55 years of vacant father’s days
55 years of no father to celebrate a special day with
never even a chance to say good-bye at a funeral
as that unhealthy event was the thought of many in 1964
not thinking grief could find any door
the end result being numbness and an inability to process
so grief leaks out piecemeal
perhaps solace should be found in a new drill set
BBQ
bottle of single malt
or a lawnmower
Merry Christmas Dad
Robert K. Stephen
As a lawyer for many years in negligence cases there is a theory called the thin skulled theory. You take your victims as you find them. If you carelessly back your car in shopping centre parking lot and kill a pedestrian that might have not died had they not had such a thin skull that is no defence to your negligence.
Similarly if you watch a film and you are profoundly effected by it the filmmakers have scored a great success as opposed to those in the audience who view the film as light and interesting entertainment.
Eru is young boy of Mexican descent living in the United States. Eru has lost his mother at an early age. Eru is a soccer nut and after his soccer practice he visits his mother’s grave with his grandmother who he is living with. There is no emotion shown by Eru. Then the same day he is playing soccer with his friend and the ball is kicked over the graveyard fence. The caretaker expresses anger at his sneaking into the graveyard to retrieve the soccer ball. Eru covered in mud from the graveyard returns home to hear his grandmother has been having strange dreams about her deceased daughter. Eru falls asleep and has bizarre dreams about being visited by his mother. Using native medicine Eru’s grandmother tries to cleanse the house of spirits with negative influences. Eru learns that the graveyard caretaker was asked by his mother to acts as his guardian. Eru hears this and hugs the caretaker with tears running down his eyes to end the film. Nice story?
Dig a bit deeper. Eru is a child, like many, who has lost a parent at an early age. How can such a poor child process such a tragic death? That child simply lacks an understanding of the death of that child’s parent. That tragic event can be buried deep in the child’s mind and locked up in a state of numbness for many years if not forever. Through the visit of his mother in a dream Eru understands his mother is indeed gone and grieves with tears running down his eyes.
A particularly sad and touching movie for me. Why. I am just another Eru having lost my father at 9 years of age. Unlike Eru I never had the chance to grieve because the death of my father was an impossibility my mind could never wrap around. If you know of young children who have lost a parent “Lodo” may be invaluable for that child. Grieving upon the death of a parent may be therapeutic instead of eternal postponement.
This short recently played DWF (Dances With Wolves) Film Festival in Los Angeles. The film was directed and co-written by Alessandro Gentile.
While the acting is stiff the message for some will be profound.
RKS Film Rating 93/100.
Ontario produces some superb Cabernet Francs. One might say it is Ontario’s red wine strength. There is Cabernet Franc in this obnoxiously named wine perhaps better suited to the rodeo circuit in Florida. But there is also Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah none of which individually craft remarkable wines in Ontario. However in the blending game anything is possible as the sum may be far superior to its individual components. Wildass Red did not disappoint the last time tried. What about this time?
The wine has the beginning of a charming, warm and inviting red wine. Some vibrant red cherry swirls about in the glass raising hope for more enchantment. Lesser notes of blackberry and raspberry and a bit of smoke. So far so good but as for excellence at this point more depth on the nose could take this wine over the gold medal finish line. On the palate the feeble black cherry, kirsch and blackberry falls short of a gold medal game. The gentle tannins make this an easy drinking wine and it would suit simple grilled fare such as sausage on a bun or Portobello burgers. The Syrah, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon don’t create any magic. But I will say so much wine these days is essentially dead wine dulled by chemical baths. This is not a dead wine. It simply lacks class in its assemblage.
(Wildass Red 2018, VQA Niagara-on-the-Lake, Stratus Vineyards, Niagara-on-the-Lake, $21.95, Liquor Control Board of Ontario # 86363, 750 mL, 12.3%,RKS Wine Rating 88/100).
So how did I end up in Canada? It was before our beloved Berlin Wall fell that I was transferred by the Stasi to a post at the Canadian German Friendship League headquartered in Toronto. The goal was to ferret out and neutralize hostile elements to the East German Democratic Republic. I was based in Toronto and lived in a cockroach infested apartment on Victoria Park Avenue 5 minutes north of Danforth Avenue. Being German my cover was a sausage and sauerkraut vendor from a cart outside the Toronto Stock Exchange in the middle of a capitalist shitstorm in front of First Canadian Place. I soon became known by the hot shot capitalists and their toady lawyers and accountants as the Happy Kraut. I must have served up thousands of the tasty sausages. After coming home and washing the stench of grilled sausages off my body it was a series of nightly events at some dank hall consisting of lectures, propaganda films, East German cinema and beer nights. What a ratty bunch of Canadians. It soon became apparent it was the free beer and food that drew them in. I mean they were not even proletarian but lumpen proletarian unemployed, drug addicts and the like seeking to fill their bellies and not their minds with glorious East German Canadian friendship.
My mission was doomed to fail and I informed my superiors in East Berlin who seemed unable to focus on anything other than a crumbling East Germany and the threat of looming mobs of angry East Germans furious at the ruining of their lives by our mighty security force the Stasi. It was time for a new cover and it involved championing East German Riesling. Well one slight problem and that was there was no drinkable East German Riesling as we had to import it in huge tankers from the German community in Paraguay. It was rotgut but add some sugar and Austrian anti-freeze and it wasn’t that bad.
I enjoyed Plavac Mali which is the king of red wine in Croatia with much of the grape being grown on the Dalmatian Coast. The Dalmatian Dog is from the Babić grape also grown on the Dalmatian coast. It is known under more than 30 different names. We get so little Croatian wine due to terrified buyers and management of the Liquor Overcontrol Board of Ontario shovelling the same varietals year after year. Good luck on ever finding any sparkling Brazilian, wines from England, Romania, Bulgaria, Texas and so on. The easy money for a liquor monopoly is what sells well and it sells well as there is so little choice to consumers. There is big money in Chardonnay but no money in Encruzado. The Liquor Control Board of Ontario quite frankly is boring.
How does the Dalmatian dog fare? As for aromatics there is some sweet red cherry hardly ground-breaking but dig deeper there is some intriguing roast almonds and spice, cooked rhubarb and some milk chocolate. On the palate the tannins are moderate with back earth, cranberry, cactus pear, white pepper and a manageable and agreeable dusting of spice. The finish is short.
The LCBO Vintages Catalogue says the wine would pair well with sporki makaruli which features rich beef spiced with cinnamon and clove. I think I can agree with that. I have been in Croatia 4 times over the years and ate many a plate of greasy goulash. Perhaps it was not goulash but sporki makaruli?
Whatever messages this wine is sending you they are clean and vibrant. Yes this is what organic wine can convey.
(The Dalmatian Dog Babić 2018, Organic, Dalmatia, Testament Winery, Šibenik, Croatia, $19.95, Liquor Control Board of Ontario # 18810, 750 mL, 14%, RKS Wine Rating 85/100).
Tulum is a must if one is in Cancun. Booked a tour. Continental breakfast was provided for on board. The Mayan village stopped at was squalid in comparison to the ones near Chicen Itza. Beer and cakes were provided as a snack but given the overcast weather no one seemed to be in a party mood. In comparison to Chicen Itza the archaeological remains were minor but what an amazing backdrop of white sand and ocean. Lunch was at Xelha with excellent fish and the sweetest tomatoes I have ever had. On to Akumel which was a collection of hotels on a spectacular beach. Unfortunately a rain storm made swimming problematic.
I encountered a slight feeling of guilt watching what was perhaps a documentary I should not be watching. As a wee lad we had a cottage in Vermont which was just over an hour from our home in Montreal. Inevitably there would be some horrific car accident on the road to or from our cottage and there were crowds standing by the wrecks gawking at the blood and gore. Boy did my parents let those gawkers have it. Staring at pain and misery like some type of spectator sport was morally unacceptable. I had the same feeling watching “Lovely Jackson”. I felt like I was gawking at the misery of black American Rickey Jackson wrongfully convicted of the murder of a 58-year-old money order collector in Cleveland on May 19,1975. He was sent to Death Row but later as Ohio abolished capital punishment his sentence was changed to life imprisonment.
Jackson claims he was beaten senseless by members of the Cleveland police force and never read his rights. His conviction was based on the inconsistent and contradictory evidence of a 12-year-old Edward Vernon a paper boy who allegedly drove by the shooting incident is his bicycle. Vernon was harassed and threatened by the Cleveland police if not coerced into pointing the finger at Jackson. The testimony of another eyewitness was ignored and that witness said Jackson was not the killer.
I wondered what could be so “lovely” about this horrific miscarriage of justice? Nothing really but “Lovely” as you will see was a beginning to a new life that Jackson was robbed of.
39 years of false imprisonment (two and a half years of it on Death Row) would enrage just about anyone but I would say it was “lovely” that Jackson simply marched on day after day from a beginning in Death Row to the end of the nightmare by his conviction being overturned. He bore this frightful experience with grace, dignity and even forgiveness.
It was the Ohio Innocence Project that championed for Jackson forcefully pointing out the inconsistent testimony of Edward Vernon and the lack of attention paid to the eyewitness who stated Jackson was not the killer. Vernon recanted his testimony. Suddenly 39 years later Jackson is released without a job, money or place to live. In a world he has been deprived of for almost 4 decades. Despite Ohio having a wrongfully accused compensation fund it took three years of fighting by Jackson to get $2.6 million on compensation. As a lawyer cognizant of how damages are awarded in civil suits $2.6 million is a sick joke for 39 years of being unable to live a life he was entitled to. While Jackson may had been compensated for his loss of income while being in prison the $2.6 million should have been augmented by a sizeable amount of punitive damages.
For the time of incarceration, the documentary is filmed in black and white and upon obtaining freedom in colour.
Although you may be gawking in disbelief watching the documentary it is a story that must be told. You may feel anger and disgust as you should but Jackson has turned hell into a second chance at a life he should have had. The recreation of his life in prison was shot in the actual prison where he was incarcerated. A brutal mind-numbing place.
The parole process is unmasked here as slanted against those who insist their innocence. Like blind bloodhounds the parole board members hunger for admissions of guilt and repentance as browning points for freedom. Jackson refused to give them these hollow statements and was further penalized for his claims of innocence knowing well he could have played the game and been out of jail sooner.
The documentary had its world premiere on June 17th at the American Black Film Festival. After that I would expect it will make the festival circuit and eventually be shown on television and available on VOD.
You can see the trailer here https://vimeo.com/716874497/1fdd2d6413
RKS Film Rating 86/100.
My media trip to the Douro in 2014 was memorable. It was early November and a chill had descended upon the Douro which can be furnace like in the summer. 5 days starting at 9 and ending around 5 hopping around from winery to winery in a Mercedes van with a guide. But that was only the beginning of the day as there were 6-10 more wines to try with a dinner served with the finest silverware and crystal. Then cheese and dessert with Port afterwards. One evening it went on to 2 a.m. So if you think this type of trip is a piece of cake think again. After trying some 250 ports and wines over 5 days you start to shut down. But the memories give you stamina. Perhaps the best might have been at a Sandeman quinta in the Douro at noon having Sandeman Splashes (Port and Tonic with a twist of lime) on a terrace high above the Douro in a feeble November sun being interviewed by the Portuguese press. My 5 minutes of fame. I might have been on the 11 p.m. news?
On our last day and I was with a freelancer for the Globe & Mail we pulled into Real Companhia Velha in Vila Nova de Gaia (right across the river from Porto) and it was a massive enterprise unlike the provincial quintas we had visited. Industrial wine production. Massive cellars. Wines being shipped all over the world some already labelled for distribution in French supermarkets. Dinner was to follow at their restaurant with no more tastings and an exit at 9 p.m. as we had a 5 a.m. flight to Frankfurt so it was arranged we would be out from our dinner no later than 9 p.m. Well shiver my timbers the no tasting deal was shattered as we walked into the private dining room with 10 bottles awaiting tasting. What a struggle and dinner arrived at 9 p.m. I had to pack so managed to escape with our driver back to the hotel the Teatro at 10 p.m. Packed and was in bed by 11 and up at 3 a.m. for the flight to Frankfurt. Thank God I learnt how to spit out wine. Not exactly easy to do initially but with practice easy peasy.
The Liquor Control Board of Ontario is one of the biggest purchasers of wine in the world so wine writers from Ontario are treated with respect if not veneration.
So when I see this wine in front of me from Real Companhia Velha I suddenly feel exhausted with a bit of post traumatic wine tasting disorder. I do remember learning that France was their biggest customer for Port as they used it many pastries!
We are trying a Porca de Murça Reserva 2017 Tinto which is 40% Touriga Nacional, 20% Tinta Roriz and 40% field blend. A field blend is a throwback from earlier days where a mixture of different grapes were planted in a field and not separated by varietal so who knows what you are getting! And on occasion you can score a huge winner not exactly knowing what grape is involved! Agony for a varietal obsessed person.
On the nose this is a mature wine that has lost the rashness of youth and is sliding into old age. Does it need some mobility assistance and is it restricted to throwing a medicine ball? Deep notes of black cherry, mocha, raspberry, lavender and yes rhubarb and raisin pie. The Portuguese looked at me with puzzled eyes when I said I noted rhubarb and raisin pie in some of the Douro red wines. Rhubarb was not in their vocabulary. And raisin pie? This was a truly a Quebec pie that has long disappeared but its taste and smell has never left my olfactory senses. My goodness 2014 memories are gushing!
On the palate dark chocolate, cherry nectar and Ontario butter tart. Short finish. This is a dense wine but is becoming befuddled and rapidly heading into decline. If you want to experience a mature wine this is for you. I am not sure why but I tried a Babu Reserva 2018 from the Tejo and a Lua Cheia 2019 Old Vines Red from the Douro recently and the Babu was long gone and the Lua Cheia very long on the tooth. This ageism is rare in Portuguese wines but thrice in the last couple of weeks? What is happening?
I think this wine would suit a Bachalau dish (dried cod casserole). Yes you express disbelief with a red wine matching a cod dish. Trust me as a former nonbeliever experience has taught me this is a great match as well as with a cod curry!
(Porca de Murça Reserva Tinto 2017, DOC Douro, Real Companhia Velha, Vila Nova de Gaia, Portugal, $17.95, Liquor Control Board of Ontario # 684753. 750 mL, 14.5%, RKS Wine Rating 87/100).
After working as a golf Marshall I finally accepted a chunk of reality after playing 45 games. I am stuck in a range of 80-95 for 18 holes. In and out. Up and down. I am prisoner of a range and after 50 years of golf the time has come to accept that reality. The first game of the season could be the best and after 44 games the last game could be the worst. Accept that reality and the incessant desire to improve may fade and instead of a tirade of self criticism as your game is not improving you might find yourself enjoying the golf moment you are in and enjoying and laughing at the bad shots. In fact take it a step further you are on the golf course so is there really a bad shot! With age and experience comes wisdom if you embrace acceptance?
Off to Isla Mujeres (Island of Women) just off Cancun. It has some incredible beaches and there is the Cave of The Sleeping Sharks made famous by Jacques Cousteau. $30 USD on the “Festival Cancun”. Beautiful turquoise water! Buffet continental breakfast was served. Lots of juices and pastry. Mostly young American couples in their twenties. There was even a live band which added to the festivities although they were not particularly good. After breakfast it was open bar and the gringos were guzzling down tequila like it was a frat party. Actually most looked like they were frat boys and girls. In 90 minutes we were at El Garrafon beach which is a national park with coral reefs and tropical fish that swim around your feet. It was a beautiful snorkeling adventure of course keeping your eyes open for any sharks that were not sleeping in the caves. We had an hour at the beach which was probably wise due to the intense heat and blazing sun. Lunch was delicious in buffet format with chicken, ribs, guacamole, tostados and lots of fresh fruit. We cruised into town and wandered around with lots of shops in a quaint town that has been around for awhile. Small and narrow streets. So different than the Hotel Zone in Cancun.
Then on the cruise back to Cancun the young Americans hit the tequila real hard loving the tequila drinking contest which consisted of drinking a tequila from a baby bottle. What a banal and idiotic event or can we indulge the frivolity of gringo youth? By the time we were back in Cancun a couple of gringos had passed out most likely experienced in so doing by the many frat parties they had attended. Then taking a page from the Time Share hustle a tip jar was passed around and each “donation” received applause from the staff. Milk those gringos! Feed on gringo guilt.
A couple of days later we returned with a boat that looked as if it was ready to capsize. You know like those disasters you hear about in the Philippines or India. I noticed this was no gringo express but full of locals. Received stares by surprised locals seeing a rich gringo amongst the commoners. Like being stared at by gypsies in Romania like I was a spaceman. While I am not worried as I am a good swimmer but if this rickety tub sinks I am sure the sharks will wake up and make me their dinner.
A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity