Archive for May, 2010

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What I learned about Ottawa this weekend


This weekend I had the good fortune of attending the Odawa Festival of Aboriginal Culture. I’d like to learn more about Canada’s Aboriginal cultures, so I jumped at a suggestion from a friend to attend with her and her family. (Everyone — Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal — is welcome at these events.)

One of the first things I learned is that Ottawa has a campground smack in the middle of the suburbs, and this is where the festival was held.  It’s a really nice campground too! Each site is surrounded by trees to provide privacy, and there are public washroom blocks and a playground area for children. So if you have out-of-town friends stopping in to see you while they’re on a road trip this summer, this is definitely an affordable option.

The next thing I learned is that “Odawa” is “Ottawa” in native language and that there is also an Ottawa tribe. According to the Native Languages of America website,  the Ottawa tribe is generally considered to be an offshoot of the Ojibwe tribe and that today, there are 15,000 Ottawas living in Michigan, Ontario, and Oklahoma. The Canadian Encyclopedia site, however, notes “that because the Ottawa tended to settle in mixed communities, it is difficult to state population figures. Many Ottawa descendants are identified as Ojibwa or Potawatomi.”

A young Odawa Festival attendee meets a new friend from one of the craft stalls.

In speaking with some of the people who had booths at the festival, we were surprised to learn that some had travelled from as far Manitoulin Island, Northern Ontario.  But this information, also from the Canadian Encyclopedia site, provided some clarity for me:

Ottawa (or Odawa) were an Algonquian-speaking people living north of the Huron people at the time of French penetration to the Upper Great Lakes. A tradition of the Ottawa, shared by the Ojibwa and Potawatomi, states that these 3 groups were once one people.

The Ottawa were closely tied to their Huron neighbours and, in fact, were a vital part of the so-called “Huron Trading Empire.” When Huronia was destroyed by the Iroquois in the mid-17th century, the Ottawa fled west. After 2 decades they were back on Manitoulin Island, but they continued to occupy settlements elsewhere on the shores of the Great Lakes.

I also figured out why I heard many people speaking French and why so many of the food tents offered poutine (my fave food!) in addition to fare considered more traditional such as buffalo and moose meat:

They located their principal settlements near the French fort at Michilimackinac, though many migrated to the Detroit area when the French built a fort there in 1701. During the final struggle for northeastern North America, the Ottawa supported the French.

The Pow Wow is the big draw forthe Odawa Festival, which is hosted by the Odawa Native Friendship Centre to celebrate Aboriginal culture (including Metis and Inuit). In my experience, the word “pow wow” is often used interchangeably in English as “meeting,” but the more comprehensive definition of a Pow Wow is a  event where both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal North-American people meet to dance, sing, socialize, and honor the Aboriginal culture.

This Wikipedia entry describes what takes place at the opening of a Pow Wow:

A pow-wow session begins with the Grand Entry and, in most cases, a prayer. The Eagle Staff leads the Grand Entry, followed by flags, then the dancers, while one of the host drums sings an opening song. This event is sacred in nature, some pow-wows do not allow filming or photography during this time, though others allow it.

If military veterans or active duty soldiers are present, they often carry the flags and eagle staffs. They are followed by the head dancers, then the remaining dancers usually enter the arena in a specific order: Men’s Traditional, Men’s Grass Dance, Men’s Fancy, Women’s Traditional, Women’s Jingle, and Women’s Fancy. Teens and small children then follow in the same order.

And this is exactly what happened at the Odawa Festival when we were there. The music for Pow Wow is provided by a group of performers who play large, specially designed drums made from moose raw-hide and sing traditional songs. The number of players on one drum may vary, but is usually at least four people. For me, this combination of beautiful, colourful costumes with drum beat is irresistibly captivating.

Yet, somehow, the children in our crew did not feel the same. They were extremely eager to continue exploring all of the craft tents. And really, it was hard to blame them.

The crafts on display included jewelry, dreamcatchers, drums and artwork.

Many thanks to the Odawa Native Friendship Centre and everyone we had a chance to meet and speak with for a WONDERFUL afternoon!  

Photo credits: The two images of dances are courtesy of the Odawa Native Friendship Centre website.


living
family

Bike safety: More than just a helmet


We’ve had some really horrific and tragic bike accidents in our city as of late.

People have always commuted to work by bike in Ottawa, Canada’s capital. In fact, I distinctly remember my father biking to work every day from our family’s westend home in the suburbs to downtown.

But, now more than ever, we need more cyclists. The environment needs it, our bodies need it, and our children need the role-modelling.

Unfortunately, our city has a lot of work to do before it can be considered cyclist-friendly. In fact, it’s down-right dangerous to even attempt to bike in certain areas of the city. And many cycling enthusiasts, quite rightly, note that motorists are a big part of the problem.

As for me, I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a kid. And even then, it was only around the block.

My seven-year-old daughter, though, just learned how to bike this season on her two-wheeler. And wow! Kids sure learn fast. She has really mastered the skill so quickly. So much so that she has been asking to bike to school now. Despite the hyper-parenting that is a bit pervasive these days, our neighbourhood does have quite a few kids who regularly commute to school on bikes.  Which I think is wonderful.

Stella is a bit young to be commuting on her though. So I have been contemplating a bike purchase. Mostly, I’m tempted by the retro bikes with their fun styling and cute baskets on the front. (It’s all about packaging, isn’t it?) They’re not exactly cheap though and I’d hate for the purchase price to end up being used as much as my gym membership (ahem, that is, not much).

Luck shone on us about a week ago with a bike sitting on the edge of the street with a “free” sign. Sure, it doesn’t have a cute banana seat or even any cute paint colours, but it works just fine.

So twice a week now, I’ve been biking in with Stella to school and then I bike back home and do the same at the end of the day. For me, it’s some fresh air. For her, she escapes the dreaded bus ride in the heat.

The kids we see biking along the way all look like proficient bikers. And although they are dutifully wearing their helmets, I fear for their safety.

Why? Well, it seems that they have no clue what the rules of the road are. I have yet to see one of these children use a hand signal and most cross over a road without even turning over their shoulder to check for cars.

If we want to encourage a future generation of happy cycling commuters, it’s going to take more than just a widening of roads and an awareness campaign directed at motorists. We need to make sure that, as cyclists, we’re doing our part to be good citizens of the road.

With this in mind then, I’d like to share some resources for bike safety. If you’re like me, biking was from when you had a pig-tails, so who couldn’t use a little refresher for sharing with their children?

First of all, cyclists need to follow the rules of the road.

I like Ken Kifer’s site because he provides information without fear-mongering about the dangers of cycling. He notes that most of the collisions involving bicycles occurred because the bike rider did not follow the traffic laws for vehicles. On this page, he provides advice for teaching children the rules according to their age. I thought it was quite helpful.  

This Young Cyclist’s Guide on the Ontario Transportationwebsite runs through all the safety rules and even provides quizzes for your child to complete.

And just as we expect a car to signal, bikers must also use signals. Here are the hand signals for RIGHT TURN, LEFT TURN, and STOP.

So, let’s not keep our kids locked up in our back yards. Let’s let them have some fun — but prepare them and keep them them safe! Happy biking to all!

Do you let your children bike to school alone? What about around the neighbourhood? Have you had to brake quickly to avoid a child cutting in front of you on their bike?

If you enjoyed this post, please consider giving me your vote! I’m a finalist in the Scholastic Parent and Child 2010 Blogger Awards!


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media

The Joy of Reading: The Lion, the Witch and the Bathrobe


For as long as I can remember, it’s been common for people to observe that Stella is “Daddy’s little girl.” They don’t mean that he spoils her, but rather that she just loves to do whatever he is doing. And as a result, they have now cultivated a mutual passion for the outdoors that is really beautiful.

But something else that is beautiful has taken place recently. When it comes to reading, Stella is now “Mommy’s little girl.” Just as the outdoors brings a sense of inspiration and peace to my husband, this has always been what reading has provided to me. So I am just thrilled that her life now includes the joy of reading.

I’ve kept two series of chapter books from my childhood: The Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis and the Anne of Green Gables series by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Both were boxed sets, which made them extra-special gifts at the time. I have no functional use for keeping them all these years; they sit as purely sentimental mementos in my book shelf.

In the meantime of course, I’ve had a daughter. A daughter who now knows how to read. But her tastes have led to tear through Pokemon, Gerinomo Stilton and Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. My cherished box sets from youth must seem old-fashioned, with their faded covers and black and white interiors, and so they continue to sit quietly in my shelf.

But the other day, she began to tell me about a book called Narnia that she saw at her school library. “There was a lion, a witch, and a bathrobe,” she told me straight-faced. But not even “the bathrobe” could distract me from my opportunity to regale her with the book’s merits. I explained that the last word in the title was “wardrobe” and that it was a cupboard where people kept their clothes when they didn’t have a closet in their bedroom.

And then I pounced: “You know, all sorts of magical things happen in that series of books. I just loved it when I was your age. I think I may even have those books still. Hmmmm….. let me look …”

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

This is the book that Stella found at her school library called Narnia. It was published to tie-in with the film that appeared in theatres in 2005. I have not read it myself, or even seen it with my own eyes, but apparently the visuals are very appealing to children and the language and plot have been modified for the same reason. (It’s received excellent reader reviews on the Chapters-Indigo Canada website and retails for $8.99.)

The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe Movie Tie-in Edition (rack)

If you’re not familiar with series, it all starts off with Lucy and her siblings Peter, Susan and Edmund. They are sent to live in the house of an old Professor in the London country to keep them safe during the war. In this large house, Lucy finds that when she hides in a wardrobe, the back of it is actually an entrance to an enchanted land called Narnia. The first book in the series The Chronicles of Narnia is the most famous and it is titled The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. In it, Aslan, the noble lion, frees Narnia from the spell of the White Witch.

I just adore the forward that the author, C.S. Lewis, wrote for his much-loved book, which was first published in 1950. It is inscribed to Lucy Barfield, his Goddaughter.

My dear Lucy,
I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it. I shall probably be too deaf to hear, and too old to understand a word you say, but it shall still be.
Your affectionate Godfather,
C.S. Lewis 

This is what my boxed set looks like, published by Collier Books in second edition in 1978.  Each book has a price of $1.95 in the top right-hand corner. The only pictures inside each book are small black and white illustrations at the start of each chapter.

And you can still buy a beautiful boxed set too! Chapters-Indigo Canada offers a Harpers Collins Canada set with full-color illustrations by Pauline Baynes with original cover art from the Puffin editions, which were published only in the UK in the 1950s ($54.77), while my readers in the U.S. might prefer to order from The Scholastic Store, which sells  similarly lovely set of the seven tales ($40 US). Of note is that no matter where you live, the Scholastic website for parents offers a great discussion guide for The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe that you can use to chat about the book with your child as well as a Parent’s Guide to the Fantasy Book Genre.

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

I pulled out my box set for Stella. This is the Chronicles of Narnia, I explained in a hushed tone probably more commonly used for emphasis on made-for-tv movies. These are the original books that the author wrote, and that Mommy loved, I continued.

Her interest was piqued. She took the first book and tentatively flipped through the pages. Then she wandered off.

Later, as I walked up the stairs, I could see her laying in bed, nose-deep into the novel. It was past her bedtime, the teeth hadn’t been brushed, and no bedtime rituals had been complete. I quietly tip-toed back down the stairs.

She’d found it! That sweet spot. For as any bookroom knows, the big “o” of reading is when you start into a book and within pages you literally cannot put it down. It is always on your mind … you’re just dying to continue onwards through the pages and find out what happens. You’ll deny yourself food, sleep – whatever it takes – to just keep reading. Until one experiences that sensation, one has not experienced the true joy of reading.

Later. Much later. I went upstairs to turn out her light and tuck her in. She’d fallen asleep with the book beside her. And I could see there was only a sliver of pages left to be read. I leaned over and whispered, “Just like Momma,” and gave her a kiss goodnight.

I was inspired to write this post because I just found out over the weekend that this blog has been chosen by the editors of Scholastic Parent and Child magazine as a finalist for their 2010 Parent Blogger Awards.

Needless to say, I’m thrilled! If you would like to vote for my blog, just click here. Voting starts today! (It’s painless, I promise!)


family

Oh, why do they have to grow up?


When I was 13, I was blessed with a baby brother. Sure, some days I wasn’t too pleased as a teenager to be sharing a home with a “terrible two,” but just like a mother of a child, you grow to love this tiny little person so crazy-fierce. Which is often how I feel about my baby brother (and the sister who followed); as if I’m a second mother of sorts.

The reality of course is that I’m closer in spirit to a grandmother than a mother because, you the know the old saying, it was all fun and no responsibility. But regardless, when there is a gap of this great of years, you’ve been through it all with them – birth, diapers, childhood, adolescence, and now adulthood.

So you see, although he’s all grown up, I can still fly right into a “mamma bear” maelstrom of emotion. And I’ve been feeling a lot of emotion these days. Because of this:

April and Adham found me sprawled inside the wreckage with blood pouring out of my head and moaning unintelligibly. I must have momentarily lost motor abilities, as my attempts to get up pathetically failed. April says she’ll never get that image out of her head, and I don’t envy her the memory.

He and a group of travellers were just in a terrible accident in Laos. And thankfully, thankfully, thankfully he is okay. You can read the rest of his tale on his blog Adam in Asia.

Oh, these babies, why do they have to grow up?

Me, as a teenager, with my "babies."


living

On feeling itchy


Mosquito BiteOn Friday night, I went to a neighbour’s vernissage. (I like using this word “vernissage” because it makes me seem all cultured-up, doesn’t it? Okay maybe not. But I still like it! I used it with my brother on the weekend, but he didn’t seem half as impressed as I was. “Verni-what? What word are you using?”)

Um. Where was I? Ah yes, I was at a vernissage. Which is the opening of an art exhibit and it’s the fun part because the artist is there and you get to drink champagne and munch on yummy tidbits and stare at beautiful things on the walls. So, I’m standing there in a beautiful home, sipping bubbly and life is grand — except that I am itchy. Every single mosquito that has managed to make it indoors is giddily swarming around me. I’m not joking. People were actaully commenting on it. And it’s not that I actually mind the swarming part, it’s the itch of course.

This situation seemed to sum up how I’ve been feeling lately. Everything is so good — family, home, work. But, for some reason, I feel itchy. And when I look around, no one else around seems to be itching. Just me.

In trying to describe this in conversations to friends, I have wondered out loud if this is what a “mid-life crisis” feels like. But no one answers my question because they get so distracted by the term “mid-life” and feel this insane urge to convince me that I have not, in fact, hit the middle of my life. Which I think is really silly. Because, really? How old does the average person live? I think it is so delusional when people insist that “mid-life” is 50. I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan to live to 100.

In case this notion of “mid-life” disturbs you as well, I’ll use the term “itchy” instead.

I seem to have an itch I can’t scratch. And why can’t I scratch it? Because I just don’t know what it is! Where it’s coming from, or why.

Here are ways that I have been trying to locate the itch:

  • I have been scouring the real esate market. Perhaps I need to live closer to “the action” — closer to the city centre.
  • I’ve considered giving up the home office life and working for someone else (other than my clients!). Maybe I need back into the daily action of office life?
  • I’ve bought myself an entirely new spring wardrobe thinking that I just needed “a little lift.” At least the salespeople’s commission cheques won’t be itchy!
  • I’ve even bought myself a new MAC lipstick.

And still?

Itchy.

So, what IS this feeling … spring fever? Mid-life crisis? Or is it a real, concrete need for change?

Tell me, do you ever feel like this? What do you do to scratch an itch? Should I just leave good enough alone or jump headfirst into a life change?

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