Onion Paper and Ashes - theHumm March 2020

By Angie Arendt

We were standing next to our lockers waiting for the bell to ring before heading into Typing I for an hour of the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog, hoping that today would be the day we would hit the elusive 60-words-per-minute goal — a feat that would let us upgrade from the clunky manual starter typewriters to the coveted IBM Selectrics for the rest of the semester. I was out of onion paper and begging some off of Lisa when I saw a glob of dirt smeared on her forehead.

“You’ve got something on your face…” I whispered quietly, not wanting to embarrass her. How in the world she got out of the house without seeing that blob of black between her eyebrows was beyond me.

“What?” she said as she reached into her stash to retrieve a packet of paper for me. Lisa always had extra everything in her locker: #2 pencils, reams of loose leaf paper, correction tape and Liquid Paper, mittens, Jolly Ranchers, lip balm. Her predisposition for organization and preparedness saved my butt (and the butts of so many others) on many an occasion throughout our high school career.

“You’ve got something there. On your forehead.” I reached over to wipe it off for her because that’s what friends are for: to pull the toilet paper off your shoe, let you know when your fly is open or you’ve got lipstick on your teeth, to share school supplies and to wipe the crap off of your face when you’ve left the house without glancing in the mirror — which is clearly what had happened at Lisa’s house that morning. “Let me get it for you….”

That’s when I learned about Ash Wednesday. I knew all about Fat Tuesday. Well, that’s not quite true; I didn’t know about beads and boobs and Mardi Gras yet. But I did know that one Tuesday a year was set aside as an “all the pancakes you can eat” kind of day — one of my favourite days of the year.

I don’t remember what she actually said while we stood there in front of our lockers with onion paper in hand, but I do know that I discovered that morning that the dirt streaked across Lisa’s forehead was more than a “Catholic thing” (as my grandmother would later describe it, clucking her Protestant tongue in disapproval as she did so). It was a reminder that life is too precious and short to take for granted. That smudge between my friend’s eyebrows was a symbol of gratitude and grace, life and love, not just for her but me that day too — a symbol I needed more than I knew then and one that I need more than I care to admit now.

So thanks Lisa, wherever you are, for saving my butt with your onion paper and oh-so-much-more on that snowy, grey February morning all those years ago. I hope that when I’m out and about tomorrow, full-to-the-gills from all the pancakes and sausage I’ll be eating tonight, somebody will notice that I’ve got something smeared across my forehead and I can pay the gratitude and grace thing forward. I’ll be thinking of you…

The Magical Imagination of Mária Moldován - theHumm March 2020

By Sally Hansen

Art… and Soul

The mere mention of Transylvania anywhere in the Anglosphere immediately conjures up the occult adventures of Dracula. Having never met anyone from Transylvania before, your intrepid arts reporter was both mesmerized and intimidated by my utter lack of knowledge of the background of this month’s featured artist from Arnprior.

Mária Moldován’s astonishing art is as unfamiliar as her background — and just as fascinating. This accomplished and multi-talented artist weaves he......

Onion Paper and Ashes - theHumm March 2020