Your Occasional Monty

Deborah Clague January 2, 2023

Thirteen-years-old (91 in dog years) and still looking like a champ.

Wee Monty, January 2023 (©Deborah Clague)

All dressed up and ready to go for a walk, my Monty (©Deborah Clague)

Monty and some of his (many) assorted toys (©Deborah Clague)

To The Max

Deborah Clague November 17, 2022

The purpose of my recent visit to Los Angeles was to attend the Adobe Max conference. Billed as “the creativity conference”, the event was filled with inspiration, applied learning in the latest technology, discovery of trends and thought-provoking ideas when it comes to building a career or business in the industry. As a designer, the content was invaluable and highly needed after a long absence from connecting with my peers because of covid. I can’t wait to take things to the next level.

Adobe Max Conference 2022 — Attending the Adobe Max conference at Los Angeles Convention Centre (©2022, Deborah Clague).

DJ Steve Aoki performs at the Adobe Max party (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Adobe Max party held at LA Live (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Adobe Max party at LA Live. Guests were encouraged to participate in interactive art exhibits, such as this sequin reveal wall art (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Puppy de-stress zone, Adobe Max Vendor Hall (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Until next time, Adobe Max Conference 2022 (©Deborah Clague).

California Dreaming

Deborah Clague October 27, 2022

I recently had one day in Los Angeles to act as tourist and make the most of a visit before the working portion of my excursion took over. So what does one do with twenty-four hours in the city of angels? Well, to be honest, it was probably closer to thirteen hours, as I like to be in bed by nine like the grandma I am meant to be. But in the moments I was active, I was getting my steps in (and bleeding my wallet for Uber).

9:30am: First stop was The Original L.A. Farmer’s Market and The Grove shopping area. Purpose was to source local goods that I can’t find back home in Canada like regional spices, teas and chocolate. I may have failed to check the opening schedule for the market and got there a bit early, so I used the wait time to walk up to West Hollywood (which also got my Target fix in). The Original L.A. Farmer’s Market does have a good variety of vendors and unique items. I also managed to pick up some varied flavours of Nonna’s Empanadas for lunch and dinner. I had honestly never tried this Latin American delicacy before, which is a damn shame because they are delicious.

Nonna’s Empanadas, Los Angeles (©2022, Deborah Clague).

1:30pm: after dropping off my purchases at the hotel, I made my way to The Broad, a contemporary art gallery in downtown Los Angeles a few blocks from my hotel. Tickets are free but must be booked in advance. The highlight of this visit was entering Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Mirror Room—The Souls of Millions of Lights Away. I also got to see the work of contemporary artist Jeff Koons, whom I got to hear stories from later in the week.

Yayoi Kusama’s *Infinity Mirror Room—The Souls of Millions of Lights Away,* The Broad, Los Angeles (©2022, Deborah Clague).

*Balloon Dog, Blue,* Jeff Koons, The Broad, Los Angeles (©2022, Deborah Clague).

*Michael Jackson and Bubbles,* Jeff Koons, The Broad, Los Angeles (©2022, Deborah Clague).

*Tulips,* Jeff Koons, The Broad, Los Angeles (©2022, Deborah Clague).

*Under the Table,* Robert Therrian, The Broad, Los Angeles (©2022, Deborah Clague)

4:30pm: I would be remiss if I didn’t take the opportunity to visit the beach while in California. And so this is where my hectic twenty-four hour adventure ended—at the end-point of America’s famous Route 66, Santa Monica Pier, as the sun set along the horizon of the ocean Pacific.

Palm trees, Santa Monica, California (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Santa Monica Pier, California (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Pacific sunset at 10,000ft (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Deborah Clague October 16, 2022

Book Recommendations

Deborah Clague October 13, 2022

Me
Written by Elton John

There’s something really comforting for me about the music of Elton John and his musical partner Bernie Taupin, and I became a bit obsessed, again, with their craft during the later stages of this (ongoing) pandemic finally picking up his autobiography to truly learn about the man, the myth, the legend. It didn’t disappoint. In fact, I love him even more for raising my spirits and giving me a laugh during a truly difficult time. The memoir details every aspect of his life, written with raw honesty and a stroke of vulnerability; his talent, fame and level of influence is definitely something to be awestruck by, but it is countered with difficult stories of having parents that weren’t supportive (willfully so). We can’t choose everything that shapes our life, but we can choose a different outlook.

Favourite line: “As everyone knows, fame, especially sudden fame, is a hollow, shallow and dangerous thing, its dark, seductive powers no substitute for true love or real friendship. On the other hand, if you’re a terrible shy person, desperately in need of a confidence boost—someone who spent a lot of their childhood trying to be as invisible as possible so you didn’t provoke one of your mum’s moods or your dad’s rage—I can tell you for a fact that being hailed as the future of rock and roll in the LA Times and feted by a succession of your musical heroes will definitely do the trick.”

George Michael: A Life
Written by James Gavin

George Michael is one of my all-time favourite performers. Literally, not a day goes by in which I’m not humming ‘Careless Whisper’. His voice was beautiful, his musical output timeless. I was saddened when we lost him in 2016 (and appalled when obituaries referred him in headline as the “ex-Wham singer” as he was so much more). This (very) big book reflects on all aspects of his life and the aftermath of his passing including how he met former Wham musical partner Andrew Ridgeley, his solo debut with Grammy-winning album Faith (also what went into one of the most iconic visual aesthetics for a pop star of all time), his feud and subsequent lawsuits against Sony, and, of course, that incident in a Beverly Hills public washroom. The making of the Freedom 90 video is also noted for posterity. Highly recommended.

Favourite line: “I find that most modern pop music is such a narcissistic wankfest of people doing it mainly for money and fame,” he said. “It’s so dumbed-down, just four chords on a loop going around. Chuck it out there and if it doesn’t work, that’s fine; they’ve got twenty other lined up. George’s intention was to craft masterpieces, and for people to hold them in their hearts. He kept rewriting and rewriting, pushing—’That’s not good enough. I’m gonna do it again’”. Even though Michael was just twenty-two when he wrote it, “Last Christmas” bore out Douglas’s view. In December 2018, thirty-three years after its release, that naive confession of holiday loss hit the American Top 40 for the first time.”

Several Short Sentences About Writing
Written by Verlyn Klinkenborg

I love reading books on how to improve one’s verse and connect through the written word. While I’ve heard great things about this one, it wasn’t for me. Not engaging, just pretentious.

Tokyo Vice: An American Reporter on the Police Beat in Japan
Written by Jake Adelstein

Certainly an interesting angle for a book: real stories about the Yakuza as told by a reporter who worked in Japan and covered their crimes … but as I made my way through the chapters, I found myself disassociating and only begrudgingly finishing it. The author just doesn’t present himself well. I feel a large swath of Tokyo Vice was about building his own legend rather than sharing anything interesting or new about the Japanese underworld. Apparently this was made into a tv series. I may begrudgingly play an episode while I’m vacuuming one day.

Red fox, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Shades of Gold

Deborah Clague September 30, 2022

There are few things more relaxing and spiritually rewarding than a lazy Autumn drive through a landscape altering its palette from green to shades of gold. At the coordinates of 53.2033° N, 105.7531° W—in the boreal transition region known as where pine meets prairie—we spent our day immersed in an environment rich with colour and the scent of Fall. Whereas Spring and Summer are more floral, I personally love the musky sweet smell of a pile of leaves and what it signals. In the air today, it was potent.

We even had a wildlife encounter in almost the same location I saw two black bears five months ago. A red fox that was laser-focused on the delicacies of the roadside. I’d never seen one so close before. We could have pet it with how close it ventured to my vehicle (but, of course, did not).

Here’s hoping he was able to feast, as we all hope to heading into winter.

Highway 263, the scenic route, through Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

The vista from Height of Land Lookout Tower, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Height of Land Lookout Tower, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Sandy Lake, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

The golden hues of fall foliage at Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

A squirrel feasts in preparation for winter, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Fall foliage at Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Waskesiu River, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Red fox at roadside, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Selfie at Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Grasslands

Deborah Clague September 3, 2022

It was getting late. I placed the book I was reading on the nightstand and looked over at my partner who was fast asleep after a long day. I wasn’t ready for slumber just yet though … the night was calling.

And I was staying in a place famous for it.

Grasslands National Park in southwest Saskatchewan is the darkest dark sky preserve in Canada. After hours, as the gradient sunset fades to black, the sky becomes a glittering tapestry of stars and visible planets, the scale of which merits nothing short of awe. It is perhaps the best place in the country to humble one’s self and get a sense of the grand scope of our shared universe.

As part of a late summer road trip, we made our way to the village of Val Marie (population 126)—the gateway to Grasslands—and stayed overnight in a converted church named The Sanctuary Inn. As soon as I stepped inside, I was taken aback by how quiet everything was. There was no ambient noise from vehicular traffic. No TV for distraction. Just the sound of our own conversation and birds chirping outside. After a summer shaped by loss and hardship, it was the peace we needed.

Our first full day at Grasslands, we did the self-paced ecotour scenic drive and back country loop. At 140 kilometres long, I didn’t expect it to take as long as it did but in total our prairie safari lasted over seven hours. The adventure was exclusively on gravel roads (some more maintained than others). Beyond epic prairie landscapes, we also observed coyote, vast colonies of prairie dog, and several herds of bison roaming free … and even spotted a lone bison, whom the visitor centre staff informed me was “kicked out of the herd” during this rutting season for not being strong enough. I was assured, however, that his time-out would be over in a few weeks when he could return.

On the back country roads were a few isolated homes and ranches and I wondered what the occupant’s lives must be like with no immediate neighbours and any type of services literally hours away. A life in isolation can occasionally be appealing to me, especially after this pandemic, but the reality of it would be far different than my idealization. We do need others. Even if reluctantly.

I tiptoed to the entrance in an attempt to not wake him. After turning off the inside and outside light, I opened the door and was met with complete, enveloping darkness. It was the blackest night I have ever experienced. It was another world.

Borderlands Lookout, Grasslands National Park (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Sanctuary Inn, Val Marie, Saskatchewan (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Val Marie, Saskatchewan (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The dark brown spot, just left of center, is a lone bison (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Like the surface of the moon, the prairie dog village at Grasslands National Park resembles a lunar landscape (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Remnants of a homestead, Grasslands National Park (©2022, Deborah Clague).

A herd of wild bison, Grasslands National Park (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Roadblock ahead, Grasslands National Park (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Back Country Loop, Grasslands National Park (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Rosefield Grid Road, Grasslands National Park (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Abandoned church off Highway 4, Saskatchewan (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Deborah Clague July 31, 2022

I was 33 when I received the news.

I still remember my father’s sullen face as he informed me he had less than a year to live. I never pictured my dad as anything but strong. He was always the protector. A former athlete, he was my definition of vigour and brawn. So to see him in that state was unsettling and spoke of just how dire the situation truly was.

A few months later when I turned 34, he was gone.

Since that day, I’ve kept him close both figuratively and literally. In my home, on a bookshelf, sat an inconspicuous gold metal box containing his remains. It didn’t resemble a traditional urn. Rather, it was contemporary and not unlike decor available for sale at Home Sense. Guests would never guess it’s true purpose. I felt a sense of comfort having it. An inanimate presence that I would occasionally hold one-sided conversation with. Over time, I built a makeshift shrine with trinkets collected from my travels. Places he would have liked to visit. Achievements he would want to be part of. It was my way of keeping him involved.

Playing on my mind has always been the thought of “letting go” but I was never sure if I would be strong enough. Grief may follow predictable patterns but everyone’s experience and timeline is unique. Eight years on, mine is still there. The sorrow quieter but ambient; I anticipate it will never fully wane.

I always wanted to honour my father in a very specific way. The pandemic influenced me to finally plan for it. As much as we all wanted to break out of our homes after consecutive lockdowns, I envisaged my father’s spirit the same way. A box—even a gold box—was not worthy for his eternal rest. I originally toyed with the idea of taking him to a place he always wanted to visit but had never been (just to say he made it there) but later determined that he needed to be closer. To have eternal rest in a familiar locale that brought him peace in life. A place where those survived could form new memories while thinking of him.

Only his favourite place in the world would do. The crown jewel of Canada: Banff National Park.

My father loved the Rockies. He visited so often, every road, every trail, was embedded in his mind. From valley to peak, the unspoilt wilderness—and wildlife which he always revered and respected—were affirming for him. Thus, in perfect orchestration with loved ones present and a bighorn sheep that curiously observed the ceremony from afar, my father was returned to the wild he loved so much. Goodbye for now, but not forever.

We are all eternally bound by the earth, sea and air.

Lake Minnewanka, Banff National Park, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague)

A Fabled Tea House in the Sky

Deborah Clague July 14, 2022

I was 13.

It was July and my family was on our annual summer vacation that year in Banff National Park, Alberta. We strolled the shore of world-renowned Lake Louise; no matter how many times I’d seen it—and at that age, I’d already seen it a lot, as the Rockies were my father’s favourite travel destination—I always marvelled at how pristine the snow-capped peaks and aqua-green water were. In colour and scale, it was such a contrast from my home on the prairies. After some admiration, my father wanted to take my childhood dog, a loyal border collie named Pepper, for a longer walk while my mother and I window-shopped the boutiques in the hotel. We verbally agreed to meet in an hour or so.

The “or so” turned out to be half a day later. My father and Pepper went on a very long walk to a mountain-top tea house.

I always remembered his stories of this hike. His wonder at the vistas and of hearing an avalanche rumble in the distance. Also, the exertion required by him (and my dog) to complete the loop. I was never much into hiking in my youth but as an adult, immersion in the forest is a favoured pastime. So this year, a special year, I was determined to retrace his steps and also climb to that fabled tea house in the sky.

The aqua water of Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada (©2022, Deborah Clague).

We took a right (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Mirror Lake, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Beehive, near Lake Louise, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

In the pines, Lake Agnes hike near Lake Louise, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Lake Agnes Tea House (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The crystal clear water at Lake Agnes, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Bridal Veil Falls, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Badlands

Deborah Clague July 10, 2022

I must have been around three.

Or perhaps four.

At any rate, it was an age when memories start to stick and experiences shape the person you will eventually become. I was in my maternal grandparent’s basement. My mom was deep in conversation au Francais with my grandmother and I tried to distract myself by exploring the space as I waited for them to finish. There wasn’t much; an older, multi-unit dwelling, its basement was unfinished for the most part save a washer/dryer and a cracked concrete floor that I remember being cold on my feet. The lack of decor in the basement was actually in stark contrast to the rest of their technicolour home where I distinctly remember a forest green living room, Peptol-Bismol pink bathroom, and baby blue bedroom. Everything was completely colour-coordinated to precision with matching carpet, furniture and accessories.

But there was one thing I found in the basement that caught my attention: a miniature toy dinosaur.

I was riveted. At the time, no one had told me what a dinosaur was. I don’t even think I’d ever seen a picture of one. I took the small toy with me, constructing adventures in my head on the bus ride home about what it was and where it came from. I probably didn’t stop talking about it as my parent’s eventually got me more toys and some books about cretaceous creatures—I even remember my first one purchased at Woolco, which I’ve kept all these years. I’ve been fascinated ever since.

As he always did, my father cultivated my interests by introducing me to one of the best places to learn about dinosaurs in the world: Drumheller, Alberta, home of the badlands and world-renowned Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, which I visited this week … taking me back to those childhood days full of wonder and curiosity.