that I have not since experienced again, I greeted the visitors that had parked in the stations parking lot and I was officially out of work.

I'll tell you about the crazy aftermath sometime soon. But my on air resignation is my second most memorable ABH story.

I apologize for the rambling....

3rd... o.k., you get the gist of it now...

3. Not a very pleasant show, but certainly memorable. It was around 11:30 one nite, I was in the middle of another blissful musical journey, the studio lights were low, the speakers were blaring whatever it was I had found to mix into the next tune, when a complete stranger walked into the studio. He had brownish curly hair, wasn't tall but was quite stalky and awkward. I had no idea who he was. I continued my mix and then asked for his name and with an insecure coolness asked what he was doing in the station so late at night. Apparently Brother Bill had let this complete stranger in, even directed him towards the on-air booth. Cautiously I asked if he was lost and it was clear that he was there to meet me and contribute to the show. Now, listen, dear reader, i'm cool with alot of things, but I have to admit I was alittle nervous by his presence. Somehow I convinced him that I needed complete concentration in order to complete the rest of the evening, put on a long tune and slowly walked him out, down the long hallway, towards the exit.

After questioning Brother Bill about it, (its cool... Brother Bill is the kind of soul you could never have a disagreement with) I headed back into the studio, put "Mike" the stranger out of my mind and finished up another evening of "the spirit".

Did you ever see the old CFNY studios? During my time, they were in Brampton on Kennedy Road, the second floor of a somewhat unassuming plaza with a rather large parking lot to support it. At midnight, my car, Brother Bills and the occaisional restaurant gobbler were the only folks to inhabit it. When I reached the bottom of the stairs at the beginning of the parking area, there was Mike. Mike was a soft spoken and sadly confused individual. He told me of his dreams. He told me of his dead mother. He told me that his dead mother had told him to marry me in one of those dreams. He was there to collect, me. After 15 or so minutes of his story, I told him I was married. That his mother must have confused me with someone else. That he was a lovely soul. I said goodnite, put the keys in the ignition, waved goodbye and never saw Mike again.

no words....

4. Throughout its time, the Alternative Bedtime Hour invited guests in to share in the creative building of this one hour late nite adventure. These guests could bring stories and/or books to read, music from their personal collection or just ravage thru my own or the stations vast array of tunes. In retrospect, the top five that come to mind were all vastly different from one another, which demonstrates to me, how truly wonderful this nightly 60 minutes of air time was. In no particular order, these five shall serve as one memorable moment.

Brendan Perry of Dead Can Dance, oddly made the trek all the way from downtown Toronto to Brampton carrying his own personal collection of hotel tunes in the rain. Beautiful pieces of music that still escape me, unreleased moments, and his kind and quite willing to participate spirit. Aion, which was released in 1990, played quite a prominent role that evening as well.

Steven Page of Barenaked Ladies. Wonderful. So introspective and so willing to talk about the song writing process and his fondness for Stephen Duffy. Unexpected. Warm.

Order of Canada recipient, Juno award winning, quiet, solemn soul, Dan Gibson. Dan loved nature. Everything about it. Could do a hell of a bird call. He was a photographer, cinematographer and loved to sit out on his boat with his crazy special microphones listening for that illusive loon call. I've never met anyone like him. So willing to be involved in the evening and just a joy to be around. His Solitudes series was often the backdrop to my show. I will never forget him.

Author, TV hero, major music fan, Daniel Richler. At the time, Daniel had just released his novel "Kicking Tomorrow". Richler should have created the Bedtime Hour on his own. His knowledge of what falls ever so beautifully into the nite musically, was mind melting. His was hilarious and brought a stellar collection of his own tunes to play. We talked about our very first memories as a child and all of the folks we loved to blast in our earphones.

and finally, Ian McCulloch. Some of Echoe and the Bunnymens' legendary songs will forever hide in a special part of my brain. I enjoyed him solo as well. I have to admit tho, the one thing that completely endeared me to him was his relationship with his father. His dad made the trek all the way to Brampton for the show and you could tell that they had a bond that was undeniably strong.

Odd the things you remember.