is a nerdy, Purdy rap
to honour Al
icon, a venerable Pal
knew about people
to this mans poetry
wrote for all the Annettes
beyond beggars banquets
the rails coast to coast
to him we give a toast
an A-frame home he did dwell
none could quell
his thoughts, a profound reservoir
knowledge beyond a sacred abattoir
lived long and hard and true
the poetic way for me and you
favourite thing about this man
value of humour, thats why
and my mentor Irving, they were friends
spewing forth, intellect none could pretend
influence a Canada
home that had a
mystery of an empirical
dear, Al, I salute you
words and rhythm and grace
carved an endearing place
a swath of books, thoughts we embrace
we remember what you did for
emboldening hearts of pure
snapping fingers to a steady, beatnik beat)
What do you see when you look at me,
Your mother, gran'ma, sister, or auntie?
Well, that may be, but if that's all you see,
Let's talk a little philosophy.
CHORUS: The wrinkles are art,
I've got a big heart
I'm a crone, not prone to Being invisible.
What do you see when you look at me
part of an Invisible Minorit/y?
a statistic, simplistic, non-entity?
Or, someone living with dignity?
I've got a voice, opinions, and that is power
The older I get, the less I cower.
speaking my mind is true liberation, I find
And I am welcoming the crone
CHORUS: The wattle is art,
I've got a big heart,
I'm a crone, not prone To being invisible.
I've got 3 chin hairs
And it's hard climbing stairs
But I'm here, you hear,
So, look at my personality.
Or do you think age is a liability?
CHORUS: The crow's feet are art,
It's parcel and part, of a crone, not prone
To being invisible.
If I look invisible to you,
You must be blind,
Cause you can't see,
A person trying to live with mutual respectability.
Aging is a gift, a privilege that uplift
And I am welcoming the crone.
Scat singing to rhythmic beat and then segueing into a hauntingly,
beautiful and melodic song
poem by Honey Novick
in "This Little Light of Mine" by McMaster Centre
for Gerontolical Studies
Bella, means beautiful in the romance
and that she was.
Bella was my mothers best friend,
she became my aunt, my friend.
She was spirited and magnanimously generous.
Widowed at a young age, she raised a daughter
while coping with a broken heart.
In time the daughter would develop severe
physical and mental problems.
They didnt see each other very much.
I remained consistently near except when Bella disappeared.
We doggedly looked but couldnt often find her.
time Bella settled into a wonderful home for the aged.
I visited often. Slowly, my beloved Bella was
changing. She would steal and wander and forget.
Totally unaware, she would go for walks, fall and break
One time she made international headline news
When a St. Bernard dog attacked her. I took her
to court and fielded media questions. I tried to be
there for her. I tried being a friend,
chauffeur, animator, and social convener.
day after returning home from visiting Bella,
I noticed I was very tired. After a few days I would
Then after another visit, I would become sad and tired.
I began to realize it was the visits that were depressing
I didnt know this Bella anymore.
She looked familiar but the exotic, enticing woman
was gone. After a few years of my inner turmoil, I made
I couldnt go anymore. The cost was too high.
She was well cared for. She didnt know me.
She was in a different world where I wasnt privy.
my heart, I was still there for her.
In spirit I would, could never forget her.
But I couldnt go to see her. I felt such guilt,
I tried to speak of this but couldnt. I would
carry this alone.
If we are all interconnected, and I believe we are,
Bella and I are not
separate. What is a visit anyhow?
is my tribute to a wonderful person who
shouldered her own burdens.
She laughed, sang, traveled, marveled,
never failed to stop and acknowledge
a child. Then this world started to slip from her
until only her body remained.
I wrestled with the question,
Where does my obligation start and stop?
In time I had to weigh my cost against a self-imposed
Some will judge me. Thats o.k. I can live with
I could never sleep knowing that an opportunity came
to honour a wonderful person and I didnt respond
to that chance.
These words are my homage to Bella in
all her forms, smells, sounds, swirls, noise and grace.
A Song by Honey Novick
In the York University's Canadian Women Studies- Doris
was the kind of day so out of focus
you didnt know if outside was
hot, blue, grey or yellow.
was different. A community and building
OWN, the Older Womens Network,
to the dignity of women older
buzzing with an exciting warmth.
inside OWN, sitting serenely was the
protagonist leading the story that made
of Canada look at women. Period.
was placed next to Doris Anderson. At that time, although
walked with a cane, her mind was clear and her spirit
as the vee point of a chevron.
were strangers. She, famous. I, a reader
seasoned grace allowed her to be approachable and welcoming.
didnt know what to say but felt as if I should
say something to her
so I blubbered out, Id like to sing for
you at Christmas.
she was embarrassed,
she thought I was nuts but harmless.
didnt sing to her at Christmas, but I did sing
in beauty, peace be with you.
your path always be clear.
your strength ignite the crackling fire
makes the spirit of hope endurable.
have been honoured by your life.
your brilliance shine and be shared
those willing to receive these gifts.
Peace be with you
we meet again in the light
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