The wise men

It was a great night at Pages on Kensington. A warm and friendly crowd. Many thanks to Simone Lee for letting me be part of the event, along with the wickedly funny Zsuzsi Gartner and the kinda bluesy, kinds folksy, kinda hickey, fabulous hickey’s.

Leaving Calgary the snow began again and we were delayed as the plane was deiced. To keep us safe, first, they sprayed the big bird with a high-powered stream of liquid that looked like blood in bathwater and then a second shower that looked like slimy green pond water.

I was seated next to a man who was speed-reading Classic Wisdom for the Good Life. It took him about twenty minutes. Then he took out EnRoute magazine and took strips to it, literally, tearing up various pages, including the first prize CBC Literary Award winner for Creative Nonfiction — a sad and touching story by Gina Leola Woolsey, titled My Best Friend.

Second time through Classic Wisdom, he placed the bookmark-sized strips between various pages and drew stars next to quotes. Including this one, which conjures a rather disturbing image: Do not bite at the bait of pleasure till you know there is no hook beneath it. When he finished I asked him if he was feeling wise. He explained that he was coming to Vancouver for his daughter’s 21^st birthday party. It was expected that he would give a toast at the party and he was reading the book because he wanted to pass on some words of wisdom. Instantly, I forgave him his noisy trespasses.

Within two hours of arriving in Vancouver I’m invited, twice, to a service tomorrow. I’m not sure what’s happened to Jesus these days, but does he not look like the son of George Clooney and Justin Timberlake?