Truths and Half Truths

Rule of Thumb #56

Sometimes we focus on the wrong thing, and miss the big picture.

High Hopes

Over the past few summers, Erin has delighted herself by jumping on the mower and creating a maze of paths criss-crossing through the goldenrods and lupins out in our back field.  At this time of year, the lupins are long gone and the fall colours are just beginning to take hold.

It's lovely to walk around out there, but last night I encountered this rather optimistic lil gal:

I giggled, because she had built this amazing web spanning a footpath.  I can just hear her thinking "They can call me crazy if they want.  All it takes is one big score and I'm set for life."

I can identify.  I'm a writer. 

I have no pension plan, I have no back-up, I have no contingencies for rainy days.  I am working without a net. 

But all it takes is that one big score.

The spider was busy wrapping up a fly that had zigged when it ought to have zagged, a snack to tide her over while she waits patiently for something that - let's be honest -  may not ever come.  She's done all the work, prepared as best she can.  But sure - the odds are against her.

Even so, she waits.  Because she's a spider.  And that's what spiders do. 

Anne's Birthday

Saturday we took a short drive through the hills near our home, heading for the North Shore of Prince Edward Island.

Prince Edward Island is small - 120 miles long, 40 miles wide at its thickest point, but far less than that in most places.  It's a tiny crescent nestled in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, just above where Nova Scotia and New Brunswick meet.

The North Shore is essentially 120 miles of the most incredible white sand beaches and dune systems you'll ever find.  But beyond being a summer playground for thousands upon thousands of families, the North Shore is also home to Anne of Green Gables.

Some of you have read the book by Lucy Maud Montgomery - the story of a tiny red-headed waif who is adopted by a farmer and his sister and comes to live on this Island.  If you haven't, you should; beyond being a lovely children's story, it's a very literate and articulate view of a society that existed around the turn of the last century.

As you will see if you visit the link above (and I wish you would), the Island's substantial tourism industry is largely built on two elements:  golf (this place was recently named Canada's Number One Golf Destination) and Anne of Green Gables. 

Anne is an icon here.  There is a musical based on the book that has been playing to sold-out audiences every summer since (wait for it) 1965.  I would have been 11 years old then (spare yourself the cypherin' - I'm 52). 

There are Anne of Green Gables gift shops selling all manner of Anne tchotchkes, Anne of Green Gables tea rooms, and Anne of Green Gables cottages.  Think Graceland, and replace Elvis with a red-headed girl in pigtails.  That's what she means to Island tourism.

Much of the Anne idolatry comes from Japan - Anne of Green Gables was the first English novel translated into Japanese, and it became a school text.  Millions of Japanese girls - living in a society that repressed their freedom and individuality - had their imagination swept away by this spirited, outspoken character, and "Red-Haired Anne"  became their heroine.  It is not at all uncommon to see a Japanese girl - sometimes a teenager, but often young or even middle-aged women - sitting on the lawn of Green Gables House in Cavendish, quietly weeping, overcome by the experience.

Not far from Cavendish, you'll find Avonlea Village, a "recreation" of the fictional village from the Anne stories.  It's a great family attraction, offering lots for younger kids to do, including pig races, barnyard animals, activities, concerts, and what is essentially a day-long musical play performed by characters from the novel. 

The actors stay in character throughout the day - if a kid tells Gilbert Blythe that she took a car from Maine to get there, he is baffled - he's heard of train travel and steamboats, but " ... what is this "car" you speak of?  Must be something new - we never hear tell of 'em here. " They perform in concerts, pose for endless pictures with arms wrapped around kids from all over, and generally try to make the day a rewarding and memorable experience for the families who come to visit.

The past few summers Allison has been working up at Avonlea, often playing the part of Josie Pye, Anne's nemesis.  She loves playing the malevolent Josie, although (true fact) she does get kicked a lot by kids who don't like her being mean to Anne.

But last week, the actor who played Anne all summer went back to University in Ontario, so there was a new red-head in town ...

... and how lucky were we that - as it turned out - Anne was celebrating a birthday the day we went to Avonlea.

And what a coincidence:  later that night, we had a family dinner to celebrate Allison's birthday, too! 22 years old and she plays a 14 year-old.  No wonder she still gets carded at pubs.

Chapter 15 - Eva's Story

June, 1945 - Vancouver, B.C.

Eva Carvell's shoulders sagged as she took the crumpled envelope from Paul's hand.  She recognized the handwriting as Justin's.  She knew instantly that inside the envelope was heartbreak.

Paul shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, unsure of whether to go or stay.  She looked up into his homely, anguished face and offered a wan smile.

"It's okay, Paul," she said.  "You go with your mom and dad.  I'll be fine."

Paul tried his best to soften the blow.  "Eva, it's Justin," he said.  "You know him.  He can be a little bit crazy.  He'll be back soon, and ..."

But she had already turned her attention to the envelope, only now noticing that her hand was shaking.  She opened it and read, "Dear Eva ..."

Paul, God love the poor bugger, stayed right there as she read the short letter, willing to take the bullet for his best friend.  She finished reading, folded the thin paper neatly, put it carefully back in the envelope, and slipped it into her purse.

"Paul, look at your mom and dad," she said gamely.  "They've missed you.  Why don't you go with them?"

"I guess I should," he said, already edging away.  "Look, Eva, maybe when he comes home ..."

"It's okay," she said.  She patted him on the shoulder affectionately.  "Go."

"No, wait," she said, as he took a step.  She tugged at the ring on her left hand.  "Take this.  Have it."

"Me?  But ... what will I do with it?"

"Does it matter?"

She turned and hurried out of the station.  Paul watched until she was swallowed up by the crush of reuniting familes and embracing lovers.  He tucked the ring in the breast pocket of his uniform, patted it twice to reassure himself it was safe, and rejoined his mom and dad.

                                                    ********************

October, 1946 - Vancouver, B.C.

The church was crowded; that was a relief, at any rate.

Eva ducked in the side door, avoiding the ushers who would, of course, have asked her if she was a friend of the bride or the groom.

"Friend of the groom," she thought, with just a tinge of bitterness.

She found a place on a pew far in the back and, like everyone else, rose and turned as the organist began the Wedding March.

The woman beside her leaned in close.  "Isn't she beautiful?"  she said breathlessly.

Eva nodded, her thoughts her own, and settled in with everyone else to witness the ceremony.  When the minister asked if anyone could show cause why this man and this woman should not be joined in Holy Matrimony, she looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap, closed her eyes, then stood with everyone else as the happy couple were introduced.

Neither Mary nor Justin ever learned she was at the church that day.  If Paul had noticed her as the bride came up the aisle, he never said a word to anyone.  When the ceremony was finished, Eva slipped quietly out the door she had come in and closed the book on that chapter of her life.

                                                         ***********************

August, 1971 - Falcon Lake, Manitoba

Manitoba gets hot in the summer.  It's a dry, prairie heat that sears your lungs, makes the hair on your arms feel crispy and brittle, and conjures up a nostalgia for January (until you remember how the bone-chilling cold would sear your lungs and make the hair on your arms feel crispy and brittle).

It's a land of extremes.

Winnipeg rises up from the parched, sun-baked prairie, its downtown highrises visible from the horizon.  The city perches on a land so flat you can sit on your porch and watch your dog run away for four days.

90 miles east of Winnipeg, the Canadian Shield bursts out of the earth, craggy and rugged with its granite outcroppings and impenetrable pine, spruce and hardwood forest.  The Shield is prime cottage country, its hundreds of sparkling fresh-water lakes and staggering 75,000 miles of coastline liberally dotted with vacation homes both grand and modest.

On a hot August day in cottage country, there's little else to do but sit on the dock in a deck chair, listen to the water lapping at the pilings underneath you and the loons calling out on the water, read a good book and sip from a tall, cool glass.

Which is what Eva Jespersen was doing that afternoon.

She'd come to Winnipeg from her home in B.C. to visit an old friend, Olive MacGregor.  Since the death of her huband Lars two years before, Eva took a couple of trips a year.  When Eva's plane landed and Olive suggested they spend the weekend at the cottage to escape the city heat, Eva was relieved.

Olive's teenaged son Gary was already there, and he had brought along his new girlfriend, a stunning girl, white-blonde hair, athletic and tanned and full of life.  The two lovebirds were already out in the canoe when Olive and Eva arrived, but once the drinks were poured and the two old friends settled into a conversation, she could see the canoe heading back. 

The prow of the canoe bumped the dock and Gary scrambled out, stopping to help his girlfriend.  He hugged his "Aunt" Eva and introduced the sweetie he'd brought to the cottage for the weekend.

"Auntie Eva, this is Andrea Ling," he said.

When the young girl smiled, Eva knew.  In her suddenly rapidly-beating heart, she knew.

"Ling," she said.  "That's an unusual name."

Andrea grinned and said, "Most people expect me to be Chinese."

"But you're not," said Eva.  "Unless that's the best dye job I'll ever see."  Andrea giggled.

"It's Swedish," she said.

"And are you from Sweden?"

"Oh, no," said Andrea.  "My grandfather was.  His name was Nils Ling.  We're from here.  Winnipeg, I mean.  Well, all over.  Dad was in the Air Force."

Eva nodded thoughtfully.  "She's so sweet," she thought.  Then:  "She looks so much like him.  So much like his sister Barbara ...".

Then Eva thought about Carol, three weeks from starting her final year of business school.  A rocky few years as a teenager, but the most adorable child she could ever imagine and now a mature, thoughtful young woman, and the image of Eva as a young girl. 

They'd had lunch just the week before,  Carol had been her rock when Lars had died.  No: they'd been that for each other.

And in those moments she realized that whatever ill she might have wished Justin in the past 25 years (and she'd had some vicious thoughts, for sure), she couldn't help but see that her life had turned out just fine without him.  "She's a lovely girl, his daughter," thought Eva.  "But I wouldn't have had Carol." 

And that, she knew, would have been too high a price to pay.

And finally, she was at peace with that so-secret part of her previous life.  Roads not taken were finally left to grow over and turn to forest. 

She was at peace ... but not without a sly sense of mischief.

"Can you do me a favour?" said Eva.  "Can you tell your father that Eva Carvell says "Hello"?  We're old friends."  She smiled sweetly at this adorable blonde, and thought,  "There you go, Justin;  a bird has come home to roost."

Eva took a sip of her gin and tonic.  It tasted wonderful.  Olive really did know how to mix a drink.

                                                         ****************

August, 1971 - Winnipeg, Manitoba

Justin's fork paused in mid-air.

"Eva Carvell ...?"

"Yeah.  She says "Hi".  That she was an old friend.  She's from B.C."

Justin glanced up at Mary.  She was watching him with a glint of amusement in her eyes.  He rolled his eyes at her and she giggled.  "Wasn't Eva an old high school friend?" she asked, all innocence and sweetness.

The kids were all curious, wrapping their heads around the idea that their father may have actually been young enough to attend high school.

"She was very pretty," Andrea gushed.  "And really nice."

It was Justin's turn to grin as Mary's face darkened.  "Yes, I remember Eva as being very beautiful," he said, straight-faced.  "And she was one of the nicest girls you'd ever meet."

"Bastard," Mary muttered, and Justin burst out laughing.

Over dinner the story came out.  They'd been young kids; the engagement had been an impulse; in the end, it was better for everyone how it turned out.

Four kids around the table.  Four jaws agape.  A flood of questions asked.

"Who is she?" asked Andrea.

"How did you meet her?"  Barb wondered.

"When did you get engaged?"  Kathy wanted to know.

"Can somebody pass the ketchup?" pleaded Nils.  Relationship talk.  With a table full of good food.  No-brainer.

Finally, from Andrea:  "How did you tell her it was over?"

Mary snorted.  "A letter.  He wrote her a letter."

The three girls turned as one to their father.  "A letter?  You broke off your engagement in a letter?"

Nils said, "Is there any more garlic bread?"

"I saw her when I got back.  She agreed it was best.  We were young."

"But a letter?"

"I was young.  I was foolish.  It wasn't the right thing to do.  But in the end, it turned out best for everyone."

"Garlic bread?  Was that the last piece ... ?"

It was an interesting conversation that night.  And the garlic bread was delicious.  And that's the thing.

The course of love may wind and meander. 

But you can always count on garlic bread.