Come on down to the Waldorf on Thursday evening and hear some amazing writers who are published in a new anthology V6A: Writing from Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside by editors Elee Kraljii Gardiner and John Mikhail Asfour. Partial proceeds of this book go to the Thursdays Collective–a writing group that meets at Carnegie Centre in the Downtown Eastside. I’ll be reading from my contribution to the book and I’m honoured to be a part of this anthology.

Thursday, April 12, 2012
The Waldorf Hotel
1489 East Hastings
Vancouver, BC  V5L 1S4Event runs from 7-9 pm
Admission is Free.

4-5pm at Word Talks, Alma Van Dusen room: I’m honoured and excited to be a part of a panel called, “You Gotta Know Where you Come From, to Know Where You’re Going” with Charlie Demers, Timothy Taylor, and Meredith Quartermain. This event is hosted by CBC radio’s Grant Lawrence. Come hear us talk about our Vancouver-love.

Word on the Street Vancouver

Loved the day at Historic Joy Kogawa House, thank you to Ann-Marie Metten and the lovely volunteers who make this magic happen for us.

Here is my story for my mom, who was in attendance:

“Not Auntie Carol”

When I was five years old I thought Auntie Carol was the best pseudo mom. Auntie Carol and Uncle Harrry took me to the Organ Grinder, a fancypants restaurant downtown that had music, puzzles and candy canes for the kids not even over Christmas, and of course, a man dressed in vaudeville stripes and bowtie playing a huge organ grinder. Auntie Carol took me to Ice Capades, Bedknobs and Broomsticks and even put me in a big Bedknobs and Broomsticks beds, and twisted the bedknob, told me to close my eyes and dream of flying to different lands. In Auntie Carol’s basement there were all the Nancy Drew books ever written, and she let me read them every weekend I slept over, and even take a few home. Auntie Carol gave me the Disneyland poster I had right down beside my bed. Every night I would pick somewhere different to go, trace my finger over Animal Kingdom, Frontierland, Bear Country. But Tomorrowland was the best. I could see the dips and exhilarating turns of Space Mountain, that big eyeball following my every move as I went under a microscope, and the kids, dreaming of being one of the kids who performed in futuristic costumes on the Tomorrowland stage. Auntie Carol promised we would go. And then I was 6 going on 7 and then I was 7 going on 8 and she still promised. But Auntie Carol drank. Not a lot, not like Uncle Harry. But certainly not like my parents, or mum. Which was never.

Continue reading ‘Happy Mum’s’