On Hope and Optimism - theHumm February 2022

By John Pigeau

Back in January, my boss — theHumm’s delightful and talented editor/publisher, Kris Riendeau — asked me if I would like to contribute a few sentences about what I was hopeful for in 2022. I would be happy to, I wrote her. But then I sat down to write something, and I was overcome by a foggy sort of sadness. I sat in front of my laptop for quite some time, thinking quietly.

Eventually, I was able to write something: A swift end to this dreadful pandemic was, and is, my greatest hope.

I sat back and sighed. Yep. That was about it. And truthfully, it was hard to think of anything else to be hopeful about. Then I remembered something Kris had mentioned in her email — that she was hopeful for the return of live performing arts, which would allow, among other things, Humm Team Productions to stage their Sketchy Santa show which was to have opened in early December but sadly had to be cancelled due to the pandemic. Kris’s was a hopeful thought, indeed, it struck me. The videos for that adult-themed show — featuring a song by the ghost of Elvis and ridiculous belly dancing elves — promised a brilliant and hilarious production, and some much-needed levity. We could all use a whole lot of that, I think.

And actors want to act. Singers want to sing. Fiddlers want to fiddle. And so on.

I am fortunate to know a lot of talented artists. Musicians, novelists, poets, painters, etc., etc. And I know how much they’ve suffered since March 2020 — financially, yes, but artistically and even spiritually as well, the spiritual bit being, for some, that buzz of being able to perform for an audience, or to see your art on a wall at an exhibit, to show up all-smiles-and-gratitude for a book launch and signing. Every artist creates because they feel the need, because they’re driven by their essence, because they need to tell a story, to create something beautiful from nothing with their minds and imaginations, hands and voices. And most of it from fairy dust.

This I know well. I’ve written a novel, after all, and I’ve been working diligently on a memoir for about seven years now. It means a great deal to me, telling this story, a snapshot of a very difficult time in my life. During a pandemic, often a sorrowful time of grief and isolation, the book (which deals with both of those subjects) seemed to take on more importance. That is to say, I realized more and more how much we are all touched at one time or another by grief and sorrow.

And so, I wrote, it was also my hope to finish the book this year. Since 2015, I have — with tremendous gratitude — received several grants from the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council to help me with research and book-related expenses, so I feel a deep obligation to get the book “right.” And I feel like it might make some small and good difference in the world, as some memoirs do — in offering readers solace through shared experience.

That’s one thing I hope for, at any rate.

I’m kind of skipping over the important part of a publisher accepting it for publication, in saying that… but, you know, one step at a time, as they say.

Back when we could get together with friends, I would get a bit silly sometimes and say, “I think that key parties will be popular again soon.” And that would get a few laughs. It was thought based on a bit of truth, actually — that we have all missed the intimacy of human contact and connection so very much these last 600-plus days and counting. One day when this is all behind us we’re all certainly going to want and need a whole lot of prolonged hugs, I should think. Might see another baby boom, even. Who knows?

But I’m hopeful we’ll all be thankful for the gift of human touch again, and perhaps be a bit more mindful of its importance in our lives too.

Bring on the tickertape parades for all doctors and nurses and frontline and healthcare workers too! Imagine that? I actually can. Some version of it, anyhow, like you see in old photos taken after both world wars, with festive, grateful people cheering and kissing and hugging and throwing confetti in the air.

More things connect us than divide us, I believe.

A recent example: “Happy Friday!” a very cheerful cashier at Shoppers Drug Mart recently said to me. I wished her the same. Later, in the car, I told my dad about it. “If that charming lady had a tip jar,” I told him, “I’d have left her five bucks.” “Good idea,” Dad agreed.

I’m optimistic that soon, in moving forward, we’ll all be mindful of the good, vital work people have done during these hard days, and that everyone is paid a better wage for their labours.

There are other things of profound importance to be hopeful about — I’m quite sure we can all think of many — but there are some “silly” and “simple” things too. Life’s been a bit too heavy for some time now, so maybe it’s good to think about those things as well.

What silly joys have we missed?

I’m not much of a dancer, but I miss “silly” dancing in my living room with my friends on a festive Friday Music Night. I do a decent Ed Grimley impersonation, which usually gets sillier if a song I don’t really like shuffles on — say, the Proclaimers’ I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles), or Skynrd’s Sweet Home Alabama. That one actually gets me dancing like Forest Gump. Truly, silly fun.

I miss those nights. Hopefully, there’ll be more on the horizon. And soon.

Which reminds me of something E.B. White, the author of Charlotte’s Web and Stuart Little, once wrote: “Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.”

Something else to be optimistic about? Spring equinox — and more delicious daylight. Well, that’s coming, and it’s not too far off. March 20 is the day. Hopefully we’ll be able to safely gather with friends by then, all a little wiser, and so much more grateful.

More things connect us than divide us.

Chris Cavan —Rooted to the Sky - theHumm February 2022

By Sally Hansen

Art… and Soul

Almonte artist Chris Cavan’s exuberant watercolour paintings are a testament to the essential role that trees play in her creativity and overall wellbeing. Trees have sustained and inspired her since she was a young girl, and dominate her art, her poetry and her writings. On the advice of Almonte “Energizer Bunny” and fellow artist Neil Carleton, Chris compiled an extensive binder of her art, photographs and original writings to accompany her recent art exhibit at the Corrid......

On Hope and Optimism - theHumm February 2022